Find Another Machine

I recently joined a gym and over the last few weeks have been making full use of my membership. I have started working out three times a week and can already see the result. My back doesn’t hurt as much, my arms are stronger, I can run longer then I use to be able. My knowledge of lifting is limited to what we covered in high school gym class but I have been hitting the free weights for some sweet bicep curls.

I usually go to the gym during the day on week days when most people are at work. This leaves the gym pretty much empty except for college kids and the other people that don’t hold regular nine to five jobs. I usually zone out with my ipod while I work out and ignore everyone else around me, until today.

I was walking over to the weights when I over heard a rather large man talking to himself while he lifted weights. I’m all for self motivation, I myself have even utter a few grunts while lifting, but this man had gone a bit further. He was staring intently on the machine and kept saying “I’m going to kick your ass, I’m going to kick your ass, I’m going to kick your ass!” No one else was around to hear his crazy motivation speech except for me. I didn’t really want to stick around incase he was talking to an imaginary friend or actually to the machine so I decided to stick to the other side of the gym for the rest of my work out and not have my asses kicked.

A Surreal Week

It started with an odd e-mail on Thursday… “Grandma is really sick and took a turn for the worse last night…” She had been on sublingual morphine since then and unresponsive. For the last few days every time my phone rang I jumped. Paul and I spent a lot more time together worrying and wishing we were in Minnesota. I was surprised she lasted thru Thursday at all.

The call finally came today while I was at work. My sister called, she always is the one left to tell me bad news, to say that Grandma died today in the morning. Grandpa was with her but she had already left days before.

I left work and came home to my empty house. Steve was at work, Paul had a gig, and Beth had a class. I sat alone and cried because I was sad that I no longer had a grandma but happy that she was finally allowed to go to heaven. I went for a run and in the evening Paul and Beth, my only family for miles, came over and drank and ate and spoke of happy memories of the woman who was the matriarch of the family for so many years.

It’s hard to be sad for yourself but happy for someone else. I know Grandma wanted to move on, but it’s hard to be left behind.

Urban Jungle

Last weekend was beautiful and I decided to take full advantage of having a back yard and did some yard work. I just had gotten a composting bin and wanted to set it up in our backyard and was looking for a place to put it. I found a spot next to our deck but away from any windows incase it got stinky.

First I should explain about our backyard. One thing that really drew us to this house was the fact that we would have a backyard and access to the garden. It’s stipulated in our lease that, with our landlord’s permission, we can plant and use the backyard all we want. We were excited about this beautiful little area behind our house that was ours. Then our landlord got sick about half a month before we moved in and then died about two days after we had moved in. Having no one to tend to the grass or the garden the backyard became very overgrown and by the time we had unpacked the house and had time to focus on something other then the inside of our apartment the backyard was almost unreachable. Weeds had grown everywhere and some were even as big as I was. I spent the better part of the weekend wrestling with the weeds and tall grass. I still have a lot of work to do back there, bit with the long absence of humans in the backyard the city’s wild life has taken over. So last weekend when I started to move things around I found wild life.

While trying to clear and area for the composter I found two snakes a mouse (alive) and multiple very large and ugly slugs. I’m a big fan of the ‘live and let live’ theory when it comes to wild life but I reserve the right to freak out when I put my hand next to something the it runs away from me.

I haven’t really gotten deep into the backyard until today when I wanted to harvest some of the yummy tomatoes that are growing in the garden. Worried about potential wild life I took Moose with me and set him in the middle of the tomato patch. He looked up at me with distain and sat in the patch for about a minute before he ran off to find a better place to sleep.

I know it’s a bit weird to rely on a cat for protection but until I’m sure I’m not going to encounter something that likes tomatoes more then I do I’m going to rely on kitty power.

In the John Hurt Way

I am not a fan of pain. I work very hard to avoid any pain what-so-ever, so it seems very bizarre to me that women seem so excited about child birth. From what I can tell having a baby pop out of your most sensitive area hurts a lot. Even watching the Johnson-and-Johnson commercial about moms giving birth stresses me out. I started to cry while watching Coupling and Susan gave birth. I know as a women birth is expected of me, and I do want to have a biological child someday. There just doesn’t seem to be a good way of getting a child that will grow inside of me out of me without a lot of pain. The entire process stresses me out.

Remember Alien? Remember that guy who had the alien pop out of him? That was very much like what the births I witnessed while I was in nursing school. Someone’s stomach is sitting out all big and pregnant looking then all of the sudden there is blood and some sort of fluid and a freaking face! Bam! A baby is there.

Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to want to go through labor and have a baby. I know I’m not there yet. So when my friend Andrea told me that she was twelve weeks pregnant I was excited for her but also a bit afraid for her to have so much pain. I guess in the end what I want to say to her and her husband Brian is: congratulations! You are a lot more brave then me.

Don’t Sleep So Close to Me

A lot of people have been asking me how living with Steve is going. Let me tell you, it’s great! I love coming home and having him here. I get to spend every night with him, plus it’s way better to cook for two people when making a meal then for one. Also on nights when I work late Steve makes dinner for me. Coming home to a warm meal after a bad day at work is really nice. Only one thing has been not so great.

I like to sleep in the middle of the bed and spread my arms and legs out in every direction. This way of sleeping tends takes up most of the bed making only enough room for the cat to sleep in between two limbs. I’ve had to adjust having to share a bed EVERY night. I have to sleep on “my side” of the bed or risk the complaints in the morning of how I almost pushed Steve off the bed. So when he left for a few days to go to New York I was secretly excited to have the whole bed to myself again.

The excitement wore off pretty quickly. I didn’t sleep well while Steve was gone despite having the whole bed to myself. I woke up every time I heard a noise and I was contently worried about the cat.

In the end it’s worth giving up half the bed for the security of having someone else to worry about the cat and the things that go bump in the night.

Year 2

So Steve and I have made it through another year together. Today we celebrate two years of hugs, kisses, laughs, tears, and loving each other.


We love pastels

I don’t know what you are suppose to give for a second anniversary so instead I’ll make due with the fact that Steve made me dinner last night and is now doing the dishes. Cheers.

Moose

Following in suite with Adrianne I will also post a picture of my cat.



The New Cat Door


How Moose Spends Most of His Day

Sure he is not as adorable as a fuzzy kitten but he does have a lot of personality and curls up with me in bed while I sleep. Also today he left me a present of a dead mouse in the backyard.

I promise not to post anymore about the cat for awhile after this but he has been one of the biggest changes in life in the last few weeks so for now just enjoy the pics.

Cathood

Having a cat has turned out to be a lot like having a kid, or a lot like what I imagine having a kid would be like. The first week we had him he would wake us up every two hours at night. He would meow and walk around the perimeter of our bed until one of us (usually Steve) would feed him or take him out of the room while the other slept. This last week we decided to make the move to let him outside at his new house.

We walked out with him in our arms on Saturday and let his wild instinct take its course. He sniffed around a bit then disappeared into our backyard and our neighbor’s backyards. We still held the power because we hadn’t put the cat door in yet. He was only allowed out during the day during the weekend. We hoped it would teach him to come home at night, we hoped to let him know that home is where he should sleep.

Monday we installed the cat-door. Moose now has free will to come and go as he pleases. The first night he came in at ten and stayed in. Tonight he stayed out until eleven and has just gone out again. We worry about him; alone and outside in the dark. We keep telling each other that this is what he needs. This is how Moose lives, in total freedom of having to come and go. In the end we hope he still comes in when we turn off the lights and go to bed.

That’s Not My Name

My patient’s call me lots of thing. I don’t blame them for not remembering my name, a lot of people come in and out of a hospital room in one day and just because I might be there for a few hours more then someone else doesn’t mean they need to remember my name. I’ve been called nurse, Marie, Stacy, and even Nurse Ratchet.

But this last week I was called a whole other name. A name I dislike to be call. I was called Ma’m for two days straight by my patient. Nothing makes you feel older then being called that. Ma’m is the woman who works in the general store with floppy arm and wears an apron all the time. I am not a Ma’m. Ms. is pushing it and don’t even try Mrs. I am too young to be a Ma’m and that’s all there is to it.