Legal Troubles

My heart STOPPED this afternoon when I ducked into my Fozzie Heights office after being at the other campus all morning. The secretaries are usually good about opening the mail and organizing the stuff for you to read, stuff for you to sign, stuff for you to send on after your perusal, etc. Except that I spotted a large brown envelope in my inbox, from the legal firm that represents St. Fozzie's and Muppet Corporate.

I instantly broke out into a cold sweat, sure that this was the subpoena from one of the malpractice cases I thought I dodged several weeks ago. I had two cases I was sweating but after we waived the hospital portion of the fees, I thought everything had blown over.

As I tore into the envelope, I saw my career flashing before my eyes and exploding in a plume of radioactive uranium to an early death. Shaking as I rifled through the paperwork inside, I couldn't locate the suing company's name. Who's ending my career?! Who are they? Who dares to do this to me?!

Pausing to READ the documents inside, I saw that it was merely an invitation (and accompanying coursework) for a legal conference in which they were discussing nonprofit healthcare and healthcare reform. And would I be willing to attend?

Yeah…cue the deep breath. They REALLY shouldn't send those things in the same envelopes they use to ship subpoenas!

Fish

In 24 days, I'll be relaxing on the beach with the newest issue of US Weekly (shhhhh!), an umbrella drink, and some Jimmy Buffet piping out my tiny travel speakers.



Oh, and don't forget to feed the fish on the sidebar (you do this by clicking around on the box). Thought this was a lively addition to Just Keep Swimming!

Philly: Tourists and Cheesesteaks

Because Jack and I almost always vacation in sunny, beach-releated retreats, we rarely have the chance to do any actual tourist activities. Even when we went to Ireland, we kept our tourist tendencies to a minimum. It dawned on me that I've visited 28 countries but have never seen any significant monument from American history!

So, in Philly, we cast aside our worries and hit the tourist track.



Flying in Thursday morning, we jumped in our rental car, stashed our belongings at the B&B (located on the campus of Temple University) and hit the path. We visited Independence Hall (where the Declaration of Independence and Constitution were signed), snapped our pictures with the Liberty Bell (reverently enshrined in a plexiglass room), took a self-paced tour of the US Mint (which was stamping quarters and pennies for our monetary pleasure), and revered Benjamin Franklin's grave. We gaped at the seemingly tongue-in-cheek Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and George Washington characters milling around the area. Why hadn't I swallowed my pride and had my picture taken with George Washington? That would have been a neat shot for when I open my B&B and need celebrity pictures to line my downstairs bar!

Before and after our touring, we indulged in Philly Cheese steak sandwiches. I'm glad I'm a carnivore!

On Friday night, Jack and I took off for Pat's, the world-renowned Cheese steak dive in southern Philly. When we received our cheese steaks, neither one of us said one word for the entire 15 minutes it took to eat (inhale) those sandwiches. Everyone knows it's a Pat's v. Gino's war in Philly for the best steak, but we opted for Pat's.





With stomachs full of cheese steak bliss, we hit the bridge. As in, the Benjamin Franklin Bridge to Camden, New Jersey. A three-mile round trip, we hiked the bridge at twilight and savored a breezy, 80 degree summer evening from the bridge. I must note that this is the first time I got stage fright. I'm not afraid of heights and this bridge totally overwhelmed my sense of balance!



Then on Sunday, God hit the "Oh, that's right, it's autumn!" button on His eternal dashboard and the weather transformed from sticky and 90 to freezing cold, damp, and 60 (of COURSE we packed for this change). I drug my sick self out of bed Sunday morning and while we briefly debating changing our flights to an earlier time, we decided to make the most of the day.

I've always wanted to see Eastern State Penitentary. I have a strange fascination with jails...so many people come to terms with their lives' actions (or go insane!) in those rooms and spend months or years within their walls. Some emerge with a completely-different world outside their doorsteps (think Shawshank Redemption). So Jack indulged me on my jail tour and we visited Eastern State. Even though I sported a probably-100+ degree temperature and was going through kleenex at a rate of two boxes every hour, what better way to spend the day than trooping through the rain at a prison?

It was awful. The outside, shrouded in heavy, dark granite and iron grates, resembled a medieval castle. A 7-foot thick, 30 foot-high wall guarded the property, which was divided into a total of 12 cell blocks. Designed to deter crime in 1820's Philly, the castle-structure pioneered the concept of solitary confinement and with its dark, dank cells, tried to reform hardened criminals within its walls.



Pause for shivers!

Jack and I, always the geeks, joined an architectural tour to see behind-the-scenes cell blocks and courtyards. I thought the rain added a degree of penance even the Quakers would have been proud of. The Penitentary (from the word "penance") was a worthwhile stop on our Philly tour and after being soaked in the steady rain, Jack and I sought refuge at Jack's Firehouse (across the street) for lunch.

So while I have to return to Philly in April, I doubt Jack will return with me. Unless, of course, I can dangle a Pat's cheese steak in front of his eyes in a hypnotic manner!

Philly: Ethics

I went to Philly with the understanding that I would have two solid days of Catholic moral theology and healthcare ethics. Healthcare ethics addresses how you run hospitals so they are consistent with Catholic teaching. Just in case you were curious! I drove through a very questionable part of town to reach the conference locale, forcing me to run through my litany of favorite saints for protection! Perhaps that was the calisthenics portion of the seminar? :)

While I knew the ethics portion would be heavy, I couldn't wait to attend the conference. With seminars entitled "When 'Dead' Really Means Dead," "Babies are Begotten, not Made," "The Whole Story of Stem Cell Research," and "The Good, Bad, and Ugly of Organ Transplantation," I knew I was in for a treat! The "less controversial" topics, such as Advanced Directives and End-of-Life Care, also created rich discussion among the interesting divide of participants in the conference. As usual, I was the youngest in the room by 20+ years, half the room was represented by Religious and physicians, and the others consisted of heady, intellectual administrators who liked to discuss the discourses of Catholic theology in their spare time. Seriously, how often do you walk into a room and hear arguments about the veracity of the Council of Nicea and medieval theology's incorrect interpretation of Christ's divinity and how it led to the schism of the Church?

This was intellectually-aggressive fodder, considering the fact that the days' seminars gave the option to start with hour-long masses. Perusing the agenda beforehand, I couldn't understand why they budgeted an hour for mass when it was on the weekday...then I found out it the mass was solemn, sung Latin.
Rats, I'm totally lapsed on my pre-Vatican II Latin! I need the Rosetta Stone software to learn Latin!

Regardless, the ethics portion of the weekend was wonderful. I actually grasped the Church's reasoning behind its ethical stances and understood how they evolved from natural law. It wasn't just a bunch of upper-middle class white men in their 70's, sitting around in robes, trying to think of ways to make Catholics' lives less entertaining (as is the case with popular thought). The ethics actually stems from Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas' understanding of human morality and interpretation of natural law. Interesting stuff.

How many people get to study one of their passions as part of their job?! I will keep telling myself this as I trudge through the two seven-pound ethics textbooks they sent home with each participant...(even as she slaps her forehead with her right hand in the shape of an "L")!!

Philly Phlu

Well, I'm back from Philadelphia. I saw the sights of American history (Independence Hall, Liberty Bell, the Mint, Ben Franklin Bridge, and Eastern State Penitentary), attended two days of Catholic bioethics traning, ate three different iterations of Philly cheesesteaks, and came down with a massive bug.

Actually, I was getting sick before we left (Jack went to Philly with me). On the drive home from work, late Wednesday evening, one minute I was fine and the next minute I was swallowing razor blades. I knew my stress would catch up with me, but of course it had to happen when Jack and I had a romantic weekend planned around my ethics training!

I fought through and medicated accordingly. However, my lack of stopping to rest in Philly made me even more sick and now I'm typing this from my bed (yes, at 10:51 on a Monday morning) because I feel like I have the Plague. Being faced with 12 straight hours of booked meetings today was too much and after taking my temp to see it 101.8 this morning and being racked with body aches, I cried "uncle!" Actually, I cried "secretary" and asked my assistant to cancel everything today. Two teleconferences I can handle. Twelve hours of meetings...well...that makes me want to hide in an earthen cave and avoid civilization by canning my own homemade salsa.

Hey, as newsworthy as my sick days are, at least it gives me time to update this!

Home

After being at the Fozzie Fields campus all day Monday and in Lean training (which I was asked to spearhead on a hospital-wide level!) for the last two days, I drug myself back into the executive offices at 5:27 p.m. this evening. One of the secretaries looked up when I walked by, toting my stack of used newsprint, markers, and binders, and said, "Oh, you're finally home!"

While I do often think of this place as "home," just because I am here an awful lot, it warmed my tired heart in an unexpected way to hear her welcome me back.

I'm a cornball, what can I say?!

Potatoes!

[Insert big, long sigh here.]

Day One of MPH training is complete!

"MPH" stands for "Mister Potato Head." And it was the simulation used to help a group of hospital directors figure out how to use Lean methodologies in their departments. We know we're not cranking out patients here, but many of the methodologies used in factories actually relate to the hospital setting.

It is pretty hilarious to see all these uptight and proper people, flailing through a Mr. Potato Head assembly line (picture hands, glasses, and noses flying everywhere), to replicate a manufacturing environment. We created the first assembly line to be purposefully slow and bottleneck-y and we let the group create process changes that would streamline the assembly process.

Except that when we allowed them to make changes to the process, we also increased the productivity demands and made them output more product with less time. That's *exactly* what happens in the hospital!

Soon, even the stoic, old-school directors were laughing and joining in the fun. The day consisted of other activities and break-out sessions, but MPH was the conversation point of the day. I don't think anyone will look at a MPH the same way, ever again.

I know I won't...especially after setting up the simulation and seeing 30+ naked, blank potato heads in a Rubbermaid box! Aaugh! Aaaaugh! My eyes!

Leadership versus Management

All I can say from today is "Ugh!"

I hired a new manager today. She was one of two in an internal applicant pool I interviewed for the position. I created the job for one of them, so they had a 50/50chance each. The candidates were on polar ends of the scale; one was a seasoned manager, accustomed to running a department in black and white decisions. One was an inexperienced manager who had passion and enthusiasm eeking out her pores. She radiated leadership. In my head, it wasn't a contest. I made my decision; my notes and objective rating scale agreed with my gut. I ran my decision past the Medical Director of the department who quickly agreed with me.

I hired the inexperienced leader.

You can teach a leader how to manage, but you cannot teach a manager how to lead. Leadership is in your bones, it's in your genes. You cannot fake it and even more so, the people around you REALLY KNOW when you are faking it. This department needs a leader, not a manager. The management part can be learned.

So I gave the applicants the news. Actually, the conversation where I hired the manager was fun. She cried and then got so embarrassed that she cried! Then she immediately agreed to get tougher. All in all, it was a positive experience and I'm going to help her learn the managerial gig. The second candidate was MUCH harder. I had no idea how hard it was to tell an internal candidate that they didn't get the job. They have to work with the others day-in, day-out and there's a huge potential for an "us" versus "they" situation. I hate to say this, but I learned a lot from my former experience when I didn't get the position I applied for.

Interviewing and hiring external candidates is completely different.** You don't know them or their experience, so you can be objective when you converse with them. I don't even tell non-chosen applicants they didn't get the job; I have Human Resources do that dirty work! So this was a first for me...I think I weathered it okay, but time will tell.

**By the way, I have to insert a small anecdote that made me think of my friend Lula (who also hired lately). On one of my external job postings, I received three bizarre email addresses for applicants' contact information! One was "GlitzEgal," one was "Greenacres," and one was "BedSqueeka." C'mon, if you're going to apply for a job, get a generic email address (even if you never check it!).

Gala Gear

My job occasionally requires me to don an evening gown, strap on some fancy, high-heeled sandals, and drag out the pearl and/or rhinestone jewelry I keep in a shoebox in the back of my spare closet. Gala season is quickly approaching and the hospital's gala is in a few short weeks. It's a black tie affair at the Palmer House Hilton.

Cue the tension headache and hyper-ventilation!

I stress about these hospital-sponsored events where I have to dress up in cocktail attire. I work for nuns, so that immediately means 3/4 of the dresses are out of the question. Plunging neckline to there? Leg slit up to where? So short you cannot walk without it hiking up to your waist? Yeah, you get the picture.

Plus, I just hate dress shopping (it's an impossible combination...finding a dress you love, that fits well, that costs less than $100, in less than an hour). I hate going to the mall and believe it or not, tend to avoid the mall. I do hit the outlet mall, but that's only if I need a couple suits or black heels for work.

So imagine my surprise when Jack spearheaded Operation: Find Inexpensive, Flattering, Semi-Modest Dress for Dorrie in One Hour. I laughed at the sheer ignorance of his boyish enthusiasm.

Yet I actually found my gala dress at Macy's, the second store we visited. It was quick, the dress is flattering, and I found perfectly-matching high-heeled dancin' shoes at DSW. In short, it was a miracle.

The above picture is the closest I could find to the dress. Except mine is a midnight blue satin (with midnight shoes!). So now I'm excited to attend the gala...I have something to wear on the big night!

Irish Chi Sox

I'm actually relishing the rainy, cloudy day this Saturday afternoon. Rainy days give me permission to relax and lounge in bed (after I've done a few hours of work and gone running!). Nonetheless, today's rainy, crusty fall day encouraged Jack to whip up a simmering pot of chili and allowed me to nap during the slow points of the college football games.

This week is finally over and I couldn't be happier. The stress beat me down and by the end of the week, I dreaded looking into the mirror to see my own blood-shot eyes and under-eye bags staring me back in my reflection. All vanity aside, that's just not pretty!

Last night, we went to a ChiSox game with two of Jack's friends and while it was great, the Sox lost (actually, they got pulverized). I still take it for granted that we live 20 minutes from The Cell and that going to games is within our realm of possibilities. I just wish the Cubs OR Sox would do something fabulous...we have two teams here and both seem to tank at the end of the season!

At least it was "Halfway to St. Patty's Day" at The Cell. The Sox wear green, U2 and other Irish bands infiltrate the airwaves, and a group of Irish, kilt-wearing singers sung the National Anthem.

Oh, and there's green beer. Let's not forget about the green beer.

Even those that "Irish" team lost last night, let's hope a certain other Irish team can win against Michigan State tonight!

Overload=Cruising

Well, I'm to that point again where I feel like I'm going to end up in my own cath lab. I think I surpassed 40 hours on Tuesday evening. After that kind of stress and long hours, I felt my body start to break down last night. I left work at 8:30 pm, peeling myself out of my office chair to go home. I had only been sitting there for about four hours, but I was in some serious pain. The right side of my back radiated pain and I couldn't move. Figuring it would get better when I laid down, I went straight to bed when I got home.

After two hours, I finally gave up on my fitful sleep and drug out the heating pad and Advil. Then I called The Edge and asked her to please kidnap me and get me away from Chicago. The Edge is my oldest friend and since Jack now has a job (did I tell you? Jack has a job!), he cannot vacation with me during a time when it's either vacation or two weeks in the looney bin. Edge agreed to stand in for Jack and whisk me away on a 5-night Caribbean cruise. Jack, seeing the stress decimating my wellbeing, encouraged us to go cruising. After all, he deserves a polished, put-together, NICE wife. I haven't exactly been nice lately.

Sorry, Jack!

Jack's uncanny ability to put my wellbeing first has resulted in several girl weekends during our marriage. I return happy, rested, and grateful for his generosity. Overall, a win-win.

So anyway, the last time I ran this type of insanity was during grad school, when I was taking three courses while working full time. There would be times where my exhaustion would blur reality and I couldn't remember if I did something or dreamt I did it! Well, even though I'm back in school, the coursework isn't too onerous. But the job is. This job is killing me and my eyes actually involuntarily cross at times.

For instance, this week alone, I performed a mock compliance survey of three inpatient units, interviewed four people, spoke with at least ten physicians, laid the foundation for a continuity clinic on site, ran three departmental staff meetings, took an 8-hour inservice on disaster preparedness, and created a multi-disciplinary surgery improvement team to attack all facets of surgery quality, safety, and outcomes. My job is cool. And people must trust me, since they're asking me to dabble in surgery improvement, an areas heavily policed by CMS.

But I'm noticing a trend…if something needs organizing, they bring me in. If something needs a structure/methodology, they bring me in. If program creation needs a kick, they ask me. If something needs academic writing or verbiage, they call me. There are thousands of ideas around the hospital, but when they need help organizing them and planning ideas' execution, well, that's where I come in.

I guess that's a good skill to have and I'm thrilled that I've become Administration's "go to" person for this. My only question is…what do you call this person? What do you call an "idea harvester and thought organizer?"

It's a flattering job and because of the trust given to me by the other executives, I'm getting things done at an alarming pace. I say "alarming," because some people don't like change (even if it's improvement we're seeking). Every now and then I sit in my office, face in my hands, and wonder what to work on next. I haven't seen the surface of either desk in weeks. It bothers my Type-A, OCD self.

I need to call someone in to have them organize my CRAPOLA. Ha!

So that's what's up here. Jack has a (wonderful, well-paying) job, I'm cracking at the seams, and I'm booking a girlfriend cruise to escape. How are you today?

Quote Journal: Happy

Apparently, I've had a lot to say lately. Hope I'm not wearing out your welcome!

I'm enjoying a rare bit of peace this Sunday afternoon. The sun is shining through the gently-swaying leaves of our mighty elm tree. It's 72 degrees and I can't imagine a more perfect weather-day in Chicagoland. So, of course, I'm frittering away the beautiful day while I prepare for my upcoming week. Hey, at least I'm out on the deck!

I've come to a critical place in my life and I think this is the reason for the peace I feel in the still, deep waters of my spirit. This whole entire year has been so very tough...I don't have to list the trials and challenges Jack and I faced with our jobs and houses and families and futures. It's intense, but I know others have worse trials than we do. I've had some difficult situations at work, but at least I have a job and a career path that I love.

The fact of the matter is that I have a choice concerning all of this. I can mope around, sad for what could have been. I can look back and wonder why things had to happen to me. I can spend my days in some sort of funk, feeling sorry for myself.

Or I can take a minute and get over it. All of it. My dear friend, Lula, has a quote that I had to steal and adopt for myself:

"Life is too short to be anything other than happy."

Happiness is a choice and I completely agree with Lula...that life is too short to be anything other than happy.

Thank you to all my friends who have gotten me through the rockiest month of my life.

September 11

Before I dash off to the gym (lucky that I have the freedom to do such a thing), I would like to post a brief remembrance to those who lost their lives on September 11, 2001. They say you never forget where you were or what you were doing during such traumatic event.

I was at the dentist's office (with Jack). The dentist, while finishing up our routine cleanings, turned up the television in their break room so we could hear what was transpiring on the CNN feed.

Then we went our separate ways to work. I was an accountant at the time (that's pretty traumatic, too, as I hated my job situation) and remember sitting at a red light on Edison Lakes Parkway (where my office was located) when the live feed that took over all the local radio stations announced that the first tower had collapsed.

I rushed inside, threw my purse in my desk, and joined my co-workers at a television hastily set up in the Marketing office. Shell shocked, we all watched as the fire consumed the second tower and it, too, collapsed. In silence, we took in the awful reality displayed on the television. My then-boss came through and tried to disband the crowd huddled around the television; he didn't want people to think his employees were slacking off. They disbanded alright, leaving the office to go pick up their kids from school. Work ceased to hold any meaning and we were all too focused on the blessing of American freedom that we thought would never be attacked...and what really matters in times like that are your family and friends...

From a prayer offering on September 13, 2001:

We pray today that from the ashes will rise a new spirit of beauty and unity in America. Already, all across this nation our hearts have been knit together into a new tapestry of one America. Because of this tragedy, we have been bound together by a silver chord of hope and brotherhood and sisterhood. What was meant to drive us apart has really drawn us together.

May we always remember.

Quick Takes Vol. 5

For those of you who forget what "Quick Takes" are, it's a web phenomenon started in the blogosphere to quickly and succinctly tell your readers seven things you did this week. Except that I'm rarely quick...or succinct!

Details, details!

1.) You know how some people work for the weekends? Well, I do, too. But it's not for the reasons you probably think. I still work most weekends (that's when the real work is done!) but what I truly love is the ability to sleep in past 6 a.m. and watch NOTRE DAME FOOTBALL. Tomorrow, we're taking on Michigan and even though we will not be in SB for the big day, we will be tailgating in Chicagoland. Because that's what ND fans do.

2.) Since I'm now officially back in grad school, homework must again be fit into my waking hours. I think I will revert back into my former grad school study habits...every Saturday morning from 9-12p.m. is automatically dedicated to study time. Homework may span into the afternoon times if not completed by the noon hour. What's even more funny is that I received my first assignment, eleven essay questions about the Ethical and Religious Directives (due Monday), before I even received my formal acceptance letter. That's a good sign...right? Cue the Diet Mountain Dew! With the ND game tomorrow, this starts next weekend. :)

3.) I survived budget season! I helped my managers prepare their individual department budgets, twelve in total, because several departments span between two hospital campuses. As the Director, I had to play both sides of the table when it was time to defend the budgets against Senior Leadership's attacks. They were vehement on several, demanding to see true contribution margins for the service lines. I can run this on a high level, but had to engage the services of my friendly neighborhood cost accountant to supply the nitty-gritty details.

4.) 1800 Contacts (we deliver...you save) is a wonderful company. In a total air-head maneuver, I re-ordered my contacts online and forgot to update my address. So they shipped to my old house. Remembering this when the contacts didn't show up at my new house, I ripped off a quick email to 1800 Contacts asking them what they could do about it. I received a seemingly heartfelt email in return, explaining that they were reshipping my order and including return labels just in case my original order turns up. And if I wouldn't mind, would I consider returning the extra box? It was so refreshing. After having to call AT&T and converse with an Indian gentleman who knew about eight English words apart from the customer service script and having an awful time trying to secure our Bon Jovi tickets from Stubhub, 1800 Contacts has my business forever. In fact, tell everyone you know. They rival Southwest Airlines for best service (in my book).

5.) Speaking of Southwest airlines, I have a strange ethical dilemma going on in my head. The Muppet system is sending me for my ethics degree. I realize this is a substantial cost savings for me, as my tuition was paid for by one of the head-honcho Sisters. I'm so very grateful for this; I've been wanting to resume work on this degree for ages. Yet, I have to fly to Philly and Phoenix for intensive case studies...do I have to pay for that? Or since Corporate is sending me, does that mean they pay for it? See, being an ethicist means you over think anything involving a choice that may include any hint of gray area.

6.) I love the fact that it's 70 outside with the nightime temps falling to 50. But the sinus headaches that come from air-conditioned-sinuses-that-are-no-longer-air-conditioned really stink.

7.) I have to help the Director of Education at St. Fozzie's buy twenty Mr. Potato Head dolls (toys?) for a Lean simulation. As we plan the two-day intensive Lean training at St. Fozzie's, we keep talking about Potato Heads. I haven't been through the training yet, but apparently, Potato Heads have quite the power in Motorola/Toyota circles! Anyway, you can buy Notre Dame Potato Heads. One of my colleagues from St. Piggy's, a devout Purdue fan, bet me that Notre Dame would lose in last weekend's football game. He said that if Purdue won, I'd have to keep a Purdue Potato Head in my office all year. I matched that, saying he'd have to keep a ND Potato Head in HIS office if ND won. We spoke twice today and instead of referring to the victory trophy as a "Notre Dame Potato Head," he started calling it the "Irish Potato Head." But that just conjures up images from the Irish Potato Famine and no one likes to celebrate that. My plan is to decorate a stock Potato Head with a bunch of ND paraphernalia and ship it to St. Piggy's while he's facilitating the class at St. Fozzie's!

8.) Jack just brought home a beverage called ChocoVino. It appears that my weekend is starting NOW.

Peace out. Have a good weekend and GO IRISH.

The Levels

Being the systematic, methodical (read: OCD) newbie administrator I am, I felt the need to create a ranking mechanism for my own exhaustion. Actually, it’s a ranking mechanism for my evenings.

There’s an underlying assumption that I will work 11-12 hours before even getting home. Let’s get that out into the open (just so you don’t judge me on the levels III or IV nights!).

Level I: Today was a great day! I am energized and motivated and I can continue working from home. I will come home, log onto my laptop, gobble my Lean Cuisine, and happily finish whatever project is occupying my attention that day. Maybe it’s a presentation, work on program development, or a growth plan. Whatever! Wahoo! I love my job! I may exercise if I make good head-way on my work.

Level II: Today was a decent day! I’m still energized and even though I gave it my all today, I’m tired. A quick workout at the gym will motivate me and after noshing on my fancy salad, I will fire up my laptop and answer emails. I’ll get caught up for tomorrow! Hurray, I’m glad I’m still one of those people who likes their jobs!

Level III: Today was a rough one. How do people do this for forty years? Hmm. How much do I need in my 403(b) and IRA before I can retire to the Bahamas? Oh well, I will just rest up tonight, skip the workout, heat up a microwave pizza, and watch Friends reruns on the DVD. Humor and carbohydrates help people cope, right?

Level IV: Today about killed me. Either meet me at the door with a glass of wine or take me to BW3’s for boneless wings.

Per my statistical analysis, I have a bell curve forming regarding my choice of Levels. 21% of the time, I’m a Level 1. 42% of the time, I fall in a Level II. 28% of the time, I’m a Level III. And 9% of the time, I’m a Level IV.

Just in case you're curious, tonight is a Level II!

Surprised

Oh, to be blogging again!

I was on a recent, AT&T-imposed internet fast. Self-imposed internet fasts are one thing, but when your third party internet provider has to rewire the neighborhood fiber optic, well, that's another.

So, so, so much has happened in the last week. All you need to know is that I really did survive the catastrophe and we shouldn't have to go to trial.

Anyway!

First things first. One of my blogger friends tagged me in the latest meme traveling around the blogosphere. The original intent of the meme was to encourage folks to look back over their lives and see how their attitudes have changed. It's a little narcissistic, but isn't narcissism the core of Facebook and other internet-based media!? I tried to keep mine from the "I rock" variety to the "still give me shivers when I think about it" kind.

And all of this is in addition to living apart from Jack for the one year, one month, and eight days. That takes the cake as the primo thing I did and it still surprises the hell outta me!

Ten Things I Did That Still Surprise the Hell Out of Me:

1. Lived in Ireland.

2. Dated a seminarian (that was before the Jack era).

3. Taught a class. A three hour class.

4. Finished my master's degree while working full time, with sanity hinging precipitously in the balance.

5. Sewed on a button when Jack lived in SB and my favorite dress pants were out of commission.

6. Had a snowball fight on the Indiana Toll Road with The Edge, when we got stuck for hours in a freak, 7-inch-an-hour lake-effect snowstorm. We were wearing fleece pullovers because we were traveling back from O'Hare (from Vegas).

7. Went "Jelly Fish Hopping" with Jack, on a day after a small tropical storm whipped up the waters around Florida and the beaches were littered with hundreds of jellyfish. We could have been stung. Hundreds of times. See pic above.

8. Slept in a train station in Wales. With homeless people. Yes, there are homeless people in Wales.

9. Fell out of a white-water raft while trying to navigate a the East Race Waterway with my dog-walker (an 8th grader) in the boat. I had to be towed to shore and she made it to the end of the run.

10.Finished this meme. Did you notice they got more embarrassing as the list progressed?!

Okay, I'm going back to work for the evening. Before I leave, I tag Therese, Lula, and Nurse Starbucks to complete similar lists!!

Dream Metaphor

So I had this psychedelic dream last night, that I survived what can only be described as Hollywood movie fodder.

And no, I didn't get to play Courteney Cox...although, if I had to cast this screenplay, I would pick Courteney for me and Keanu Reeves for Jack. As I examine my dreams, I always look for ties to my real life (what I will note in my parentheses). I believe that dreams are your mind's way of working out your current predicament.

Anyway, Jack and I were wandering around my old high school and school had recently dismissed for the summer. The gym locker room, emptied of people's belongings, had clumps of raw hamburger and meat refuse strewn about (this is from Jack and I reading Upton Sinclair's Jungle). The meat, in a matter of moments, went from fresh-from-your-local-meatcase to liquefied-gross-horror-movie props. Suddenly, maggots filled the available surface of the meat (from my poor patient with the maggot infestation). Nauseated by the maggot scene, Jack and I fled the school and ran into the parking lot (ah, sweet relief!).

The school bordered a busy highway (just like the interstate I drive every day). Almost directly above us, I spotted the horrific sight of a jetliner spinning, out of control, to the ground (Elvis' office is full of Lost paraphernalia). The plane wasn't going to hit us, but it was going to smash into the traffic on the road. But with the velocity and trajectory of the plane, I could tell it was going to throw a semi truck our way and flatten us. In the milliseconds after the plane hit the highway in a burst of flames and drove the semi toward the school, Jack and I simultaneously threw ourselves to the ground. The semi was hurled over our heads, missing us by mere inches. It was a move that Keanu would've been proud of in The Matrix.

Gazing upon the utter destruction on the highway, we found a group of scared and shocked-looking soccer moms in a Model T car (probably taken from the mob history I'm currently reading). The Model T had a joyjohn strapped to the back and that's where the moms put the kids so they would be safe from the chaos on the highway (I always see joyjohns in transport on the highway!). Except that Jack volunteered to sit back there so the kids and me could sit in the car.

Such chivalry!

I don't remember anything after that, but I do remember waking up feeling very relieved. I think that dream was my mind's way of making sense of my current chaos and despite the explosions, the maggots, and the near collisions, I survived. I survived the catastrophe!

On a totally unrelated note: St. Fozzie's has good lawyers. :0)