Nov. 1st
I am grateful for my husband. James drove me to the airport Monday. He made me breakfast and let me sort of zone out snoozily (sleepiness+anxiety) while he concentrated on driving and I had clean laundry to pack and when he left the car at the airport parking lot Wednesday (he's in Texas shooting javelina this week w/his brothers) he emailed me a detailed map w/pictures. He is very thoughtful and very hilarious and very nice. And not back till Monday which is the only reason coming home this afternoon was awesome but not perfect.
Nov. 2nd
I am grateful for a good job. I traveled this week to Pasco (the tri-cities) Washington to help the hospital w/their transition to the new system. The area is known, I learned, for great moderate weather and amazing sunrises and sunsets.
I got to know a lot of cool people from Madison and also a lot of really great people from the organization. This week was awesome/blessed because it helped me see both that I'm going to be good at this job--both from the software side and the interpersonal side--and that I'm going to like it. There are elements both of teaching and managing that really appeal to me, I'm exited to earn expertise that is specific and concrete (after the flip-floppiness of English) and really useful, and the system is big enough and complex enough and variable enough that I don't anticipate getting complacent. It wasn't maybe a remarkable week, but it was challenging in good ways and affirming.
Nov. 3rd
I'm grateful for Mormons. I was driving aimlessly around the other night looking for dinner (I found a Greek place I went to two nights in a row. Most things I want from life can be found in a styrofoam box with a decent gyro and a good greek salad.) when I saw a golden angel Moroni in the distance. I had no idea there was a temple in central Washington, much less 5 minutes from my hotel. I got to visit last night and it felt in so many ways like coming home. Which I pretend a little to myself like I don't need, which is a crock--smiling faces and mormon haircuts and hand-holding couples and all of those cultural nuances I've become so attuned too, good at reading, and which I feel so impotent without.
And the session/aftermath was really really great too. Something I needed w/out even knowing it.
Nov. 4th
I'm grateful for my house. I didn't know how homesick I would be, but it was *marvelous* coming home. We live in a cozy little attic apartment. It was good to see our downstairs neighbors, good to see James' car, good to see my name on the mail waiting for me, good to see our piles of shoes and our unhung pictures and our funny temporary couch and the office that (see entry for Nov. 1st) James put hours into organizing while I was gone--it's a room again! I do love my house.
Nov. 5th
I'm grateful for my family. I got to talk to Anne this week and Connie and I really love and miss my family. It's like the Mormon homesickness, but moreso: belonging and understanding and shared heritage. I had this vision (and I'm trying to remember what sparked this...) of Rachel with short grey hair (I think I was wondering what shade of grey I'd go and if at some point I'd stop dyeing it and just let it be grey)--Rachel older but still herself which reminded me of a post she wrote once about spending waning years in close proximity to theoretically widowed sisters which filled me with a sense of belonging and continuity and comfort about the way our/my life(lives) are changing.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
All Hallow's
This morning I went for a run, the mile or so to our town's little park+lake. It was 37 degrees when I left? Frosty and I was bundled. The lake is surrounded by woods--tall tall trees and legit wild life. I got to the park and there were a group of people in running clothes hula hooping (what? and *love*), I didn't join in (though there were offers and extra hula hoops) but ran instead along the trail that is, apparently, a cross country skiing trail in the winter. I was running into the sun, but the weeds were still covered in frost. I scared a couple of deer that were 20 feet ahead of me on the trail another 15 feet off the trail where they watched me run by. Then the trail narrowed so I started walking. I paused at a spot on the lake shore where the water was so glassy it looked like if I jumped in (which I considered momentarily--it would be ok if I had dry clothes waiting, right?) I would fall into the sky. I watched two dozen geese floating on the water, then swimming, then calling to each other.
And it was so lovely and so perfect.
Tonight it's chilly (which for the moment feels bracing and wonderful) and smells like woodsmoke and the moon is slivered and smokey and...I guess the moral of the story is that I love the fall. And I live in an absolutely perfect place. And EB White: eat your heart out. :) And, when I get my iPhone, won't you all feel lucky?
Love love love,
keb.
And it was so lovely and so perfect.
Tonight it's chilly (which for the moment feels bracing and wonderful) and smells like woodsmoke and the moon is slivered and smokey and...I guess the moral of the story is that I love the fall. And I live in an absolutely perfect place. And EB White: eat your heart out. :) And, when I get my iPhone, won't you all feel lucky?
Love love love,
keb.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Anniversary
I feel like I post a lot about my dad here. Which I feel ok about because I don't journal so faithfully as I used to. Which I feel sort of sheepish about because I like to think I'm sort of a private person (sort of) and I'm worried I lean toward, like, LiveJournal-esque emo blogging. So the disclaimer: this isn't cheery or entertaining. And also, I'm not looking for sympathy.
My dad died a year ago tomorrow. I came back from teaching the evening class (which was ended exactly this time that Monday evening) to an urgent sounding message from Alex who worked with Dennis that I should give them a call. I did: Dennis was in the hospital. He had collapsed at work and he was taken in an ambulance to the hospital downtown. I was flustered at this point, but not sure how to feel: I knew he'd spent some time admitted a couple of months before (we found out after the fact, incidentally, and I was hurt and furious about that. Selfish bastard), so figured that either it was nothing at all and they'd called because they were more worried than he was, or it was a real-life emergency, which I wasn't really ready to think about and decided to try not to panic in case it turned out to be nothing.
I called Rachel who lives in Sandy to go check it out: she's my oldest sister and the one who lives closest to Salt Lake. She said she'd take Randy (husband) and go and let us know. (This is such a perfect scenario, can I say? Rachel coming to save the day? Rachel doing the hard thing. It was 95% convenience, but, really, what would *I* have done?)
So. James came to pick me up from the office. We ate Subway (distractedly) in the Cougareat. Jeremy called me--apparently he'd heard not from Rachel but from his friend whose other distant friend (who we'd never met) was Dennis's emergency contact (again, I was so mad).
I was waiting for an FHE in the library to start when Randy called to tell me Dennis was gone. Because he's a great brother-in-law and a great husband. I didn't cry, but told Christina who was hosting FHE who hugged me, and gathered my things and told James we had to go to Salt Lake and we went.
Have I written this? He was dead when he got to the hospital. Apparently his coworkers left him in his office to have a meeting and when they got back (half an hour later? More?) his heart wasn't beating. There was a doctor passing by who administered CPR till the ambulance came, but there wasn't any sign of anything. This seems like the most tragic part, right? And one I hesitate to think about not because it's miserable, but because part of me wants to turn it into a poem or an essay, some morbid imagining of my dad's last moments, my dad dying alone.
I was the first one, after R&R, at the hospital. There were hugs, and Rachel told me they gave her Dennis's wallet which made her cry. And I went to go see the body, which was mostly weird and purple and foreign. I don't think I touched him, or not much. Rachel was very sweet and contemplative, rubbing his forehead in a way I could never imagine happening in real life.
James was there the whole time, the whole week in fact, taking time off work to hang out with the family, or to sit close, or to let me cry as we sat alone in Dennis's empty apartment. What a good man I got.
Anne got there half an hour later or so, with another round of Diet Cokes and bustling with competent energy. We spent a lot of time laughing that night, a lot of time planning and talking through details. We waited for Melissa to get down from Rexburg and Jeremy from Boise and fended off the ED nurse who needed the room (now that I have a better sense of how highly in demand ED beds are I feel a little bad). And it was really delightful and tender and difficult.
PostScript: I only cried once the week of Dennis's funeral. And it was kind of intense, but didn't feel real still? I have pangs of emotion--I wrote about preparing for the wedding. When we discuss emergency contacts at work or Epic's neat functionality triggered by marking a patient as 'deceased' or when a dummy patient's last name is Borzoi I get twinges of sadness or anger or regret.
And right now I'm feeling sort of low--or part of it at least is that I can look back from this distance and recognized how hard that was to get through. How Dennis' death marked the beginning of one of the most challenging (in a thousand ways. and wonderful) years of my life. And my family's life. I feel ok that only now am I beginning to let myself know what his death means and meant and how his life shaped mine. I guess moving toward accepting the fact that I'm a slow reactor when it comes to emotional things. It takes some thought and some time to figure out how I feel.
And. I guess I want to say, too, how wonderful everyone was. Rachel and Randy organizing with the mortuary and other hard adult-y things, Jeremy taking care of all of Dennis' accounts and documents--breaking into Dennis' email (finally--I've told this story? His security question was "who's your favorite author" and we only had 5 guesses every 12 hours and that puzzle punctuated the funeral week), Anne doing the details--getting the burial outfit together, etc times 1000, Melissa finding a spot for Dennis' skittish spoiled wolf hound. And the extended family. And my grandmother. And Connie. And my great friends who came to the funeral and washed my dishes and brought dinner and put up with me moping.
So. Tomorrow I think James and I will honor Dennis by buying some flowers and eating something delicious. I hear the Utah crew are planning honors graveside (I miss them/wish I were there). And that is the end.
My dad died a year ago tomorrow. I came back from teaching the evening class (which was ended exactly this time that Monday evening) to an urgent sounding message from Alex who worked with Dennis that I should give them a call. I did: Dennis was in the hospital. He had collapsed at work and he was taken in an ambulance to the hospital downtown. I was flustered at this point, but not sure how to feel: I knew he'd spent some time admitted a couple of months before (we found out after the fact, incidentally, and I was hurt and furious about that. Selfish bastard), so figured that either it was nothing at all and they'd called because they were more worried than he was, or it was a real-life emergency, which I wasn't really ready to think about and decided to try not to panic in case it turned out to be nothing.
I called Rachel who lives in Sandy to go check it out: she's my oldest sister and the one who lives closest to Salt Lake. She said she'd take Randy (husband) and go and let us know. (This is such a perfect scenario, can I say? Rachel coming to save the day? Rachel doing the hard thing. It was 95% convenience, but, really, what would *I* have done?)
So. James came to pick me up from the office. We ate Subway (distractedly) in the Cougareat. Jeremy called me--apparently he'd heard not from Rachel but from his friend whose other distant friend (who we'd never met) was Dennis's emergency contact (again, I was so mad).
I was waiting for an FHE in the library to start when Randy called to tell me Dennis was gone. Because he's a great brother-in-law and a great husband. I didn't cry, but told Christina who was hosting FHE who hugged me, and gathered my things and told James we had to go to Salt Lake and we went.
Have I written this? He was dead when he got to the hospital. Apparently his coworkers left him in his office to have a meeting and when they got back (half an hour later? More?) his heart wasn't beating. There was a doctor passing by who administered CPR till the ambulance came, but there wasn't any sign of anything. This seems like the most tragic part, right? And one I hesitate to think about not because it's miserable, but because part of me wants to turn it into a poem or an essay, some morbid imagining of my dad's last moments, my dad dying alone.
I was the first one, after R&R, at the hospital. There were hugs, and Rachel told me they gave her Dennis's wallet which made her cry. And I went to go see the body, which was mostly weird and purple and foreign. I don't think I touched him, or not much. Rachel was very sweet and contemplative, rubbing his forehead in a way I could never imagine happening in real life.
James was there the whole time, the whole week in fact, taking time off work to hang out with the family, or to sit close, or to let me cry as we sat alone in Dennis's empty apartment. What a good man I got.
Anne got there half an hour later or so, with another round of Diet Cokes and bustling with competent energy. We spent a lot of time laughing that night, a lot of time planning and talking through details. We waited for Melissa to get down from Rexburg and Jeremy from Boise and fended off the ED nurse who needed the room (now that I have a better sense of how highly in demand ED beds are I feel a little bad). And it was really delightful and tender and difficult.
PostScript: I only cried once the week of Dennis's funeral. And it was kind of intense, but didn't feel real still? I have pangs of emotion--I wrote about preparing for the wedding. When we discuss emergency contacts at work or Epic's neat functionality triggered by marking a patient as 'deceased' or when a dummy patient's last name is Borzoi I get twinges of sadness or anger or regret.
And right now I'm feeling sort of low--or part of it at least is that I can look back from this distance and recognized how hard that was to get through. How Dennis' death marked the beginning of one of the most challenging (in a thousand ways. and wonderful) years of my life. And my family's life. I feel ok that only now am I beginning to let myself know what his death means and meant and how his life shaped mine. I guess moving toward accepting the fact that I'm a slow reactor when it comes to emotional things. It takes some thought and some time to figure out how I feel.
And. I guess I want to say, too, how wonderful everyone was. Rachel and Randy organizing with the mortuary and other hard adult-y things, Jeremy taking care of all of Dennis' accounts and documents--breaking into Dennis' email (finally--I've told this story? His security question was "who's your favorite author" and we only had 5 guesses every 12 hours and that puzzle punctuated the funeral week), Anne doing the details--getting the burial outfit together, etc times 1000, Melissa finding a spot for Dennis' skittish spoiled wolf hound. And the extended family. And my grandmother. And Connie. And my great friends who came to the funeral and washed my dishes and brought dinner and put up with me moping.
So. Tomorrow I think James and I will honor Dennis by buying some flowers and eating something delicious. I hear the Utah crew are planning honors graveside (I miss them/wish I were there). And that is the end.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
High strung a touch?
James suggested we start watching The Walking Dead--apparently we'd never had the "I'm not great with scary movies" discussion. Even though I couldn't make it through the first episode (we finished it and the second the next day. In the early evening. When it was still light outside) I couldn't stop thinking about it. It's haunting, and not in a Halloween-y way, in a really human, gripping, emotionally rich way. And while the bits of other episodes I've seen since we started haven't wowed me as much as the first (there are just excruciatingly beautiful moments there), I will probably keep watching or at the very least making James relate detailed synopses. Also, it's gotten me thinking, mostly about apocalyptic crises. And about zombies:
For instance. I'm not sure I buy the wide-spread zombie apocalypse scenario. For a couple of reasons. First, zombies are voracious. There's a very graphic/beautiful image of a zombie feeding frenzy that includes frantic grabbing for entrails which makes me wonder how often it could happen that you get bitten and not eaten. And the virus or whatever isn't airborne, it's bite-borne, which means there isn't really an uncontrollable epidemic to worry about. And all the chaos was supposed to go down in a couple of weeks, which seems unlikely--I can see it spreading, but not quite so quickly? Maybe I'm just trying to intellectualize the thing because, man, that show's real creepy. So good at suspense.
In other apocalyptic news: I feel really lucky to have a good job. There is no reason I should and it's awesome.
Fall in Mt. Horeb is gorgeous--lots of chilly sunny days and leaf burning. And I have big plans for dinner tomorrow (homemade graham cracker ice cream s'mores anyone? And parsnips a la Mark Bittman? I love Sunday).
Loves.
For instance. I'm not sure I buy the wide-spread zombie apocalypse scenario. For a couple of reasons. First, zombies are voracious. There's a very graphic/beautiful image of a zombie feeding frenzy that includes frantic grabbing for entrails which makes me wonder how often it could happen that you get bitten and not eaten. And the virus or whatever isn't airborne, it's bite-borne, which means there isn't really an uncontrollable epidemic to worry about. And all the chaos was supposed to go down in a couple of weeks, which seems unlikely--I can see it spreading, but not quite so quickly? Maybe I'm just trying to intellectualize the thing because, man, that show's real creepy. So good at suspense.
In other apocalyptic news: I feel really lucky to have a good job. There is no reason I should and it's awesome.
Fall in Mt. Horeb is gorgeous--lots of chilly sunny days and leaf burning. And I have big plans for dinner tomorrow (homemade graham cracker ice cream s'mores anyone? And parsnips a la Mark Bittman? I love Sunday).
Loves.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
wonderful+wintry
Sunshiney fall is out--the weather here is drippy and chilly and I wouldn't mind, but the cold is already seeping into my bones (we had 91% humidity yesterday) and I'm trying to pretend I'll survive the winter (right now I'm wearing thermals, a tshirt and a fleece and snuggling under our down comforter. In defense, we haven't figured out how to turn our heat on? I love Wisconsin I love it I love it.)
In work news, this week was the User's Group Meeting, which is when Epic's clients come to Madison and talk about how they've made Epic work for them. It's a huge deal (6,500 people) and was really cool--most things went straight over my head, but it gave me a sense of what challenges I'll face (people are throwing around the phrase 'change management' which is sounds like something I want to read more about) and how Epic can help. A C(E?)O of a huge hospital organization gave a talk about the financial and efficiency benefits of installing an EMR like Epic, talked about what it takes to really utilize the thing (way more (or different) planning, time, and money than most people anticipate), but that if done properly, it can really really help. A small, ignored part of me just shivered in delight at the *graphs* and *facts* and *figures*. Epic is a company, with foibles any company has, but we can do stuff, we can make a noticeable difference. Business=sexy. Is the moral of that story.
I also met w/my supervisor as it were and mapped out the next several months. Intense and just getting more intense is the sense I'm getting. So. Girding my loins for that.
In James news: he's handsome. Trying to decided whether to cut his hair or shave his beard. Working working working. Also building us a bed, which is super manly and delightful. And doing laundry and washing dishes and generally being an awesome house husband. He might not like me to call him that, but he does make me breakfast while I'm in the shower and tonight made a piecrust that I'm almost certain is going to be magical.
Our Friday night date was grocery shopping to Trader Joe's! We got mochi and stroop waffles and this *amazing* roasted salsa that we eat with *amazing* sweet potato tortilla chips, and all other sorts of delightful treats. We also stopped by a grocery store called Woodman's which is quite possibly the largest grocery store I've been in ever in my life. Like a butter *aisle* big. Like *what brand* of 106 oz stewed skinned tomatoes do you want, exactly, or rice noodles or fish sauce, big. Also a wonderful magical place. We've been shopping at a charming little store in Mt. Horeb, and weren't quite prepared for the profusion.
Also, we're loving Wisconsin. We keep running into towns that are yet tinier and yet more adorable than Mt. Horeb (New Glarus, this week--Little Switzerland and I sort of want to eat it with a toothpick it was so cute. We bought a cabinet from a middle school science teacher's wife whose boys were wrestling on the grass.) And, on our way to church:
Just delightful. :) And. We'll take pictures of things eventually.
Loves, ke(b).
In work news, this week was the User's Group Meeting, which is when Epic's clients come to Madison and talk about how they've made Epic work for them. It's a huge deal (6,500 people) and was really cool--most things went straight over my head, but it gave me a sense of what challenges I'll face (people are throwing around the phrase 'change management' which is sounds like something I want to read more about) and how Epic can help. A C(E?)O of a huge hospital organization gave a talk about the financial and efficiency benefits of installing an EMR like Epic, talked about what it takes to really utilize the thing (way more (or different) planning, time, and money than most people anticipate), but that if done properly, it can really really help. A small, ignored part of me just shivered in delight at the *graphs* and *facts* and *figures*. Epic is a company, with foibles any company has, but we can do stuff, we can make a noticeable difference. Business=sexy. Is the moral of that story.
I also met w/my supervisor as it were and mapped out the next several months. Intense and just getting more intense is the sense I'm getting. So. Girding my loins for that.
In James news: he's handsome. Trying to decided whether to cut his hair or shave his beard. Working working working. Also building us a bed, which is super manly and delightful. And doing laundry and washing dishes and generally being an awesome house husband. He might not like me to call him that, but he does make me breakfast while I'm in the shower and tonight made a piecrust that I'm almost certain is going to be magical.
Our Friday night date was grocery shopping to Trader Joe's! We got mochi and stroop waffles and this *amazing* roasted salsa that we eat with *amazing* sweet potato tortilla chips, and all other sorts of delightful treats. We also stopped by a grocery store called Woodman's which is quite possibly the largest grocery store I've been in ever in my life. Like a butter *aisle* big. Like *what brand* of 106 oz stewed skinned tomatoes do you want, exactly, or rice noodles or fish sauce, big. Also a wonderful magical place. We've been shopping at a charming little store in Mt. Horeb, and weren't quite prepared for the profusion.
Also, we're loving Wisconsin. We keep running into towns that are yet tinier and yet more adorable than Mt. Horeb (New Glarus, this week--Little Switzerland and I sort of want to eat it with a toothpick it was so cute. We bought a cabinet from a middle school science teacher's wife whose boys were wrestling on the grass.) And, on our way to church:
Loves, ke(b).
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Another great week: I finished up orientation at work, we found (and James picked up) a sweet little dining set, James got our office piles organized, we hung out with friends at the Grumpy Troll, and we tried the ride into work yesterday. A beautiful day and ride.
Today is dreary and cold (we think our heat is controlled by our downstairs neighbors, but aren't sure yet) so I'm making some smashed veggies which we will probably eat in bed. And: see wedding photos on Facebook (hurrah!)
Today is dreary and cold (we think our heat is controlled by our downstairs neighbors, but aren't sure yet) so I'm making some smashed veggies which we will probably eat in bed. And: see wedding photos on Facebook (hurrah!)
Sunday, September 11, 2011
(Mid) Western Girl
Some things about Wisconsin:
1. I thought I knew some things about spiders. We have them in Utah! And they get me all squirmy! But I can kill them if necessary. Then I went into the basement of our house (we signed a lease for a 2 bedroom attic apartment with a little storage, yellow walls, and new carpet. It's downtown Mt. Horeb and *adorable*)--there were several examples of several *species* of spiders. All with webs with bugs in them. These spiders are not messing around.
Also: House Centipedes. Are a real thing. And they look like this:
And James found one *in our house* under our bed! (Which is a pile of blankets and foam rubber!) Eeew eeew eew.
2. I also thought I knew a thing or two about big powerful thunderstorms, but last week (the first night in our house, actually) we had a storm that looked like one giant lightening bolt--like a wonky strobe light (I wrote "slightly wonky" first, then deleted the qualifier because we're listening to the Hunger Games and if Suzanne Collins uses another adverb I'm going to poke myself in the eye). And the alley behind our house turned into a river and the next day was gorgeous, if a little muggy.
3. There are lakes here, and forests. A lot of magical--we went camping with some folks from our ward this weekend and it was lovely. And we forgot our camera.
And. I started my job and it's going well. A lot of training. A really great and cheap cafeteria.
:)
1. I thought I knew some things about spiders. We have them in Utah! And they get me all squirmy! But I can kill them if necessary. Then I went into the basement of our house (we signed a lease for a 2 bedroom attic apartment with a little storage, yellow walls, and new carpet. It's downtown Mt. Horeb and *adorable*)--there were several examples of several *species* of spiders. All with webs with bugs in them. These spiders are not messing around.
Also: House Centipedes. Are a real thing. And they look like this:
2. I also thought I knew a thing or two about big powerful thunderstorms, but last week (the first night in our house, actually) we had a storm that looked like one giant lightening bolt--like a wonky strobe light (I wrote "slightly wonky" first, then deleted the qualifier because we're listening to the Hunger Games and if Suzanne Collins uses another adverb I'm going to poke myself in the eye). And the alley behind our house turned into a river and the next day was gorgeous, if a little muggy.
3. There are lakes here, and forests. A lot of magical--we went camping with some folks from our ward this weekend and it was lovely. And we forgot our camera.
And. I started my job and it's going well. A lot of training. A really great and cheap cafeteria.
:)
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