Good gravy it’s been a while since I’ve written. I’ve thought about it. I even started a blog not too long ago. It sounded forced and uninspiring. Tonight I feel like I have diarrhea of the fingers, so hopefully something good will come of it!
So Simon and I are now living in Flagstaff, AZ. I’m not gonna lie...I really like it here. We’ve been here since the very end of September, and so far have managed to go on several hikes, we’ve made friends with a few fellow travelers and we’ve been eating out like there’s no tomorrow. Seriously, the number of restaurants to try here is almost overwhelming. I keep telling people that we’re slowly eating our way through Flagstaff. So far we’ve had Mexican, Latin, and Cajun cuisine. All of it was phenomenal. The other night we had burgers at a place called Diablo Burger and it was one of the best burgers I’ve ever had. It was interesting because it was served on an English muffin, which was something new for me. I devoured that burger. I honestly barely remember what it tasted like, it was that good. I guess that means I’ll have to go back for a repeat tasting. What a bummer. ;)
It’s safe to say that we’ve finally adjusted to the altitude...well, at least we mostly have. We’ll still randomly get out of breath for seemingly no reason. I’ve been using my inhaler a lot more than usual. And our noses will not stop running...we’ve been here less than a month and have already gone through 2 boxes of kleenex. I have no idea what that’s about. It is more dusty here than we’re used to, and lately they’ve been doing controlled burns in the surrounding forest, so maybe that has something to do with it. All I know is that I woke up this morning to a pile of kleenex next to me from the previous night’s nose-blowing. The dogs are loving it...they love to eat used kleenexes...filthy beasts.
I found out that the nursing unit I’ll be working on has 12 beds. That’s right, 12. When I clarified with my nurse manager that the unit was indeed 12 beds and not 12 rooms (it’s 6 double patient rooms), she was concerned that I wouldn’t like working on a small unit. In fact, I’m excited to work on such a small unit. The last three nursing units that I’ve worked on have been long hallways that left me with aching feet most mornings. Sometimes I felt like I hobbled rather than walked to the car after a shift. I used to count a shift of work as exercise due to all the walking that I did. Not that I’ll be slacking at this job; I’m told that the patients we have will keep me plenty busy throughout my shift. Speaking of patients, we’ve been told that we have a lot of patients who come from the Native American reservations, mainly Hopi and Navajo. I’m actually looking forward to learning more about them, since my knowledge of Native Americans is basically nil. I’ve heard that taking care of them can be challenging due to cultural differences, but any patient at any given time can be challenging, so I’m trying to go into it with an open mind.
It’s nice that both Simon and I will be working on this assignment. When I took the job in St. Cloud over the summer, I didn’t realize how hard it would be for me to go to work while he got to play. And Simon and I didn’t see each other as much as we normally do. I know that a lot of people find it weird that we spend so much time together...I even think it’s weird, but it works so I don’t really question it all that much. I tried to not be jealous of all his free time, but it was hard sometimes. I kept reminding myself that it was my choice to take the job, that initially we had talked about both of us taking the summer off. But I knew that St. Cloud was a great hospital to work in, their staff is great and the patients weren’t too complicated. I had had a great experience working there in the past and wanted to work there again. I thought that working in Minnesota for the summer would get me close enough to still see everyone I wanted to see and do everything I wanted to do. It didn’t quite work out that way. When I’m away on an assignment, I don’t get too bent out of shape when I miss out on barbecues and camping trips and get togethers because I physically wouldn’t be able to go. Being so close and still not being able to partake in fun things with my friends and family was torture. It truly was. I don’t even know how to explain it without sounding like a total brat...everyone works and everyone misses out on things because of work. That’s how it goes. And as Simon frequently reminded me, I was getting to see and do more with friends and family even while working than I would have if we were across the country. I needed to focus on the things that I was able to do, and quit dwelling on the things I was missing. I think I just had it in my head that being back in Minnesota means tons of time with friends and family...because normally when I’m back in Minnesota I’m not working and I spend as much time as possible visiting people. So yes, there was a lot of attitude adjusting on my part taking place over the summer.
In other bits and bobs not related to my recent relocation, I have decided that I’m not going to write a book. To be honest, I wasn’t all that serious about it to begin with, but the thought of it was tempting. I spent a decent amount of time around a good number of friends this summer, and I realized that I’m not a good story-teller. I’m really not. And I don’t say that to get a chorus of, ‘but you’re such a good writer!’ And I may be a good writer. But I’ve found that a good writer and a good story-teller are two very different things. I know that a person doesn’t just sit down and write a novel...it takes years of practice, years of trial and error, and years of research. I’ve been reading a lot lately, and I’ve been paying attention to what makes for a good story. I don’t think it’s a show-stopping plot, a whole troop of colorful characters, or even slapstick humor. It’s attention to detail. It’s the ability the writer has to bring the reader into the story as if they were an active participant in the story. I don’t have that. I skimp on details. Half the time when I’m talking I leave out pivotal details on the story I’m trying to tell. I can’t slow down enough to write about the little things, and the little things are what make a good story great. But don’t worry, I’ll continue to blather on in my blogs. And even better yet, reading my blogs is free. Reading my published novel would not be. So really, I’m doing everyone a favor by continuing to write here. :)
I’m an active participant on Pinterest. If you don’t yet know what it is, visit the site with caution...it’s extremely addictive. I’ve been using Pinterest for about a year now and I’m finally to the point where I can visit my site without pinning anything. I used to spend hours on there though. Lately I’ve noticed a bit of a trend. Women are pinning pictures of their nails painted all funky colors and whatnot. Instead of just fanning out their fingers and photographing from above, they are curling their fingers in like a claw and taking the photo facing their palm. Are you following? It’s creepy, and I don’t like it. Those pictures make me uncomfortable. They don’t make me angry like the pictures of people making hearts with their hands (hate that), but they put me on edge. Stop making the claw, it’s giving people (me) the heebie geebies.
This is going way back to August, but what is the deal with water polo? I felt that while the Olympics were on, there was a disproportionate amount of time spent broadcasting water polo matches. Nothing like watching a bunch of people tread water while tossing a ball about. Boring. I’d rather watch volleyball or the equestrian events or track or crew or some other swimming event...basically I’d rather watch anything but water polo. Water polo has got to be one of the most boring Olympic sports ever. Ever. And I’m not trying to take anything away from the athleticism of the water polo competitors, because they’re in better shape than I could ever hope to be, but their sport is a giant yawner.
After several years of planning, my t-shirt quilts have become a reality. And they are fantastic. Truly, they have become two of my most prized possessions. Sometimes I’ll just sit on the bed and run my hands over their soft cottony covers, remember where and when I aquired a particular shirt. It’s like a scrapbook that I can wrap myself up in. And it’s so soft. I had the quilt made by Campus Quilt Company, and the entire process couldn’t have been easier. I basically sent them a $100 deposit, they sent me a package that contained layout instructions, customizations, and a mailer to send the shirts back to them. That’s it. They sent me updates when they received the shirts, when they were starting to cut the shirts, when they were starting to sew everything together, and when they had completed. They even called me a couple times to discuss layout issues that they had come across. They sent me photos of the completed quilts so that I could see them before they arrived at my front door. They provided fantastic customer service, and a great product besides. And now I have this wonderful keepsake that I can take with me anywhere...and not only is it a keepsake, but it’s also functional. After two queen-sized quilts (42 t-shirts each), I still have a few shirts left over, so there will be more quilts in my future.
In the last few months I’ve become aware of a certain precedent that I’ve set with people. Someone will send me a picture of genitals on a statue or a turd on the ground and say, “this made me think of you.” I’m not sure how to feel about that. On one hand I’m flattered that people are thinking about me. On the other, they’re thinking about me because they saw either poop or genitals. It’s no secret that I talk exorbitantly about genitals and poop, so it makes sense that people would think of me when they see either of those things. I just think it’s funny.
On a more serious note, I made one of the toughest decisions of my adult life before coming to Flagstaff. The morning Simon and I left Minnesota, it turns out. I decided that my dog Lady would stay back in Minnesota with my parents rather than come with Simon and I to Arizona. It wasn’t an easy decision, and one that I had been struggling with in the months leading up to it. I may have mentioned in an earlier post that Lady has been having trouble holding her bladder. With some new medications, things were getting a little better for her, but she was still getting me up at least once a night to go outside. Which is fine, I had no problem with getting up to let her out. That’s a lie, I hated it, but I did it because I wanted her to be comfortable...and because I don’t enjoy cleaning up urine off the floor. Back on topic, with regular toileting Lady was doing fine. But reality was quickly catching up to me when I realized that if she can’t hold it for 8 hours at a time, there’s no way she would be able to hold it for 13 hours at a time, which is roughly how long she would be left alone while Simon and I were at work. And the thing with Lady is, she’s smart. And she’s always been very shameful. For every little drop of urine that dribbled out of her in the house, she stressed. She was constantly licking herself, her bedding, and anything else that she thought she may have soiled. She constantly looked like she was just waiting to be punished for going to the bathroom indoors. I knew she couldn’t help it, so of course she wasn’t punished, but still she waited for the punishment. So I made the decision that she should stay home in Eyota with my parents. My parents work 8 hour shifts, they have two dogs of their own, and are more available to the dogs than Simon and I would be while we’re working. I still feel guilty about leaving her behind. I know that my parents are taking fantastic care of her, and they give me weekly updates on how she’s doing. I have no doubt in my mind that my parents provide the same care for her that I would. I just feel like I betrayed her by leaving without her. I’ve had her for 11 years. She was with me during my senior year of college, during the purchase of my first home, and during most of my travels across the country. She’s been my constant companion for all these years and I left her behind. It’s hard. I guess these things always are.
It’s difficult to see our pets age. Brie is now mostly blind and almost totally deaf. She doesn’t enjoy going for walks anymore because she can’t really see where she’s going, and objects that are so obvious to me seemingly jump out of nowhere and startle her. Just three years ago Simon and I would take all three of the dogs hiking up a small mountain in Arkansas. Brie was the most agile of the three, leaping from rock to rock like it was nothing. Now she can barely jump up on the bed. Is she miserable? I suppose sometimes she is. It’s hard to tell, I guess. She’s miserable when she’s outside, but when she’s inside snuggled up with me on the couch, she’s happy as can be. So I guess that counts for something.
On to lighter things...I just realized recently that Simon and I tie our shoes differently. I make the one loop and do the wrap around, while Simon makes two loops and ties the knot with the loops. I don’t know how this had escaped me all these years that we’ve been dating. Truth be told, since I’ve been wearing Salomon shoes, I don’t ever tie shoelaces because they have a pull cord system. Spending half the year in Florida for the past three years has left us wearing flip flops the majority of the time. Today I bought a pair of slip-ons and a pair of velcro shoes. I don’t have a single pair of shoes with me right now that have laces. How weird is that? I think it’s pretty weird. And the only reason that I bring it up is because while I was home before moving to Arizona, I was wearing a pair of shoes that had laces and I momentarily forgot how to tie them. It was just for a couple seconds, but I honestly thought I was losing my mind.
With the help of my friend Dana, I finally purchased a couple pairs of skinny jeans. And I’ve actually worn them! And it really wasn’t all that awful. It’s still kind of strange though. I only wear them with boots. After all these years of wearing flare-leg jeans I’m a little geeked out by seeing my shoes, or at least that much of my shoes. With flare leg jeans I saw the toes of my shoes and that was usually about it. Seeing the entire shoe is weird and I’m not used to it yet. So I wear the skinny jeans with boots. I suppose I’ll wear them with regular shoes one of these days...I’m just not there yet. Skinny jeans themselves were a huge leap for me, so it’s no surprise the skinny jeans worn with shoes probably won’t happen for another year or so...hahaha! Other than that though, I’m a complete fashion failure. I just can’t do it. Any time I try to change it up and be fashionable I wind up changing back into jeans and a t-shirt. Or yoga pants and a hoodie. I feel like fashion looks weird on me, like I’m a poser, like I’m trying too hard. It’s just not natural for me to be on-trend. I’ve mostly given up.
And I guess that’s it from me at the moment. I had to take a break during the writing of this to bathe my dog. At 1:00am. I’m keeping some weird hours tonight. And now I have the problem of going to bed with a wet dog. Do I make her sleep in the kennel tonight, or do I try to have her sleep on a towel in the bed? I know she won’t stay on the towel, and if I put her in the kennel she’ll just cry all night. The washer isn’t big enough for the comforter to fit, so if I let her in the bed then I’m going to have to go to the laundromat to wash the comforter, and I really don’t want to waste a day off at the laundromat. All these decisions! I guess if these are the most pressing decisions that I have to make tonight, life isn’t treating me too badly at the moment. I can only hope that the rest of you have nothing but trivial decisions to make today. Have a good one.
Stefanie
I found out that the nursing unit I’ll be working on has 12 beds. That’s right, 12. When I clarified with my nurse manager that the unit was indeed 12 beds and not 12 rooms (it’s 6 double patient rooms), she was concerned that I wouldn’t like working on a small unit. In fact, I’m excited to work on such a small unit. The last three nursing units that I’ve worked on have been long hallways that left me with aching feet most mornings. Sometimes I felt like I hobbled rather than walked to the car after a shift. I used to count a shift of work as exercise due to all the walking that I did. Not that I’ll be slacking at this job; I’m told that the patients we have will keep me plenty busy throughout my shift. Speaking of patients, we’ve been told that we have a lot of patients who come from the Native American reservations, mainly Hopi and Navajo. I’m actually looking forward to learning more about them, since my knowledge of Native Americans is basically nil. I’ve heard that taking care of them can be challenging due to cultural differences, but any patient at any given time can be challenging, so I’m trying to go into it with an open mind.
