I came within a hair's breath of fainting in my boss's office today.

You see, when I arrived at work, I discovered that the air conditioner unit in my office was not working. I immediately emailed the operations manager and my boss, hoping it would be repaired right away, but knowing that was unlikely.

As the day wore on, my office grew warmer and I grew more worried. I suppose I should have gone hunting a new office, squatting where a staff member was out for the day. It is just that have so many cognitive aids at my desk and on my computer that I feel vulnerable sitting elsewhere. I was foolish.

In the mid afternoon, I found myself helping a colleague with his business plan. He wanted me to make it "pretty," my code for editing and formatting. I certainly welcome each opportunity to do so for it also affords me the opportunity to standardize our message, our format, our style. However, I was growing too warm, much too warm.

I sat there, beginning to tremble, hesitant to leave in the middle of the task because it wasn't that hot in the office. I would suppose about 75 degrees. What would it look like if I claimed the office was too warm for me? But then, just before I finished, I began to get the chills. The point of no return was upon me without really understanding how I got there.

I quickly finished my task just as my boss buzzed me to let me know that she was ready for my question from earlier in the day. So, I made my way to her office with some work to review. To my relief, she turned on her air conditioner not long after I sat down in her office. But as she began to review my work, it was all I could do to remain conscious.

I moved to the floor, because if I fainted, I did not want to fall out of the chair.

At one point, she told me to go home. I quipped that I couldn't just then, but I didn't really let her know how very close I was to fainting. I stayed, chatting nervously as my symptoms finally began to subside. Unfortunately, in doing so, I kept her from being able to do her work.

It probably would have been better, once I realized what was happening, if I had made my way to an empty office at that point. Sitting on her floor was distracting to her and to those who stopped by her office. But I couldn't have made it. Should I have called my boss and asked her to help me get there?

Unfortunately, heat exacerbates the symptoms of multiple sclerosis. The grace is that once you cool off, the symptoms subside. However, until that happens, the whole experience is quite frightening. I begin to tremble. I grow extremely weak. I become disoriented and confused, as if caught in a mental fog. And I can faint.

I did not communicate with my boss what was happening. I quipped. I brushed aside her questions. I ignored my own condition. I tried to mask the enormity of what was happening to me. And I sat in abject fear of fainting at work.

I do not want to be seen as a liability. I do not want to be a problem that must be solved. I want to be efficient, effective, productive... I thought it was not out of pride, but out of fear for my job. In the days of limiting liability, do I not represent a potential problem when a warm office causes me to spiral down into such danger?

But, wait...as I type this, I realized that though I prayed after realizing the air conditioner was broken and again at lunch, I did not trust God to protect me and trust my boss enough to ask for help more than the email I sent in the morning.

The world says to never expose your weaknesses...to never give them a reason to fire you...I do not live by the world, but by the Word of God. Yet, I did not do so today.

I lived by fear. I lived by my own conjecture and planning. And I didn't even trust someone who has been remarkably generous in her support of my work and of me.

Physically, I am fine. A few hours after the episode, I was able to drive home. But...mentally...I know that I made some very poor choices. And I find myself before God asking for forgiveness.

What have I learned?

For all that I have trusted Him day in and day out for more than half my life, I know little about trust. I pick and choose what I lay before Him. I pick and choose which parts of my life I walk in faith. Job security is not up to me. I believe that Christ has walked before me in providing my job and the opportunity to work with my boss. I believe. If, however, I believe, then I should know, without a doubt, that the days of my job are in His hands, not mine.

He knows I have MS. He knows what I have lost cognitively and how sensitive to heat I have become. He knows my needs. He knows.

Why do I not rest in that knowledge? Marvel in His grace and revel in His peace?

I have much to learn...

TOPIC: Do you believe in chance?

Before you get there, think to yourself how you define chance.

• What does chance mean to you?
• What role does chance play in your life?
• Do you have a lucky belt?
• Do you have a lucky anything?
• Do you consider yourself to be superstitious?

These are very important questions that affect our lives in very real ways.

Would you believe that the above is a bible study held by an evangelical church? No scripture, just ideas. Do we know the bible so well that we can abandon scripture for "hot" topics or best sellers?

I do not have a church home just now and have visited more churches than I care to admit. But something inside sinks quite low each time I learn the Sunday school class is studying a popular Christian self-help book or bible study series that more "life application" questions than biblical scholarship or theology. A friend recently told me that there is a church where the pastor's sermons consist of reading a chapter in The Purpose Driven Life.

I have studied the bible closely since I was fifteen. I have read it through from beginning to end ten times. Yet, I have only scratched the surface of this remarkable living text that God with which God has blessed us. I do not know it like I know the stories of Anne McCaffrey or Brock and Bode Thoene or Tom Clancy. I know the breadth and depth of them. I have delved beneath the surface to discover motifs and themes and marvel at their craftsmanship. I know these books.

But His word is too deep, a veritable mystery of love and life and wisdom. It sharpens me, chastises me, comforts me, sustains me, awes me. I read of His creation, His judgment, His salvation. I have read of the Fear of God, of obedience, of the narrow way. I have read of the rocky crag of the wild goat and a hundred men who could split a single hair with an arrow. I have read of friendship and betrayal, of love and war, of sacrifice and redemption. I have read of what was, what is, and what will be.

And still I know so little and understand less.

Can we really afford to abandon the scholarship of His holy word for popular books...in church...in Sunday school...in bible studies?

Measured expectations.

Have we lost sight of excellence? Do we no longer recognize mediocrity?

I am tired of settling. Settling for next week. Settling for late notice. Settling for making do.

"At least you have..."

"At least they did..."

"What else can you expect..."

Measured expectations.

It is nearly unbelievable
that my roses are thriving
in this sweltering heat.
The sun and warmth
that I find completely
enervating,
they find invigorating!
They are filling
with bright blooms
while I am wilting.
Still, I cannot help
but smile when I peer
out my window at them.
Such beauty
Such resilience
Such life...

Today could not have been more strange, more holy, more confusing.

I've been trying to find someone to replace three squares of sidewalk since last August. But no one is interested in such a small job. Believe me...I've tried. The contractors instead wanted to do the entire walkway and the handymen did not want the labor for such a small area.

I tried again and ended up spending over an hour in fellowship with another Christian. Before he left, he put his hand on my shoulder and prayed. Tears came to both our eyes for the love God has for His children. Me with MS. His wife just diagnosed. My lessons, his encouragement.

Buoyed by the exchange, I ventured outside to try and pop twelve small flower plants in waiting pots. But the heat was overwhelming. Literally so.

In mere moments, I was shaking and growing weak. Then I fainted and fell off the lower deck into the bushes.

I made my way inside and called my boss, ostensively to talk about visiting tomorrow, but really to connect with another person in my lingering confusion. But our conversation was a disturbing as the heat.

I couldn't reach my best friend. I wanted to talk.

Foolhardy without a doubt, I ventured out again near dusk to mow. I had to mow. Who else will do so? Setting the sprinkler, I returned inside to collapse on the kitchen floor and press my flushed face against the cool tiles. Strength finally returning, I downed some gatorade and gave Kashi a bath.

Then I retreated to the green chair, resigned to channel surfing while trying to take in my roller coaster day. But... alas...my friend called to play Scrabble. I began and ended the day in fellowship.

I am not alone.

Funny that I would write of choice.

Today, lines were drawn. Gantlets thrown.

Will people choice to pick them back up and journey together? Or will they allow them to lie between us all, marking the coming storm?

Change is a choice. I believe that quite strongly.

Change, however, can be elusive...fleeting...remarkable...subtle.

Change, unfortunately, can also not be a choice. In that case, then, one has to choose the change as a means of acceptance.

I am not who I was. Each day, oft each moment, this fact is driven home again and again.

Tears come, emotions rage...oft belying how I actually feel.

What do I feel? Trapped in a body that has betrayed me. Yet how can that be? Once we are born, we are all heading toward the time we will die. Some dance. Some run. Others stroll. We savor the journey. We resent the journey. We long for another. We hold ours dear.

I am no longer who I was ten years ago. Little is left of that mind. Of those dreams. Of that life.

How do I choose my life just now? How do I choose the vagaries of emotion, the pain, the weakness?

I have learned patience through disease. Disease has taught me trust. Yet. Yet. Yet. How do I choose this?

God chose this life for me. That should be sufficient.

How do I walk in that truth?

Someone from the office who had stayed late to finish some work after everyone else had gone asked me for a ride home. Caught in traffic created by a construction crew, all I wanted was to be home. My head was aching, I grew weak and clammy, and my stomach started churning.

There I was growing more ill by the moment and trying to keep up the light chatter with my co-worker.

I was feeling quite wretched. Why? Because I wore a blasted barrette today and it had slipped to that spot on the back of my head. I didn't connect the two until I was nearly to the metro station where I dropped my co-worker.

I nearly cried from relief when I snatched the barrette out of my hair just blocks from my house. I felt stupid and weak and weary that I had to get back to work once I arrived home.

If I shave my head, then I won't keep trying to pull my hair back and end up making myself ill. What a sight that would be!

Will I ever learn?

I have finished my writing for work and am going to bed. Now, if I can only arrange the pillows away from the back of my head and still get comfortable enough to sleep.

I just discovered, much to my dismay, that I have poison oak on my face.

I am sure it was from rubbing the back of my hand there while working in the yard a bit last night. Now, I can only wait to see how much it spreads and hope I don't have to take steroids to stop it.

Once I realized that the sore on my face was poison oak, I washed it with this special soap and put some Benedryl gel on it.

Did you know...that Benedryl gel has a numbing agent? I didn't.

How do I know now? Well, the poison oak patch is quite close to the corner of my mouth...need I say more?

It is a good thing that I am not slated to give a speech just now!

Selah.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.

~Philippians 4:4-9, NASB

Selah.


Six weeks ago I wrote about these verses and tonight I listened to a sermon on verse 8. Was it a reminder from God on what I should be thinking?


Selah.

Whew! I just finished working in the yard!

I am not sure my stepmother realized how much digging she was in for when she volunteered to help divide the hostas.

Those hostas were rescued by a friend of mine. The previous owner had poured stuff on them to kill them which failed. So he finally dug them up and left them at the curb. She brought over eight of them in plastic grocery bags two years ago. I thought they were in soil, so I kept them watered, but waited three weeks to plant them because I was quite busy. When I finally popped them in the ground, I was dismayed to realize they had no soil around their roots.

Well, these are a hearty lot, because the original 8 are now 17 in my yard and more than a dozen (I'd hazard to guess) in my parent's yard.

I was wheezing my way through the work even with my stepmother digging. Still, with the weeding she threw in, the yard looks better for her visit.

And...of course...two transplanted Texans took the opportunity to go eat what passes for Mexican food up here. She always is quite generous about letting me pack up the leftovers. I had dinner and will have lunch and dinner once more off our lunch meal.

It was a good day today!

Two days!

Two whole days I have managed to rest!

Yesterday and today, I slept late, lounged on the desk, played ball with my dog, read four novels, listened to six sermons, studied the bible, and watched four movies.

I would prefer another day of rest, but my stepmother volunteered to come over tomorrow to separate the hostas. They have grown so large that they no longer fit in the beds. She is going to take a few for herself, and I plan on putting a row of them on the other side of the back fence to spruce up the alley way.

While resting more would be ideal, I feel I shouldn't pass up the opportunity for someone else to dig holes for me!

ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!

I am SOOOOO very tired of people fooling around instead of working. Sending dozens of chatty emails, spending hours chatting live, doing school work, doing personal business work, and "visiting!"

Now, I have checked my hotmail account at work. And I do tend to "break" at in my bosses office, resting a bit from my work. But I know that I am working hard all day (and often evening and weekend) long. I work at both productivity and efficiency in all that I do.

If you are going to not work, then why be here? Why hang out in the kitchen, the conference rooms, and each other's desks, instead of working? Why hang out in common areas chatting away and disrupting others who are working?

A common theme at work: While the cat's away, the mice do play.

This is the single greatest difference from being a professor to being in the business world. In education, we were all cats...or mice... there was no playing around while a boss is gone. Is that because we were all "bosses" or because we took greater ownership of our jobs?

What do you do when you don't want to "play," when you want to honor your job, not degrade it?

Not joining in oft results in ostracization. How crazy is that?

Double ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Am I ignoring the log in my eye for the specks before me? Am I a pot calling the kettle black? I wish I knew, for I cannot believe at times how callously and carelessly people approach their jobs. Am I being too harsh? I wish I knew...

I wish I knew...

I watched someone facilitate a discussion today.

In my frank opinion, I truly believe that I could have done a far better job. Primarily, this is because on four separate occasions, the facilitator interrupted the participants. They were talking, engaged in the conversation, only to have their interaction broken off by a question that was being answered at the time or had already been answered.

The professor part of me watched in fascination, wanting to step in, and direct the conversation. I also reveled in the memory of the classes that ran over because my students were so engaged in the lesson topic, they wanted to finish the discussion. Of course, there were those times I had to pull it out of them...but even those were good times. Good because I enjoyed the challenge of bridging gaps and creating moments of clarity to make the connections necessary for understanding. I was also good at using one person's comment to illuminate or connect that of another, so the conversation centered not around my facilitation but on the topic itself.

There I was, thinking I could do this. I could do this better. And then it hit me. But I don't.

I am not very successful at leading discussions at work. Why?

I fear that the answer lies with me. I fear the answer is because I am so very thoroughly cowed by my colleagues. I become so lost in my interior dialogue of past remarks and battles with them, that I have little confidence left in my own voice. The frustrating part is that I know, really know, most of the time that what I would like to say is worthy of discussion.

How can I transfer who I was as a professor to who I am in management meetings?



Life was MUCH easier without the introspection that colors me so these days...

I realized today that for the first time, I am in a job that never ends...

That is to say, there will rarely be a great stopping point each day...at least for now.

I just arrived home. I have to learn to leave work...to just leave.

I have always worked hard. But I have always been able to manage what I do in a reasonable time frame. Now, there is so much to do, so much that should already have been done, so much than I am doing currently...that I will never finish. And I am beginning to wonder if working late does more harm than good...for me...for my job...

In any case, I have to sit and think a while...get my mind around this realization and how it might inform the choices I have been making for the last few months.

Selah

I have discovered another "plus" regarding the flooding:

In the basement, in front of the settee, there was a dusky rose colored oriental rug. While it certainly soaked up plenty of water and helped keep things from being wetter than they already were, I have never really liked it there.

My friend used the wet/dry vacuum on it with great results. We carried it out to the deck to finish drying...and left it for a few days.

Well, I was in the process of carrying it in when the phone rang. I dropped the rug on the kitchen floor and raced to grab the phone. When I returned to the kitchen, I was rather shocked to discover how very good the rug looks with the cabinets and the wallpaper and the appliances! The rug is also thicker, so I am more comfortable while standing before the sink and doing dishes. Two pluses, I'm sure.

I decided to replace the kitchen rug with the basement one. Now, I do NOT like the kitchen oriental rug in the basement, but given that I am in the kitchen every day and the basement but just once a week or so, I am sticking with the change.

I am humbled by the lovingkindness of my friend.

This weekend, my three-day retreat for her and her husband was by no means peaceful. Flooding, delayed trains, closed venues, and fatigue so great that the wee one was quite distraught by Sunday afternoon. That I overcooked the steak was nearly cruel.

I was so incredibly disappointed that the haven I had desired to give to them was more something to be endured than enjoyed. 'Twas to be a weekend of movies and games and peace and rest. It was exhausting and disappointing...because it wasn't what I planned. After all, it was now the second time that my friend's husband had gone to Mount Vernon and not gotten to walk the grounds. Well...he was on them for all of two minutes...and then waiting at the exit when we were separated because our tickets were apparently good for only 11 minutes!

I had plans. Good ones. Peaceful ones. Restful ones. Enjoyable ones.

My plans did NOT include fatigue and disappointment.

Yet, the gift of this weekend I had nearly overlooked in my own frustration was how very kind my friend is to me. She knew. I really thought I was hiding it. She knew how I was feeling. So even though she was packing, her daughter was fussing, and her husband was most likely dreading the long drive home (long does not even begin to describe the late night construction delays), she popped in a movie.

I was fighting a losing battle with the computer in a futile attempt to burn a CD with all our photos from the weekend (tonight I was able to get it done in just a couple of minutes) and her daughter was wiggling and fussing, and her husband was finishing the packing, when she put in I, Robot.

Our signature movie is Independence Day. We've watched it dozens of times. But I, Robot may soon be a staid second. Of course, even after the movie was done, my friend put in Independence Day as they were loading the car.

I almost missed it. I was so angry at the computer and my own shattered dreams of weekend retreat, I almost missed what she was doing.

She knew how I was feeling and let me know that nothing else really mattered. Through it all, we got to spend the weekend together.

I had a rotten day at work today...I came home in tears. In my brokenness I suddenly thought back to yesterday and the kindness of a true friend.

Hours later, the tears are gone. The weekend is over and the week beginning. I am tired already.

But God has reminded me that I am loved...and my soul knows it very well...

My friend, her daughter, and her husband are napping right now.

I had a hard time sleeping with my finger, so even though I smelled something cooking downstairs a few hours ago, I rolled over and slept some more, trying to ignore the consequence of hours of labor without my medicine. I also had had to get up in the middle of the night to use the nebulizer because I had also forgotten to take my asthma medicine yesterday. Altogether, I was quite tired.

Still, at 9:30, when I would have preferred to sleep a few hours more, I dragged myself out of bed to join my friend and her family.

They are napping.

Funny, for once the silence in my house makes me smile instead of feeling lonesome. My guests are resting, peaceful, enjoying their accommodations. My best friend is here and will rise eventually to play games, watch movies, visit Mount Vernon, and grill dinner on my tiny hibachi.

Last night, while we were waiting for her husband's train to come in (it was two hours late), we went shopping. Still reeling from the basement flooding, I threw many "treats" into the cart. One of which was a new DVD player.

I had bought one two and a half years ago. For about two years, I have had to stop and clean the lens reader every two or three movies, sometimes twice in a movie. The DVDs would stop, get stuck, read the wrong parts, randomly turn on subtitles...etc. Using it was a chore, but I couldn't see spending money again even though battling the thing when people came over was even more onerous than usual.

So, last night I plunked down money on a new one. Of course, it has progressive scan, so I am feeling quite confident my days of forcing a DVD player to work are over.

I asked my friend if she would install it. I did so, because one of the things I love and admire best about her is her curiosity. We have the same cell phone and she is probably acquainted with ALL of its features, while I basically just make calls. When we see something she is curious about, she will jump on the internet and discover the answer. She actually reads directions to things, too. A marvel, eh?

Well, in VERY short order, she not only had the DVD hooked up, but she had found the instruction book for my universal remote and programmed in the new DVD player. I won't mention how very LONG it took me to do the same when I first got the player and then again when I got the universal remote.

When we watched the movie, not once did I have to force the player to continue. A good ending to a rather trying day...

They are up now. I am sure that this day will be far better than yesterday!

This day, this visit, is not going the way I had wished.

My best friend is here with her baby girl. They arrived yesterday afternoon, joining me at work first so that I could have her meet my boss. Traveling home from work together hit a snag because there was an accident when we were just a mile from home that added at least 30 minutes to the commute.

We then went to the store because I had not managed to do so before her arrival. [To my chagrin, I also had not managed to clean the bird cage, wash the dog, vacuum, dust, clean the bathrooms, or otherwise prepare for her visit.

We raced home from the store to speed feed her daughter and get her down in time to watch the season finale of CSI. We played a few games, watched a movie, and staggered off to bed because it was so late and we had the whole next day to play games, watch movies, and go out for a bit. One goal was to turn in the paperwork for my passport for our trip next fall. Her husband was to come the next evening and we would all spend the weekend together.

A great plan, eh?

Well, it rained. And rained. And rained.

And the basement flooded.

For hours and hours, I mopped and squeezed water in the bucket, the two gallon bucket that was filled six times. I put down every possible towel and even my queen-sized chenille blanket to stay ahead of the water. You know how laminate floors are supposed to "float" on the surface? Well, mine literally is floating on water down there. Every step squished out more water between the cracks. When all is said and done, the floor will be ruined.

My dearest friend did not complain once, even though it was extremely difficult for me not to spiral into despair at the situation. She was encouraging and helpful and pitched in to help rather unselfishly given that through all this we had a nine-month old baby girl who still needed to be fed and held and played with and put down for a nap.

When I moved here, I bought a wet/dry vacuum because of all the construction. The workers, in and out of my house at the time, had told me to get rid of the foam insert and use a pleated filter to better capture the sawdust. Well, you need the foam insert to use the "wet" function of the wet/dry vacuum. I had tried to use it before with disastrous results, i.e., water squirting everywhere when I was trying to clean up from the sewage pipe backing up.

My very dear friend, found the instructions, discovered the part I needed, went to Lowe's by herself, and brought it back home to "fix" the wet/dry vacuum. We were near the end of mopping as the rain had ceased and the groundwater flow into my basement had slowed (oh that the thing had been fixed hours earlier).

Ever the helpful friend, she challenged me to find the good in the situation:

• the wet/dry vacuum now works properly both ways
• I got the opportunity to throw out some things that I was not sure about keeping
• the closet was cleaned out
• I was not alone when all this happened

Still, I forgot to take my arthritis medicine, so while my back is already hurting, I know tomorrow will be worse. And...I burned my finger while preparing a late night dinner of sorts, so sleeping will be a bit hard since any moment it is off a piece of ice is rather painful.

Still...she is here. Her baby girl smiles at me. What more could I want?

Kashi seems to be doing better, as am I. I am trying to remain hopeful that the vertebrae problem is old and something he's compensated for which is why the doctor said he appears to show no clinical presentation of the problem.

Today at work, I spent the day working to catch up on what I missed yesterday and to design the postcard announcements for our next event.

It may sound weird, but the developer was particularly proud of the tile floor in the lobby, so I took a photo of it earlier thinking I might use it some time. It came in handy as a background for the design. I wish I could have done with the photo arrangement, but the tile as a background looked great...in my opinion.

The only part I really struggle with is the fact that I am not a designer and that were we able to afford one, our postcards could be so much better.

At the end of the day, I had been trying to leave for half an hour when my phone rang. It was a direct dial, which few people use, so I answered it...but I half yelled into the phone that I was not there.

It was my boss. Foot-in-mouth time, eh?

Never will I be able to rise above my innate clumsiness to exhibit even a modicum of class...

I did spend a while on my deck in peaceful quiet.

Did I mention that it was DONE!

[Except for the two foot section of one slat I overlooked and plan on addressing soon...]

Kashi became ill Friday night and so we spent half the night in the Animal ER. We were sent home with some medicine and no real answers, so after I slept a bit, I called his vet. The ER vet could not really examine him because he was squealing in pain and snapping at him. His regular vet is quite good with him and was able to determine that it was his left flank that was leaving him trembling and whimpering in pain.

He wasn't the only one crying...

She took x-rays and discovered that in addition to some irritation in two spots on his bowels, he has two vertebrae compressed together just before his pelvis. What is not clear is if it is an older injury that he has just lived with somehow or if that was the point of pain.

So after another five hours, we went home with more medicine and a "let's keep an eye on him."

He seems to be doing better.

I, on the other hand, had a hard day. I went to bed early both Saturday and Sunday and should have been plenty rested. But on the way to work today, I started feeling quite horrible. Quite horrible.

I was trembling and clammy and nauseous and weak. The longer I drove, the more I realized that I should not have been driving and needed to go back home.

Nearly the whole day I felt horrible.

Nearly the whole day I fielded calls from work and tried to sound less horrible.

Around 5:00, I went outside for a while and puttered with some flowers I had bought on Sunday. Given the rather severe allergic reactions I've had lately, it was a bit of a risk being, but I wanted to keep an eye on Kashi.

I finally felt better around 7:00, though I was still fielding calls from work.

My best friend distracted me some with Scrabble and listened to me moan and groan without much comment. It was nice to have some company whilst feeling ill even though it was long distance company.

I, for one, am glad this day is over and hope that tomorrow fairs better.

Yesterday my hands and feet were tingling all day, as was my vision blurring. I spent the morning working with someone on a new piece of collateral. As we worked, I began to feel quite ill. I got this sick sort of headache, I started trembling, and my stomach began churning.

My colleague noticed that something was wrong and after her query as to the cause, I realized that my barrette was on that spot on my head. She suggested that we go to the bathroom together and take it out.

But when she looked at me, expecting me to rise and join her, all I could do is just sit there. I couldn't understand her. I was too confused. I couldn't understand that even though I told her why I was growing ill, that she wanted me to remove the barrette. I mumbled something about needing to stay where I was.

We finished our project and she eventually left, while I remained at my desk feeling worse and worse. Finally, I made my way to the bathroom where I threw up. It was only then that I realized she didn't mean for me to change my hairstyle but to remove the cause of my illness.

I moved the barrette and began to recover.

While I still am puzzled that a pressure upon a certain spot at the back of my head can make me ill, I am concerned that this was the first time the illness was coupled with confusion.

I am wearing my hair down today...

I had great excitement in my life tonight.

There I was, moving the brush back and forth, back and forth, wishing I were finished with the deck when all of the sudden, there was a huge "boom" from what I discovered was a rather large explosion in front of my house!

The noise startled me so much that I spilled some of the stain on the deck. My first thought was that my new car had been hit (even after a year I worry about the thing). My second thought was that I had to spread out what I spilled so that it would spot before I could race around to the front of the house. While I was spreading the spilled stain out, I first was comforted by the fact that if something happened to my car, the alarm would be sounding. But then I realized if that loud of a noise was something hitting my car, the alarm would probably be destroyed.

Finally, stain dripping down my arm as I held the brush aloft, I ran to the front yard to check on my car.

My car was safe.

However, the noise had been an explosion!

There was this heavy duty truck (like a trash truck but not one of those) that had exploded in the middle of the street in front of my house (I am glad I usually park across the street)! Smoke was billowing upwards, flames licking up from underneath, and the driver waving his arms in despair by the side of the road.

Two fire trucks and a two truck later, the excitement was gone.

My car was still safe.

I finished the deck and was quite pleased with myself until about an hour ago.

I let Kashi outside to conduct his business and realized that the deck is STILL WET! It is too humid now, even though when I started it was pleasant and breezy and the first coat dried right away.

If it rains, I will be stuck with a colossal mess for a deck...much heartache...and exhausting labor to restore it.

I am thinking dry thoughts.

"You have lipstick on your tooth."

Were I to ask you how you know that you are supported at work, would the statement above come to mind?

Today, we had some pretty important visitors to one of our properties. I arrived first, and took the opportunity to shoot some photos of the buildings. [Always I am thinking of the web site!] The president and the chairman of our board arrived next. The visitors were late in arriving, so the two of them took the opportunity to discuss the thousand and one pressing matters before our organization just now. But once the chairman stepped aside to take a phone call, the president came over to chat with me. A few moments into the conversation, he casually pointed out that I had lipstick on my teeth and kept on talking. I rubbed my finger across my teeth, and when he finished what he had been saying, he said that I had got it and then went on to talk about something else with work.

For a few moments, I found it difficult to follow the conversation. I've only known him for a few weeks and he's our new CEO, yet he didn't let me go greet those federal visitors with lipstick on my teeth. And he let me know in such a way that held no embarrassment for me. A quiet, nonchalant comment.

Now if that is not support...what is?

It was a sweet moment...and a good day.

Alas, this weekend was filled with sunshine...so I worked on the deck and worked on the deck and worked on the deck.

Yesterday, it took me eight hours to clean both the upper and lower decks. Eight grueling hours of spraying and scrubbing, and scrubbing and spraying. Today, after visiting with my folks, I started staining. Finishing after dark, I completed the lower deck and the stairs down from the upper deck tonight.

It took me four and half hours to do that work, yet somehow I have to squeeze in the upper deck after work Monday and Tuesday because it is supposed to be rainy for the rest of the week through the weekend. Even if I leave on time, I am left with just about one and a half hours of daylight. Do the math.

Of course, if I were some strange sort of morning bird, I could work on it before and after work. But I am the quintessential night owl. My best sleeping time is from 7 am to noon. Getting to work is a challenge. Rising early to work on the deck is next to impossible!

While I was at my father's house, I spent some time walking around his property. My stepmother is a genius in the yard. She is currently working on a flagstone walkway from the driveway to the back yard. The walkway is lined with blooming azaleas. She also has several bird feeders. Most of hers are one poles with squirrel baffles. I definitely would like one of those because I feed the local squirrels as much as I do the birds. She also has a nesting box in the back yard. We peeked inside to see the babies. One stuck his head up, beak open wide as if he expected me to pop in a worm. He was so incredibly tiny, probably about the size of my thumb. Before I left, I saw her new feeder covered with yellow finches. I've yet to lure those to my back yard, so I was a bit jealous. It was so peaceful in their backyard, wind rustling through the leaves, the flowers blooming...

God truly is a master craftsman...snowy winters, blooming springs, green summers, fall foliage...I am thankful for the eyes to see such beauty...

I am so tired that I actually started to nod off while driving home. That was the second time this week I nearly fell asleep at the wheel.

I need somehow to get myself out the door at a decent time at work...

This evening, though, I was so productive between five and eight, knocking off all sorts of small items that needed addressing. How could I leave when I was able to clear my desk of half of the sticky note reminders I've been leaving to try and remember all that had been shoved aside to get the web site finished.

And, of course, I treated myself to some organization. I concentrated on the binder for the new web site. I found myself lingering a bit over those beautiful pages I slipped into the top-loading sheet protectors. The contract. The payments. The design sign-off. The content inventory chart. The text. All orderly. All there. It is DONE.

I plan to sleep and sleep tonight and long into tomorrow.

I am hoping it will rain so that I am forced to put off cleaning and then sealing the deck. If not, then I will feel quite obligated to go slave away out there.

I was confronted with a question today that made me realize I need to grow up a bit. Yes, work has been stressful. Yes, other people have made poor decisions that have ramifications that affect my job. All this and what I've written before are still true. However, I need to still reconsider how I view my world and work at my job.

At what point do you stop thinking about your own area, your own issues, and think about the company as a whole?

Not what is good for you, but what is good for us?

How do you balance your own responsibilities and agenda with also supporting the company bottom line?

Your area wins an award and is it your award or ours?

You want to promote yourself, but is it better to promote the company? Better for all... and thus better for you?


I have so very much to think about...

Have you ever stood by and watched someone throw his/her life away?

Standing from miles and miles and years and years away...

My niece is twenty and intelligent and introspective and beautiful and talented. She's been that way since she was quite young. Yet she chose to throw her life away. Again and again and again.

She chose to leave high school. She chose to leave home. She chose alcohol. She chose drugs. She chose theft.

She has a family standing around her wanting to help. Watching. Wondering how far she will fall. Wondering if this time she will cross that line, that line of no return.

She's faced hurt. She's faced disappointment. She's faced rejection.

And over and over again, she's wrapped herself in hurt and disappointment and rejection and deafened herself to the call of those who love her.

I learned this morning, as an afterthought, that she was arrested.

She could sing with professionals. She could write circles around authors. She has vision and she has voice.

Yet she chooses to throw it all away.

And all we can do is watch until she chooses to keep her life.

Do you believe that with a stroke of a pen you can change your life? I mean beyond the literal...a job, a marriage, etc.

I've been wondering about that. I find that I have chosen the present over the future. While the benefits of that choice will make life easier, I am not easy in the decision.

With a stroke of a pen.

Of course, the new website was essentially finished on Friday and I went home and slept fifteen hours straight...only to another twelve the next night.

Is my discomfort from fatigue?

Every day we make choices. Choices piled upon choices. Consequences piled upon consequences.

With MS, I should be ever more vigilant securing the future because that future may very well be not what I would hope it to be...yet I chose the present.

What remains is the choices I will make from this day forward...

Of course, what is most important these days?

I AM DONE! I AM DONE! I AM DONE!

I won the bet on finishing the web site. However, one knight in shining armor rose to slay a dragon laying between myself and the land of milk and honey, so I am inclined to pass my meal off to him.

I am not going to say that I had a horrible day.

I am not going to say that it was sheer will power that kept me there.

I am not going to say that I see no hope in a situation where both VP's see no value in my work or my expertise. Where I in a position where I could do my work apart from them it would be different...

I am not going to say I feel trapped.



Kashi and I took a long walk when I got home. He was thrilled to have an opportunity to establish his territory once again. Walking with him makes me chuckle because I live in a neighborhood of huge dogs that go crazy when my small dog and I walk by. They bark and yelp and push against their fences, while Kashi prefers the silent response...another mark.

When we came home, Fancy and Madison hung out on my head for a while, talking away. She is soooooo ready to mate while he is taking his time. All Fall I had to work to stop them mating so she wouldn't hurt herself constantly laying eggs. I guess I shouldn't have been so successful. Last Spring, he was wooing her, singing and preening. Now he's content to just nibble on the millet instead of her crest feathers.

I am ready for Friday.

I had a very surreal moment today...

In the morning, I sort of circumvented someone who had been dragging his feet. Just a few moments later, the president called me in to talk.

GULP.

If you ever want to give me a heart attack, just say, "Patricia, will you come here for a moment? I need to talk with you."

I would IMMEDIATELY start sorting through all my actions, trying to discover what I might have done wrong.

How's that for low self-esteem?

Sheer panic overwhelms me and if, perhaps, you asked to see me at a later time, then I literally end up making myself ill. A small flaw of mine.

In any case, I did feel slightly guilty about my morning maneuver and entered his office with a bit of fear and trembling.

At first, I was relieved when he handed me an article to read. But then I realized he was asking me to prepare a statement for the press. You know, one of those two sentence ones.

And then it happened...I found myself brainstorming aloud and heard him say that my idea was exactly the position he wished for us to take on the matter.

Wow.

The thing that made it difficult for me to keep from laughing out loud was the thought that all of those years of watching The West Wing have finally paid off. For that one moment, it was as if I standing next to CJ, brainstorming with her.

What an unbelievable moment...

I should end with how the day began.

When I was getting ready, I realized that I lost my shoes. I live in a small duplex. There is NO WAY to lose my shoes. Yet, they are not in my closet. They are not beneath my desk. They are not beneath my coffee table. I wore them Wednesday and then they vanished.

A veritable mystery.

How was your day?

I just finished working tonight. I left the office around 7:00 and came home. I had dinner and then jumped back onto our server, trying to finish the prep work for our new website.

I then cleaned out my inbox, 128 messages to sort and flag for follow-up. A couple of weeks ago, I spent a whole weekend going through over 1400 messages in there and vowed to stay ahead of them. Mostly because I found a few things that were long overdue for attention.

Tonight I found a few more...or rather realized how many things are needing attention when I am trying to block out everything but the website.

I keep thinking that I just get through the website and our new batch of collateral, that I will find breathing room and stop this working at night and on the weekend...but am I fooling myself?

In between dinner and working again, I took a few minutes to play catch with Kashi in the back yard. I keep trying to take a mini-movie of him doing so with my digital camera, but he hates the thing. He was so torn between trembling in fear and chasing the ball. What a wimp I have for a dog!

He always manages to bring smile, though. I am grateful for dogs!

Last night I whacked on my hair again. [I have to stop cutting my hair when I am stressed.] I didn't cut the back, but I did the front. I think I like the look better.

You would have thought I dreamed of barber poles, but I didn't. I dreamed I was sorting through photographs for the website.

Oh, that it were May 1st already. I am so READY to have this project behind me!

365 days ago I started my new job.

After waiting nearly six years, I finally found a job outside education where my degree is seen as an asset, my skills in literacy and organization are valued, and I have a voice.

I found a job where it is an honor to work because of the population we serve. I found a job where I have a boss with whom I am honored to work.

365 days ago I started my new job.

It has been an extraordinary year for me. I have been challenged as a writer and given the opportunity to learn from someone I truly admire as a professional. I have experienced life in a non-profit and been introduced to the housing industry.

Being challenged as a writer was clearly the bonus. For a while, I was writing from bullet points on topics I didn’t quite understand. I was pushed to clearly communicate a vision and a mission in an industry that was foreign to me. I reveled in the challenge and was eager to learn the language of affordable housing.

Then, it dawned on me one day that the editing that my boss was doing was another area in which I could learn as a writer. I have worked with other writers and am fairly adept at editing their work. Half of me, as a writer, enjoys editing as much as composing. After all, someone else gets to do the hard part while I am left with the polishing. But editing is not just spit-and-shine. Good editing is teaching about the craft.

That is what my boss does.

However, in honest reflection, I have come to depend on her editing skills in the face of the sheer volume of work yet to be done. I have thus moved out of the “expert” role as communications manager and moved into the dependent student. That I do not like. In part because I want to do my best at work and I know that I am both qualified and capable of much more than I am currently doing. And… in part because I know she has far too much on her plate.

But this year has also been a great strain. I have been yelled at on more than one occasion. I have been pressured to change my political beliefs, part in jest and part in earnest, all while communicating that these people hold no respect for my beliefs when I, in turn, have never belittled or mocked theirs. I have been threatened with my job and then had the episode ignored as if it never happened by the person who did. My integrity and motives have been questioned and disparaged. I have been ignored and marginalized by members of senior management when the work I am doing is not about putting myself forward but about putting the company forward. But that does not seem to matter…

One of the people I admire most at work for the shear commitment this person has had to the company likens our work as an abusive relationship. When it is good, it is good. When it is bad, it is very bad. Time and time and time again, people let things go, work at the last minute, and disregard the cost to the company and to those around them. People in senior management say one thing and do another. Problems fester. People work on their homework or other jobs or even games during the work day. They disrespect company policies and lie about their timesheets. And all the talk of being a team player I’ve come to believe is just a euphemism for letting yourself be taken advantage of by others, for pouring yourself out with no respite or refreshment, for abandoning standards and settling for mediocrity.

We cannot all be as organized as you…An excuse for poor planning…and a slam against mine?

I have worked and worked to try and win over those who have rejected the efforts I’m trying to make on behalf of the company just because I am the one making them. I have bribed with food and favors. I have listened to rants and raves and kept silent when I would have rather spoken. I have set aside my true self in trying to be someone who is more pleasing in order to persuade them to participate in working toward better communications in our company. I beg, plead, and cajole to get my job done. Does this make me a good manager? Is this success?

Is this the way it would be everywhere?

Believe me, the world of higher education had its pitfalls, as much as I miss teaching I do not miss ineffectual, political faculty meetings, being given too many advisees to do them any true good, and watching other researchers falsify or manipulate findings to achieve their purposes. And jealousy and catfights certainly were not foreign territory. But all in all, it just didn’t seem so ethically void and egocentric as this world of business seems to be.

I wonder, when all is said and done, if working at this job is a good thing. I wonder if I am better off working there. I wonder if the company is better off. I wonder if my boss is better off…for while I certainly have accomplished loads and loads, I have leaned upon her enormously and rather selfishly to survive the harsh words and frustrations…but what have I given her?

I am angry too often. I weep too often. I have forgotten to pray too often. I am so stressed that my face looks like I am back in high school and I often miss my periods. I am tired beyond belief and worry what toll this job is taking given the MS. I often find myself dreaming about work and not being able to solve problems or accomplish anything. I have snapped at my boss a few times when all I want to do is be a help to her. And I am a walking, bumbling idiot with the new president when he is handing me a cake on a silver platter... because somewhere along the way this past year I have lost my voice, I have lost my confidence, I have lost me.

Selah.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.

~Philippians 4:4-9, NASB

Selah.

May I learn to rejoice more from 9:00 to 6:00. May I learn to be a gentle spirit to those around me. May I lay my anxiousness and requests before the Author and Perfector of my Faith, Jesus Christ, so that I may bring His peace to work with me. May I remember Truth. May I seek excellence. May I know loveliness. May I be a better witness for you at work.

Help me to set aside my self. Help me to relinquish my hurts and my frustrations. Help me to be a better manager, a better employee, a better example. Help me to humbly face the tasks before me…for I have much to learn.

Thank you, Lord, for this time to learn. Thank you, Lord, for the example of my boss. Thank you, Lord, for the gentle admonishment and constant encouragement of my friend. Thank you, Lord, for your Word that comforts and guides and sharpens me.

365 days ago I started my new job.

What will the next 365 days bring?

I slept from 9:00 last night until 11:00 this morning, only waking up once to hobble to the bathroom and call my boss to say I was staying home.

This morning, I was even more stiff than yesterday. It really worried me.

My best friend and I played a game of Scrabble (I lost.), and then I went outside and planted the pansies my father and I bought while at Wal-Mart. I really enjoy having the pots on my deck filled with flowers. It only took about an hour and I realized that I was moving better. So I set out the sprinkler and came back inside to rest some more.

I watched one of my favorite movies, The Shipping News, and played two more Scrabble games (I won). I like the movie for several reasons, but mostly because it is about a man who finds himself despite some pretty difficult circumstances. I also like to make up headlines about my life the way he does. And, of course, his new job is as a writer. It is a tough movie, though…

I also took Kashi for a walk, though I felt a little funny hobbling down the road. I sort of look like I spent too long in the saddle or something.

Unfortunately, my seasonal allergies have kicked in from being outside. So here I sit, sniffling, moaning, and typing. A stellar evening, eh?

I need to work on being thankful.

I am thankful for my friend, for Scrabble, for Kashi, and for sick leave. And I am thankful for an evening of working on my novel.

How’s that?

Dad and I went for breakfast and Wal-Mart today. He had brought over the pressure washer so that we could work on the deck, but I am so stiff and sore that I suggested we watch a movie instead.

Given how hot it is outside, Dad agreed.

We watched Sneakers, a find from the $5.50 DVD bin from a while ago. I moaned and groaned on the couch while Dad stretched out in the green chair.

I really enjoyed seeing the movie with him because it is a smart caper I knew we would both like, but I am worried about why I still feel so bad. I am both sore and achy, as if I have a combination of flu and the aftermath of a marathon. My legs and back and ankles are quite stiff.

I am still popping Motrin. And stretching. And Resting. I hope tomorrow is better.

I worked in the yard for five hours today.

I rolled out of bed and let my dog outside to do his business. While waiting for him, I started weeding and from there moved some plants around and worked on the natural stone boarder for the largest bed. In addition to adding some stones to make it more substantial, I scooted along the entire length of it to move the bits of grass seed that had popped up from the flower bed back into the yard.

Five hours later, I realized that I was shaking and went inside to finally have breakfast.

I really enjoy working in the yard, but the problem was that not only did I forget to eat, but I forgot to take my medicine, most particularly that for arthritis.

Hour by hour this evening I have felt worse and worse. I took some Motrin to help compensate, but still ended up feeling pretty bad.

I am worried because I am surprised at how horrible I am feeling. Last weekend I worked in the yard as well. I was tired at the end of the day, but not in pain.

Could this be just because I forgot to take the Celebrex?

I watched one of those Lifetime Movies for Women today. I was channel surfing and found myself coming back to the movie over and over again. Reluctantly I watched.

I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to take that particular walk down memory lane. The move? Odd Girl Out. I remember those days. I didn’t have friends who turned on me. I didn’t have friends. I had one…my senior year. I spent four years living on the fringe, ostrasized for reasons I mostly didn’t understand.

One scene had her crouched on a toilet while girls stood outside the stall and taunted her with cruel remarks. I spent many a PE period one year crouched on a bench in the changing area, curtain drawn in the stall. I still remember those taunts. “Who does she think she is?”

For me, there were no happy endings. Several of the posse ended up at my college my junior year. In one week, I was reduced to “that” girl again.

One day I was in the Student Union with a “Big Man On Campus” who happened to have come from my high school. We had been attending the same bible study and were talking about the week’s lesson. One of those girls from high school flounced over and stood directly in front of him and asked him why he was talking with me. Her voice held such disdain mingled with disbelief. Two years out of high school I was still worth nothing in her and her cohorts eyes.

I will never forget how I felt at that moment, having thought I escaped high school and found myself right back there.

When I logged on to my computer at work this morning, I had an email that truly raised my ire. Often we end up in these grand conversations via email with half information or people getting upset or emotional over something that is not.

But there I was growing angry because someone emailed me about something and copied the new president and made it sound as if I had forgotten or neglected something when in fact I had had no response from his department on the matter.

I was angry because it was yet another time of half information. I was angry because I had to work when talking with the new president and explaining why something wasn’t done or was yet to be done at not talking about how this person has dragged so much out. I had worked to be positive and this seemed negative to me.

At the time, I was still on the phone with my best friend because we commute together via Sprint PCS…or rather she commutes with me and I get to listen to her getting her and her child ready for the day while we chat.

Anyhow, in the midst of my anger, my friend quietly asked when was the last time that I prayed for him.

Yes, Lord, I hear you.

She then prayed for me and for him and for work and for our friendship.

From anger to blessing in one question.

My father and I get together on a regular basis to eat breakfast at a local greasy spoon. After moaning and groaning our way back to the car, we head to Wal-Mart. Our destination? The $5.50 DVD bin. We are experts at shuffling through to discover new finds.

We start in one corner of the bin and dig our way to the bottom. Once that surface has been sighted, we start staking. The key to the whole operation is the stacks. You see, DVD’s just get dumped into the bin and it is difficult to know what is there. They slip and slide around as you are searching through them and there is really no place to put the ones you have already searched. However, if you stack them, you eventually have quite a bit of left over space.

Dad and I usually draw an interested crowd. After all, we have our system down to a fine art and are quite enthusiastic when we find a good movie. Of course, all the interest is not in us. I know that. Most of our watchers have their eyes glued to the stacks we are creating. What movies are we rejecting? Will we hand over that one? Have we seen this one?

I tell you, it is quite satisfying to discover a DVD at the bottom of the pile. Of course, since there are two of us, we often have to find a second copy. Old movies for him, Sci-fi or Disaster for me.

Yes, we both have Excel spreadsheets with all the DVD’s we own…and the ones we want.

The Holy Grail…a $5.50 DVD from that list!

Another beginning…will I do better this month than in March?

Will I learn to look past that which mires me down at work?

Will I learn to be more thankful for that which I do have rather than yearn for that which I don’t?

Will I be better at forgiving and forgetting?

Will I remember to live more by faith from nine to five?

Will I?

I thought of a blessing today that I have been remiss in being thankful for…my boss.

She has been incredibly supportive, and I find it a privilege to work with her because she is grace and maturity and professionalism personified.

But, what I thought of today was not these qualities. What I thought of was the fact that she is a talented writer. She wrote the descriptions of the core values at our work. The language is simply beautiful. Succinct and descriptive and powerful all at once. Some month ago, I was surprised to learn that she wrote them. But I shouldn’t have been.

She is a great editor. She can take my writing and polish it to a beautiful shine. A word here, a phrase there. And, of course, her blatant deletions. I moan and groan when she deletes whole sentences, or even worse whole paragraph. And I near keel over when she takes nearly every bit of “passionate” description (non-business metaphors) and forces me to focus. But her efforts always makes my writing better.

We do argue a bit. For example, she is against the use of “both” when I fundamentally believe that you need to lead the average reader these days…you need to set them up for compound ideas when those ideas are long and full of adjectives, adverbs, or modifying phrases. The word “both” serves as a trigger to the reader to remind them to look for two things in the sentence, not one. But alas nearly every “both” has been stricken from my writing.

I am working on web site text and marketing collateral text and letters and ads and handbooks and proposals and… I enjoy writing. I revel in this aspect of my work.

And I am thankful that I have someone serving as an editor who is clearly talented and makes every word I write better.

What writer could want more?

I stayed home yesterday because I was feeling ill.

I worked from 9:00 AM until Midnight with just an hour break…other than being sick in the bathroom.

I have to stop doing this to myself!

I did get some good work done though…does that matter?

My father told me that the magnet is missing off the back of his car. It is one of those “support our troops” magnets that have an America flag theme. It is a strong magnet that could hardly have fallen off. Someone had to have taken it.

Was it someone who is against having troops in Iraq and was making a statement?

Was it someone who was just doing so for a lark?

Was it someone who wanted a magnet for himself and could not afford the $1.50 cost?

Which scenario would you choose? The pessimistic, the practical, or the pitiful?

I am so angry this evening and I am frustrated with myself because I am right back where I am trying not to be.

I had someone dump a handbook for a new course on my lap this afternoon. It is not that document to review was 24 pages, it was that the course begins next Monday and for the THIRD time I was asked to review a student handbook last minute.

I cannot catch everything in a 24 page document in one reading, especially when I am also trying to make the formatting consistent.

So the job is left undone. The students are given a less-than-top quality done. And I end up working until 8:45 PM on a Friday evening trying to do the impossible.

How do I not resent this?

Why do so many drivers feel as if they can run red lights without any thought toward the LAW or other drivers? Or why do drivers feel that, in traffic, they can sit in an intersection even knowing that the light will be changing soon and they will be blocking traffic? Why do so many drivers seem to have forgotten the use of turn signals?

Traffic is a great opportunity to examine your patience, your equanimity, your character…your faith.

I find myself wanting in traffic. I am not patient. I am not calm. I do not always think the best thoughts about those rude drivers when they cross my path.

I worked Saturday and Sunday. WHY?

I am disappointed in myself. I vowed not to end up doing the work for others on these nominations. Yet over the last two weeks, I have spent more time trying to get others to work on them than it would have taken me to write them myself if I could get the source material. I also clearly said that I would not work on them the day they were due, but I did.

I drew a line in the sand and watched while others walked past.

I wish I could figure out a way to set boundaries that work at work. I want to be able to say that when it comes to doing things at the last minute, when the opportunity was there to plan and prepare, I will not end up helping to bail people out.

But can I say that? Even as a manager?

I am working too much…staying late too often…logging on at night and during the weekends too much.

We had an intervention of sorts today. I thought it was going to be a working out of things, but I felt more attacked than anything. I feel battered and bruised and hardly hopeful that anything will change.

I single handedly seem to be discrediting this person’s reputation at work. She is angry over stuff from last fall that I didn’t even know about. I am selfish and unhelpful and disingenuous and not a team player and …

Am I these things?

Have I not spent eleven months trying to raise the caliber of communications and getting marketing tools in place for people to use? Have I not ended up working last minute time and time again while watching the tasks I’ve asked to be done fall by the wayside over and over?

I am not saying I’m perfect. I am not.

However, I am not the person she believes me to be.

I honestly cannot see how today’s meeting helped. She said that she could walk away from her frustration and anger at me and start anew, but I am not hopeful. We are to avoid email and use the phone. I am not hopeful that will happen either.

Where is that attitude adjustment when you need it?

It is business, not personal. It is business, not personal. It is business, not personal.

What a week. For once I wrote something in an email that I would NEVER normally have said. I let my frustration override reason and responded in writing to something that I shouldn’t have. And then…oh boy…and then instead of forwarding the email as I intended, I hit reply.

ARGH!!!

I used the phrase “beating a dead horse” because I had decided that I was not going to do that anymore at work. I was going to stop beating my head against the wall at work. The dead horse referred to an event, not a person. Yet, the person thought it was her and life just got really complicated.

One click of a mouse and I find myself in quicksand.

My apology was rejected. I am sorry for her receiving the email, but I am not sorry for my frustration or my language because I did not call her a dead horse.

One click and disaster. I am feeling rather melodramatic.

The first day of a new month. A new beginning? I hope so.

I have found myself growing more and more pessimistic at work at times. I enjoy what I do. I marvel at the mission of the company. But I rail against the things at work that drive me crazy.

I cannot believe how many people leave things until the last minute. How many people come to meetings late. How many people are okay with sending out emails, letters, proposals, etc. that have not been spell-checked or proofed with any reliable accuracy.

But, more importantly, I am frustrated by how seemingly perceptions seem more important than reality. I check myself. I recount my actions. I pray. And… yet…most of the time when I am trying to help, I am perceived as not doing so.

I just wish I could live as a hermit, where nothing I do or say can be misinterpreted.

I wonder if I am wrong in thinking that, for the most part, no matter what is going on in my life I don’t let it affect my productivity or take it out on someone else?

A while ago, someone in senior management yelled at me and threatened me with my job. He apologized to my boss, but never to me. I learned that other things were going on, but I never would have yelled at him. I would never say half the stuff I hear from others or listen to on my voicemail or read in email.

But if I were honest with myself I would admit that my frustrations have spilled out onto the one person who does not deserve it. My boss. Frankly she should be up for corporate sainthood these days.

I must admit that Mondays are my least favorite days. I think that I need to figure out how to adjust my attitude. Most Mondays, I feel as if I didn’t get quite enough sleep to make up for the past week’s work. I delay getting out of bed and then have to rush to get out the door. I dread the commute because it reminds me that I have nine more to go before the next time I get to sleep in and try to catch up on my fatigue.

I need to come up with a good reason to look forward to Mondays…

Any suggestions?

Of course, I could always make it the day I walk across the street at work to get a bacon, egg, and cheese on a sun-dried bagel sandwich. NOTHING is a better way to start the day…unless you add a Dr. Pepper to the mix.

Still, even I recognize that food should not be the answer.

Any better ideas?

Sometimes I feel as if I live for the weekends…to sleep…to rest.

Of course, soon Spring will be coming and I will be spending a few weekends in the yard.

I love the smell of mulch and wet soil. I enjoy puttering around the yard and setting out flowers in the pots on my deck. I actually like mowing, although doing so in mid Summer is usually difficult because of the heat.

I like mowing because when you are done, you see immediate and impressive results from your labors. No delayed gratification from there.

But…today…there is no mulch to be spread nor flowers to plant. Today there is lagging on the couch recovering from working all week.

I had a revelation of sorts...

Some nights I wake up extremely ill, trembling and nauseous. It is usually around 2:00 in the morning. I stumble to the bathroom and lie on the cold tile, hoping the feeling will pass. Sometimes it does and sometimes I end up vomiting for a while before I feel better.

I have asked several doctors about this, but no reason has come to mind. It does not always happen. What I eat does not seem to have an effect...neither does exercise or relaxing before I go to sleep.

Now, there is also this spot on the back of my head that if I have a barrette resting against it causes me to grow nauseous and weak. Most of the time I forget that happens and fail to take care where I place my barrette. I am usually quite ill before I put 2 and 2 together and yank the barrette from my head. The spot is not different from any other on my head except for the fact that pressure against it causes me to fall ill.

2 and 2...

Yes, you might have figured out my revelation.

I believe the reason I grow ill at night sometimes is because the way I am lying on the pillow presses against that same spot. Sounds plausible, eh?

Now, when I lie down to sleep, I make sure that none of the six pillows that I sleep with are behind my head in any fashion. I also sleep with that particular sort of hanging off the back of the pillow.

Ever since my revelation, I have only been ill at night one time. And that time I had a pillow against the bed frame that was pressing against the back of my head.

Weird, eh?

Still I wonder...why would even the slighted bit of continued pressure against my skull make me so ill?

Yesterday was a good day. It was a good day because the FDA, after three days of hearings, decided against pulling the drug Celebrex.

I have been truly frightened that I would no longer have access to the one pain reliever that helps with my arthritis.

I have worried so much that my best friend chastised me that I was not trusting God with my pain and with my fears. She was absolutely right.

How very often I fall back into the belief that I must somehow work something out on my own when I am a child of Christ and only need to trust that He will provide for my needs.

I am thankful I have a friend loves me enough to admonish me in the Lord. I am equally thankful that Celebrex will still be at the pharmacy next month when I pick up my prescription.

It was a good day.

My car was blocked in at work last night when I went to leave. The person was at a meeting until 8:45. When he returned he said that he hoped he hadn’t ruined my evening. What is the proper response to such a situation?

I was incredibly angry. I think it was incredibly thoughtless to leave for a late night meeting with his car blocking another. I found his attitude when he returned rude and demeaning.

I wish that I were gracious, that I looked at the opportunity to catch up on more work. But all I could think about was that I would never have left my car blocking another. And I was exhausted. And I still had a long commute home. And I would surely find a mess from my poor dog who was trapped inside my house.

What should I have said? I just stared at him and then gathered my things and left.

I am fairly sure that past his comment about not ruining my evening the person has not given the matter another thought. I have stewed a bit. Been pessimistic that it will surely happen again. Vowed never to park in the two spots where that can happen again (even though I had taken the spot because I know other people hate parking in them). And sorrowed over my own anger.

I have been so angry lately. I do not know why. And that bothers me.

While I would like to say mine is a righteous anger because it has been at people walking into meetings quite late without saying a word in apology… at people who ask others to pull work together at the last minute because they cannot plan adequately for their own jobs… at employees in customer service who act as if it is a great imposition that you need help...surely you might be angry too?

I would like to think so, but I know the better response would be the gracious one that so eludes me.

How do you say “I love you”?

My best friend is quite creative in doing so. My favorite two of late are the following:

I have reveled in the two visits I have had with my best friend and her new daughter. In November and last month, they took the train down for a four day weekend. We watch movies, play games, and play with the baby. My friend is generous enough to allow me to be the caretaker of her daughter while with me, dressing, diapering, soothing, and this last time feeding baby cereal. Simple tasks that are never a chore with her little butterball.

However, with the MS, I do not have the best control of my hands at times. So while snaps on baby clothing is meant to ease the dressing process, I find them rather difficult to use. I struggle and struggle to get them to snap, sighing with relief when I am finished. Only when I take a second look at her daughter, I discover that I have missed a snap and her clothing is all crooked.

In November, my friend had brought one outfit that was pants. Naturally, I was all for her daughter wearing the same outfit all four days. Her mother was quite against that idea, especially since babies grow out of their rather adorable clothing all too quickly.

So when my friend was packing for this last visit, I asked if she was going to bring some pants. Her answer was a bit evasive and I forced myself to drop the subject. Imagine my surprise when my friend called me to the guest room only to find all of her daughters clothing spread out on the bed. Every outfit was pants.

“I love you.”

The second way I hear “I love you” from my friend is seemingly thoughtless.

Those who know me know that I get exhausting working full time. I sleep until the latest possible moment in the mornings and I do not want phone calls on Saturdays before noon. The later is quite forbidden.

Forbidden that is except for my friend. She will call me early in the morning, even on workdays, to squeeze in a game of on-line Scrabble. Even with a new baby and a husband, she still finds time to satiate my unquenchable thirst for playing games. She beats me, too (though I like the competition, I HATE losing).

Though she had called on Saturday mornings a few times, it wasn’t until I had had a truly horrible day at work that she broke the weekday morning phone call taboo. I had cried on the phone the night before the whole way home from work. Life was hard. I finally fell asleep and had only had a few hours rest when the phone rang at 7:20. It was my friend asking me if I wanted to play Scrabble.

“I love you.”

I truly have been blessed by working with my boss. She is the epitome of professional grace. She certainly has a discerning spirit. And she is a talented communicator, be it in oral or written form. I am thankful for the opportunity to have worked with her for the past ten months.

This organization is remarkable in its mission. An affordable housing developer that is more interested in also developing the lives of the residents than making as great a profit as possible. In 1995, they were wiring affordable housing for broadband Internet access. In short, the program staff are visionaries and the real estate staff are creative masters at complex deals involving renovation-in-place.

But…I am worn down by the uphill battle this place is.

All I am trying to do is bring consistency, create marketing and promotional materials, and establish standards, boilerplate text, and policies that will help staff. Yet it seems as if I constantly have to defend my position, remind people of my responsibilities, and beg them to supply information about their work.

Everyone wants the webpage done, wants our contact list cleaned up, wants brochures to pass out, wants, wants, wants…but they do not really want to help with gathering the background information and reviewing the drafts for accuracy. I constantly learn about press requests after the fact. When I remind them that they should have funneled the request through me, I am viewed as egocentric.

A lot of what I do, by creating new materials or editing others sometimes ends up highlighting what someone else did not do or did without regard to quality. I do not speak the words, but the message is said simply by my labors.

When I ask to review material so that I can establish consistency and edit for grammar and spelling, I am viewed as judgmental. My emails are seen as rude. And I have the reputation of being unwilling to help other, expecting them to do my work for them.

I know that this is not true. It is not who I am. But I find myself second-guessing every thing I do and constantly asking for advice as if I were a child rather than a competent manager.

I do not like the person I have become here, and I worry that any witness I might have had has been destroyed by the tension my position has brought to the organization.

My friend emailed this to me and I couldn’t resist posting it! How often do we get have a good laugh over healthcare?

A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. As she lay her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird's chest. After a moment or two, the vet shook his head sadly and said, "I'm so sorry, your pet has passed away."

The distressed owner wailed, "Are you sure?

"Yes, I'm sure. The duck is dead," he replied.

"How can you be so sure," she protested. "I mean, you haven't done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something."

The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room.

He returned a few moments later with a black Labrador Retriever. As the duck's owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.

The vet patted the dog and took it out and returned a few moments later with a beautiful cat.

The cat jumped up on the table and also sniffed the bird from its beak to its tail and back again. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly, jumped down and strolled out of the room.

The vet looked at the woman and said, "I'm sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck."

Then the vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys, and produced a bill, which he handed to the woman.

The duck's owner, still in shock, took the bill. "$150!" she cried. "$150 just to tell me my duck is dead?!!"

The vet shrugged. "If you'd taken my word for it, the bill would have been $20. But what with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it all adds up.”