Hump Day Randomness....

Here's a fun fact for the day: I've never seen Cooper lick his wiener. Not that I'm the type of weirdo who hangs around keeping track of that sort of thing, but Simon and I were talking with friends recently and they commented about how their dog licks his wiener at the most inopportune times. Which is usually the case with dogs, and cats too, I suppose. They behave normally until you sit down to watch TV or you have guests over, then decide that right then and there is the perfect time to give a good washing to their genitals. In front of everyone. No shame. So that got me thinking...Cooper never does that. Isn't that weird? Shouldn't he? I can't decide if he neglects wiener washings simply because he doesn't care, or if it's a matter of him not having the flexibility to reach. I certainly don't want to take up the torch of cleaning his wiener for him, especially since it's been 11 years and all has been well in that department thus far. It's just kind of a funny thing to think about. Animals are weird. They cause us people to be weird, too.

Moving on with more stories about Cooper...seriously, I could probably fill an entire blog up with stories about him...he's such an odd little bugger. Simon and I went to Phoenix in late December to have a sort of couple's getaway. It was a nice reprieve from all our responsibilities, and while there was a cold snap going through and it wasn't the nice, warm, balmy weather we expecting, it was nice to just get away from work, laundry, doing the dishes, cooking, bills, and all those other things that get in the way of us just focusing on each other and having fun. So we lined up our wonderful pet sitter, Bryn, to watch Cooper for us, as usual. Well...all was not as usual when Bryn messaged me to tell me that Cooper had peed all over our bed after we left. Like, on the pillows. Granted, Simon and I have needed new pillows for a while, but I hadn't counted on the dog making that final decision for us. I was completely flabbergasted by it. It's a phenomenon known as the "angry pee," and it's really not all that uncommon of a thing. It's their way of punishing us for leaving them behind or putting them in situations that they're not happy about. My first dog, Lady, was notorious for the angry pee. If that little dog felt slighted in the least, you could bet there would be a puddle on the floor to show for it. And what do you do then? Punish her? And risk yet another angry pee? I usually did punish her, but I felt bad about it because I knew that she was frustrated or afraid and couldn't think of a better way to show it. The alternative to angry peeing probably would have been to destroy something of mine or Simon's...most likely mine, since she adored Simon. So back to Cooper...at 11 years old, he has never, ever angry peed. And the reason I know that it was an angry pee and not just a straight up accident is because it was on our bed. He's had the occasional accident over the years, but never on the bed...this time, it was personal. I felt bad for Bryn, having to deal with that, but luckily we have lots of spare bedding at the ready, so at least she didn't have to deal too much with it. What a little turd.

So now that it's wintertime, I can air my grievances about my disdain for the smell of cold people. I know, it's such a weird thing to notice, but I don't like the way people smell when they come inside from the cold. I can't even describe what it smells like, just that I find it overwhelmingly unpleasant. I have a hypersensitive sense of smell, and while good things smell really really good, that also means that bad things smell really really bad. Downright terrible, in fact...frequently nauseating. People ask me how I've been able to be a nurse for this long with a strong sense of smell. Simple...I hold my breath. All the time. Sometimes to the point that I feel as though I'm putting myself at risk for passing out. I haven't passed out yet, but there have been some close calls of me running out of the door of the patient room for a brief second just to take a breath of some fresher air (because, let's be serious, you don't have to be a hypersensitive smeller to realize that there's no such thing as fresh air in a hospital). I couldn't eat Indian food for the longest time, not just because it looks like vomit, but because the smell of the spices upon entering the restaurant made me want to hurl. The first time I went to an Indian restaurant I physically almost turned around and walked right back out. Had my friends not been behind me, I probably would have. Even after all these years of really enjoying Indian food, I still hold my breath when I enter an Indian restaurant. I physically gag almost every time I pick up Cooper's poop. You'd think after all this time I'd have the breath holding down to a science when it comes to picking up dog poop, but no, sometimes I just forget and inhale at the wrong time, or sometimes I do get the breath holding just right, but the smell still lingers after I've determined that it might be safe to breathe. Simon used to make fun of me every time I'd pick up the poop, because I would always say, "that poop stinks!" Well, yeah...because it's poop...poop always stinks. But...I think it stinks worse to me. When we first started dating and I would comment on how good something smelled, Simon used to think that having a hypersensitive sense of smell was a blessing in disguise...after having to deal with me and my nose for 8+ years, he's come to believe that it's actually quite the curse, having determined that there are far more bad smelling things in this world than good smelling. Life is hard, eh?

In my previous blog, I had eluded to the idea of some changes that I'm going to make in the coming year. One of those changes might be the acquisition of a Jeep Wrangler. Don't get me wrong, I like both of our current carss, but I don't particularly enjoy them. Ever since my Jeep Liberty, which I had for 8 wonderful years, I just haven't enjoyed our cars all that much. The Grand Cherokee is huge, and while it's got about all the bells and whistles a person could want, it's not all that fun to tear around in. Truth be told, I shouldn't be tearing around in it at all, as it's rather top heavy and feels like it's going to roll over if I take a corner too fast. But I do love those heated seats...oh yes, I don't think I'll ever own another car without heated seats (peter heaters, as we've come to call them). Outside of the lack of tearing around ability, the Grand Cherokee is a really good vehicle...it pulls our trailer like a champ. Even when we had two kayaks up top and a giant 6x12 trailer loaded to the gills on our move out here to Flagstaff, that thing never stuttered for a second. It's got a great engine, it can get through dang near any sort of terrain, and it has that fabulous Jeep turning radius. What more could a person want? Well...I want to start Jeeping...which means I want to start driving down dirt roads and taking off-road trails that are designed specifically for off-road vehicles. I know that the Grand Cherokee has a Trail Rated badge on it, which means that per factory specifications, it's equipped to go off-road, but it's big and sometimes unwieldy, and honestly, despite the wonderful Jeep turning radius, getting that thing turned around in a tight spot might very well have me careening off a cliff. But we're not ready to get rid of the Cherokee yet, mostly because it's the only vehicle we have that can pull our trailer, and better yet, it's paid off. So...the Juke might be the one to get the axe, should I decide to go through with getting the Wrangler. There used to be a time in my life when trading in my old car for a new car would have me in tears. As if the old car and I had bonded on an emotional level and that I was abandoning it to the unknown. That's probably why I've sold most of my old cars to my parents...so I could still drive them once in a while and feel that I left the car in good hands. Silly, I know. But I've kind of gotten over that. I like the Juke, but I don't love the Juke. I've never really gotten used to the turbo-charged engine, mostly because of the turbo-lag, which I knew nothing about prior to owning a car with a turbo. It's kind of like the car is under powered when you first push on the accelerator, which is actually quite frightening when you're trying to pull out in traffic, and then all the sudden that turbo kicks in and you're thrown back in the seat whilst roasting the tires...let me tell you, there's nothing sexier than a little front-wheel drive hatchback roasting the tires at an intersection...hahaha! Not that I'm looking for sexy, I'm just looking for something more enjoyable and fun. I've wanted a Wrangler for a long time, and now that I'm in a position to do so, and I'm trying to focus on activities and such that make me the happiest, I think I'd really enjoy a vehicle that I can do more with. So I'm thinking about it. In obtaining as much happiness as possible, I'm remaining mindful of the fact that flipping cars all the time isn't exactly financially smart, and given that one of our bigger changes in the next year or so will require a fair amount of money, maybe an additional expense simply for fun isn't the smartest idea. So we'll see.

More dog stuff, and this is just plain weird. So when I had Brie, my other little pug (rest her stinky little soul), one of her favorite things was to chew up my underpants. Sometimes she'd outright destroy them, other times she'd simply gnaw on them for a while and leave little damage to speak of, outside of maybe a small hole or two. Well, being the cheapy that I am, I'd survey the wreckage and determine if the underpants were salvageable or not. More often than not, they were, and those underpants would then be downgraded to the "work underpants" drawer. I have no idea how this whole idea of work underpants came about. I think because my job had the high probability of being disgusting a fair amount of the time, I found it somewhat frivolous to waste my good underpants on a night spent cleaning up blood and body fluids. Not that it even matters...they're just underpants for crying out loud, and it's not like I'm continually getting splashed by other people's excrement, but for some reason I feel that being at work requires underpants that are on the B-squad. Being a nurse, the last things I care about in underpants while on the job are panty lines or lace trim...what I really care about are underpants that aren't going to ride up my butt when I'm chasing a naked patient down the hallway. So the underpants that Brie liked the best soon became work underpants. The other day, a pair of Brie/work underpants reached the level of holiness that destined them for the trash can. I had a moment of sadness as I remembered what delight she got out of ripping apart my grundies...as if throwing them away was like throwing away a physical memory of her. Silly, I know, but I loved that little dog and I still miss her so much, and any little bit of her that I can hold on to, I do. Like I said...dogs are weird...so are their people.

Well, now that we're all weirded out by my personal habits and my bizarre attachment issues to chewed up underpants (would it be less weird if it was Simon who had been chewing on them? Wait...don't answer that...), let's move on. I have a weird annoyance associated with the addition of skin color choices for the emojis on my iphone. Why be annoyed by something so trivial? I have no idea. It's just one of those things. Prior to the skin color choices, pretty much everything that represented a human being was yellow. Bright yellow. Like no person outside of someone dying of liver failure is actually that shade of yellow. So, in representing no one, the yellow emojis represented everyone. Were people really complaining or offended by a lack of a brown, or a tan, or a white person emoji?  There's a middle finger emoji now (complete with skin color choices); are people offended by that too? Simon said that maybe a white person or a black person might not feel like they're being accurately represented by the yellow emoji. Does the color of the emoji better get your point across? I mean, if you're getting an emoji from me and I chose to use a black person rather than a white person, does that change the meaning of the emoji itself? As a white person, is it appropriate for me to even use the black person emoji? It's like 2mm tall for pete's sake...half the time I can barely tell what the emoji is doing, let alone what its skin color happens to be. It's not like the emoji represents a significant portion of my expression, and I don't spend a lot of time thinking about them or using them...I think I'm more annoyed by that extra step I have to take in picking the skin color of my emoji that bothers me. So now I avoid the people emojis...problem solved. Of all the things to spend time thinking about in the world...

During the holiday season, there was a lot of discussion about when holiday pay started at work, and when it ended. I still don't know, but there was holiday pay on my paycheck so I figured that was good enough. But...I should probably know, so that if there were errors in the doling out of holiday pay, I could catch it and make it right. All that aside, a few coworkers and I got on the subject of holiday pay hours from jobs that we'd had previously. One of the guys in telemetry used to work for one of the local grocery store chains, and he said that during the application and interview process, management made a big deal about how the employees would receive holiday pay for Thanksgiving Day and Christmas Day. What the management didn't tell the employees until later was that the store closed at 3pm on Thanksgiving, and that it wasn't open at all on Christmas. So...really, they only got holiday pay for half of a day, one day a year. Not gonna lie, that seems a little dishonest, and why bother bringing it up at all? Honestly, most people would probably be more excited that they didn't have to work at all on Christmas than they would be about having to work and getting holiday pay. It just seemed like such an odd "benefit" to mention during the interview process, and I doubt most people base whether or not they take a job on the 2 days out of the year that holiday pay is offered. I just think it's funny the way management will sometimes manipulate a situation to make it seem better than it actually is, even if that situation is so trivial that it actually seems like more work to manipulate it in the first place. 

So there's that. I don't know if you've noticed (most likely not unless you work in the print industry), but I've been trying really hard to stop double-spacing after a period when I type. I was taught all those years ago that you had to double-space after a period to further denote the end of a sentence...apparently this stems from back in the day when people were using typewriters and all letters took up the same amount of space...meaning, a lowercase i took up the same space as a capital B. So it made sense back then to double-space at the end of a sentence so a person knew when one sentence ended and the other began. I'd have to think that the period would make that clear, but I wasn't using typewriters so I don't honestly know. Now that typefaces have changed to allow each letter to have its own individual space, there isn't a need to have so much extra space between sentences. A friend of mine who works in journalism has posted several grievances on Facebook about people who type letters to the editor and double-space after a period. Apparently it causes issues with the page layout and whatnot, meaning the editors have to go through and remove spaces one-by-one after every single sentence. So I've been making an effort to stop double-spacing (fun fact: Facebook automatically removes the double space behind a sentence and replaces it with a single space when you post something...so even when I double space on Facebook, it looks like I'm single-spacing). It's been really difficult to break my double-spacing habit. Partly because there is a certain satisfaction that comes with double spacing after a period...like "Whoo hoo! That sentence is DONE!" There's also that muscle memory associated with double-spacing...that's the hardest part. I'll be going along single-spacing, then all the sudden I have a full paragraph of double-spacing. Then I go back and take them out...quite the process. Good thing I don't have to do that for a living...sorry Adam, I am trying to be better! It still seems like a trivial thing to me, but now that it has my attention, I think about it...and I have to say, it looks weird to me, but I'll get over that with time. I'm sure there are simple oddities with my job too that would seem trivial to people outside the profession.

Simon and I saw Star Wars: The Force Awakens for the second time last night, and I have to say, I like it even more. I had read a few articles online about how some people were disappointed with some of the plot holes, some of the characters' behaviors, and some of the actors who ended up playing those characters. After seeing it a second time, I've come to the conclusion that those people need to find something else to do with their time. First of all, Star Wars isn't real...let's just throw that out there for all the people who seemed personally offended by the movie. I thought that this newest episode actually felt more like the first three (and by first three, I mean Episodes 4-6). It was light-hearted when it could be, but serious when it needed to be. I also liked that it had a lot of throwbacks to the some of the sayings and situations in Episodes 4-6, which a lot of fans seemed to appreciate (some thought it was a lack of imagination and that the writers were just recycling old material...I disagree). While I don't count myself amongst the many who thought episodes 1-3 were the worst movies ever made, I think Episode 7 was just as good as Episodes 4-6. And as for the plot holes...it was the first of 3 movies...they've got two more movies to clear up some of the things that left us guessing and scratching our heads...we have to trust in the writers and not get so worked up about it. Just relax and enjoy it for what it is...a fun action movie with recognizable characters. I will say, and this is a bit of a spoiler, I thought the whole scenario behind Poe's apparent rescue from Jakku after the TIE Fighter crash (and Finn being left behind) to his nonchalant appearance later on in the movie was rather weird. Who rescued him? Why did they leave Finn behind? How did the rescuers even know where Poe was? How did the rescuers get to Jakku before the First Order? And how did they get off Jakku without the First Order taking them out? That was my only beef with the movie...there was just a lack of details and some timeline issues surrounding the perceived death but actual rescue of an important character in the movie. But again, overall, a very good flick, and I'm looking forward to the next one. Is it 2017 yet??

And that's all she wrote! And by she, I mean me. Have a great Hump Day!        

Finding Mindfulness in the Simplest of Places

​In recent months, I've come to the realization that I am very influenced by negativity. I'd noticed that I had easily become swallowed by my own negativity, and that it was affecting my relationship with Simon, my outlook on my job, relationships with my friends and coworkers, and my own well-being in general. And I hated it. I hated me. I hated who I had become and what I was contributing to myself and to the people around me.

I've always been cynical and snarky, a glass-half-empty kind of person, if you will. Some people find it endearing that I don't beat around the bush and will say what everyone else is thinking...what everyone else is too polite to say out loud. Sometimes it can be funny to be cynical, but after a while, it permeates everything in my life, and I start being cynical about even the smallest of things. I swear far too much. You know you have a potty mouth when you are known in certain circles or are introduced to new people as "the one who swears a lot." Getting together and having a bitchfest with my friends now makes me feel sad and sometimes hopeless...is this what we have become? Is this what brings us joy in our lives? Our complaints are, for the most part, so insignificant, and nothing that a couple hours in a hot tub or a good hike in the woods can't cure. Granted, hiking around in the woods won't pay the bills (unless you happen to one of those lucky bastards I follow on Instagram who are sponsored by outdoor gear companies), but it can make us forget about them for a while. I've had to have conversations with friends about how we need to decrease our negative conversations and focus mostly on positive ones. Not that there's no room for venting frustrations...we all need that from time to time, but I've been trying to reevaluate what is a valid frustration that warrants verbal recognition, and what is complaining for complaining's sake.

My mom always used to say, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." I've found that it's much harder to take back a negative comment than a positive one. Just because something might be perceived to be true, doesn't mean it always needs to be said, especially if it is negative or hurtful. I came across some advice that I've mentioned in a previous blog about having meaningful conversation. Before speaking, ask yourself 3 things: Is it true? Is it necessary or relevant? Is it kind? Not that all conversation needs to be meaningful...many of the conversations I have are downright silly and irrelevant, but just thinking about the message I'm trying to convey can bring more meaning to what I'm saying.

I have a few friends who are glass-half-full types of people, and when I was wallowing in my negativity, I had a hard time being around them. I thought they viewed the world through rose colored glasses, and that there couldn't possibly be a way to find so much delight and fascination in life when all I wanted to do was verbally destroy it with my cynicism. If only I could get them to agree with me on how awful something appeared to be...just one thing...anything. How sad for them to try to have a meaningful conversation with me. How sad for me to be such a downer. So, if you are one of my glass-half-full friends and our interactions as of late have been scarce, please accept my apologies for my attitude...let's hang out and talk about all the good things in our lives that we've missed out on during our time apart.

I used to think that glass-half-full types suffered from a general lack of adversity, and that their excess positivity stemmed from an existence far less complicated than my own. I used to think that they were arguing with me for the sake of arguing, that there's no way anyone could find positivity in virtually every situation...turns out it was me who was doing most of the arguing, and that there is a way to put a positive spin on almost any situation. And then I started looking at the things I thought were complicating my life, and they amounted to such trivial things that I was embarrassed to be complaining out loud about them at all. Most adversities in my life could be dealt with quietly, by simply acknowledging that they were there, and then by rationally coming up with a plan of action. Is management of this adversity something that is within my control? And if so, what can I feasibly, realistically, and calmly do about it? If the adversity is not within my control, what steps can I take to accept that and move on while still obtaining a satisfactory resolution?

In embracing positivity, I've noticed that I'm much more sensitive to negativity. I interact with negative attitudes, and it puts me on edge. If I can't positively contribute, or if I recognize that positive contribution is futile, then I try not to engage at all. It's so weird to sit back and listen or disengage completely instead of joining in. Simon has noticed and verbalized appreciation for my new outlook. I wonder if anyone else has noticed? It's fair to say that I could pretty much be counted on to join in on and strongly contribute to conversations dominated by snark...that's just who I was and who I'm now working hard not to be. And believe it or not...I'm feeling better about myself, my relationships, and my job. There will always be frustrations, but I'm finding that adopting a positive attitude helps me to better deal with those frustrations. And not only to help me deal, but to feel better about the resolutions I come to, even if those resolutions aren't always overwhelmingly favorable. Those glass-half-full people are on to something!

Finding the humor in everyday life, and being an outright cynical asshole are two very different things. I want to be more of the former and try to eliminate the latter. I want to work on being funny and light-hearted without being such a douche. Maybe try watching the river go by, rather than jumping into it unnecessarily. I want to be a better listener, and to encourage others to do the same. I want to talk about light-hearted, simple things...I want to hear about people's kids and their pets, their trips and what makes them happy. I want to hear about their last good meal, their favorite kind of chocolate, their recent proud accomplishment. I don't want to talk so much about work and how awful it can sometimes be. I have to remind myself that of all the hospitals I've worked in, from world-class medical centers to hospitals in towns few people have heard of, this is the one I chose to stay at, and that there were good reasons for that decision. I know that for most of us, we spend a significant amount of time at our jobs, not out of desire, but out of necessity. And if we're not happy at work, then that unhappiness starts to spread to other aspects of our lives. This is a truth that I've been aware of for a long time. We all work, and for a lot of us, our job is not our passion...that's just how it is. A lot of us take our passion with us to our jobs, but if given the opportunity to financially make what I do as a nurse by hiking around in the woods looking at birds or by paddle boarding with manatees, I'd never set foot in a hospital again. I think I'm good at nursing...overall I like it quite a bit, and given my particular skill set, I think it was a good career choice for me. But there are barriers in place that prevent it from being my passion. Some I can control, some I can't. So, my hope is to do less of what I'm simply good at, and more of what I'm passionate about, and to somehow find a way to balance those two things in a meaningful, productive way.

Simon recently brought awareness to some struggles he was having with our relationship, and we talked about it. Like 2 adults. Without bitterness or anger or judgement or blame. I know, I know, to most people we seem like we've got all our ducks in a row, blissfully moving from place to place, photographically documenting it all for our friends and family to see. What could we possibly find to fight about? Who put the toilet paper roll on incorrectly? For the record, I find underhand to be the most correct, but I'm open to rational discussion on the topic. All jokes aside, Simon and I face adversity in our relationship just like anyone else. I don't think it would be fair to say that we never fight, but we rarely fight. We've found a comfort level in our relationship that allows us to openly communicate our frustrations before they reach the point of yelling, blaming, and hurt feelings. Mind games and manipulation have no place in our relationship, and those things certainly wouldn't help us manage what adversities might come our way. Adversity doesn't have to end in negativity and pointed fingers and hopelessness and anger. I think Paul said it best in Corinthians 13: 4-7..."Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." I've always loved that verse, and feel it can be universally applied not just to those we love, but to those we want to have in our lives.

Adversity will always be there, it's up to us to decide how we're going to respond to it. I've been working very hard on picking my battles, in deciding what is worth my emotional engagement, and what isn't. Instead of verbally escalating a situation, I quietly ruminate on it and try to come up with an action plan. I try to decide what is worth pursuing and what is better to just let go. It's a work in progress, and takes daily focus. Some days are better than others, but I've reached the point where I'm tired of carrying around my cynicism, sarcasm, and negativity like a badge of honor. People respond better to my positivity than to my negativity, and I'm trying to purposefully be aware of that. Life's far too short to go through it with a bad attitude.

This year for Christmas, Simon bought me a book called The 5 Minute Journal. It's not a journal in the traditional sense of writing a narrative, but more of a lead-by-suggestion style of writing. Every morning I write down three things that I'm grateful for, three things that would make my day great, and a personal daily affirmation. In the evening, just before bed, I'm supposed to write down three things that were great about my day, and two things that I could have done to make my day even better. Being the skeptical cynic that I am, I had my doubts about how often I would use it, and if I would even get anything out of it. Flipping through it, I wondered if I could even find three things a day to be grateful for. But, given that Simon put a fair amount of thought into this gift, all the while knowing my skeptical nature, I decided to give it a try, if only to show him that I appreciated his gift. Little did I know that that little journal would be the spearhead of my new positivity movement. I never would have thought that naming three things I'm grateful for could have changed my outlook on life so much. I started out struggling with the three grateful things. At first I was trying to be lofty and thoughtful, and when that got frustrating, I got trivial. I was grateful for the heated mattress pad. I was grateful for winter boots. I was grateful for sleeping in. And little by little, I realized that being grateful doesn't have to be about the big things in life...the little things are just as important, and can make you feel just as good as the big things, but with greater frequency. Now I struggle with naming only three things I'm grateful for. And this all happened within the span of about a week or two...I've only been using the journal since the first of the year, but it's kind of changed my life. Who knew? Simon, apparently. Another case of him knowing me better than I know myself...or perhaps he just knows what's better for me than I do. Maybe it's a little of both.

I truly am grateful for so many things in my life, and until recently, it seemed I was taking all of those things for granted. I was focusing too much on what I didn't have, while ignoring all the good things I had sitting right in front of me. They include but are not limited to:

-I have a good job working with great people.

-I have a cozy apartment filled with my favorite things...this has become more apparent since the continual downsizing.

-I have money to buy the things I need, and enough left over to splurge on the things I want.

-I have a boyfriend I can talk to...not just about the easy things, but the hard things too.

-I have a little dog who loves me to pieces, even though he doesn't snuggle as much as I would like.

-I have friends and family all over the country who I miss terribly, and who I don't see nearly enough, but I'm so grateful for the bits and pieces of time we have together.

-I am safe. I am warm. I am healthy. I have everything I need.

-I have a plan that involves the open road, America's and maybe even Canada's national parks, and living big in a little space.

I will be making changes in the next few months. Some big, some little. Some because I have to, most because I want to. I think in life you should always strive to be as happy as possible...if you don't like your job, your boyfriend, where you live...change it. I know it sounds overly simple, and everyone's life has its own specific complications, but if you want something bad enough, you'll find a way to get it. It might not happen overnight, but I truly think that anything worth doing is worth doing well and with intention. Don't be rash, and take your time, but make strides to find your happiness. Have a goal in mind, and work towards it.

Sometimes when I hear myself say these things out loud, it makes me sound like a dreamer, like there's no way to remain consistently positive and still take life seriously. Maybe that's the point of all this introspection. Maybe life shouldn't be taken so seriously.

The Period Blog: Part 3, The Final Chapter

Ah, here we are again, talking about periods.  Well, I'm talking about it...you're reading about it.  Or not...I talked to a few friends (mostly men) who said that they skipped my period blogs entirely, which didn't surprise me, truth be told.  Although I was surprised by my friend Jim, who told me that he had read both of my previous period blogs.  When I asked him why he didn't skip them, he simply responded, "Because I read all your blogs."  That made me smile.  Most men don't like to think about the idea of women having periods, despite the fact that most men live with women who have periods, and truth be told, the more they know about their woman's period, maybe the better they would be to support their lady counter-parts through it.  But perhaps not...when I'm in the throes of full-on menstrual badness, sometimes the the only things I want are to be left alone with a good book, bag of Doritos, and a pile of chocolate. 

So, when I last left off with my period, I was in full-on experimentation with the menstrual cup.  I had forfeited the first one in the hopes that the second one would be more successful.  Well, it wasn't.  Granted, the second cup was marginally better than the first, but given that the first one was pretty much a fail, marginally better wasn't really better at all.  I don't really know what went wrong, as I read review after review after review from women claiming nothing but success and love for their menstrual cups.  Of course, there were those reviews that were nothing but horror stories, and while my experience didn't fall under the category of horror story, it wasn't a positive experience either.  I spent three months worth of periods thinking that I was either anatomically weird, or mechanically inept at getting the cup to function properly.  I never did figure out what the problem was.  I read all the tips and tricks posted on various cup manufacturer's websites, I watched videos and read reviews until I figured that I couldn't possibly learn anything more about cup insertion and maintenance, and still I just couldn't get the thing to work better than your average tampon.  Given that there was a level of trust with a tampon that just wasn't there with the cups, the cups were removed from the rotation.  I don't know what to do with them...it's not like it's something that I can just give to someone else to try, although I did sterilize them...it would be perfectly safe to pass on to someone else, and given that I spent about $50 between the two of them, it would seem a waste of money to just throw them away.  But people are squeamish about that sort of thing.  So I have $50 in medical grade silicone menstrual products just hanging out in a little tote under the sink in the bathroom.

Specific issues with the cups, for those who want to know.  Getting the thing in was a struggle.  Every. Single. Time.  It never got easier.  Picture me doing yoga above the toilet with my pants around my ankles, somewhere between a squat and what would appear to be the start-off position of a sommersalt.  Well, you don't have to picture me, exactly, but someone...anyone, really.  A tube of lube clutched in one hand (because the reviews said it would be easier to get it in...it was easier, but that didn't solve the problem), and the notorious cup clutched in the other.  The cup ideally would have already been folded in either the "7," the "C," or the "W."  I tried all three.  The "C" seemed to work the best, but I still failed at it more often than I succeeded.  Apparently you're supposed to feel the thing pop open inside you...I guess that's how you know it's in there properly.  I never once felt the pop...with either cup.  In the event that I did get the thing in what seemed to be properly, it never did form that perfect seal that all the women reviewers raved about.  I was lucky if I got 2 hours out of the thing before I was having to take it out and empty it...not because I was filling it up, but because the thing would always spring a leak.  Coughing, sneezing, laughing, and changing positions suddenly came with a very real measure of fear.  During the three months that I was trialing the cups, I made sure to do as little as possible to give myself the best chance of success with the cups, and still was met with failure.  The one time I contemplated going to the gym with it, I had visions of the janitorial staff coming in with their hazmat gear to clean up what would very likely have been a mess during the squat track of my weight-lifting class.  No thanks.  If I couldn't get the cup to work when I was lying around on the couch, there was no way I was going anywhere in public with it.  Bummer for me.     

I don't want to deter anyone from trying out a cup though...out of everyone I know who has tried them, I'm the only one who never got it to work.  I think if the concept of it is something that you're interested in, then it's definitely worth a shot.  And if you're not squeamish, I have 2 different ones I'm that I'm willing to give away!!  I know, weird, but there it is anyway.  I will say, the best thing that came out of this whole alternative period lifestyle experiment was the discovery of the reusable fabric panty liners.  They really are awesome, and they work way better and are far more comfortable than the disposeable ones that you buy in the store...and, this might be TMI, but they don't have that weird smell...you know the one...kinda smells like a baby diaper.  I already despair at my nether regions during my period...having them reminiscent of a baby diaper is just insult to injury.  I tried a few different reusable liners, and the brand that I like the best is called The Essence of Eve (not a fan of the name, but then again, I'm not a fan of much of anything period related, so there you go).  You can find them in a shop on Etsy...they're made by a few gals in Utah, and demand has been so high for them that they sell out usually within hours of posting new stock.  With good reason.  They're great.  A pack of 7 will run you about $37...granted, it would take a while to recoup that cost in traditional panty liners, but the comfort more than makes up for that.  In my opinion, of course.

So, now that I've failed at the cup and am almost back where I started on my period journey, what's next?  Well, since I've labeled this the final chapter of the period blog, I've decided to do something more permanent about my monthly visitor.  I'm not interested in an IUD or going back on birth control pills...my body doesn't respond well to hormones, and the thought of having something permanently up in there gives me limp wrists.  I know a lot of women have success with and love their IUD's, but I just can't stomach the thought of them.  So, I'm going to start researching uterine ablation, which I mentioned briefly in my previous period blog.  It's a surgical procedure, and given that I work in healthcare and get to see all kinds of surgeries run amok, I'm moderately terrified by the idea.  Funny...the thought of a little piece of metal hanging out in my uterus gives me the heebie jeebies, but burning the crap out of my uterine lining?  That seems like a good idea...hahaha!  But...I'm currently halfway through this month's period, and I'm just over it.  I'm done.  I'm not interested in having children, my uterus is doing absolutely nothing but making me miserable for a quarter of the year, and my period literally serves no purpose whatsoever (other than to give me that brief moment of delight that I'm not pregnant).  So I'm going to do something about it.  Given that I was diagnosed with a type of endometriosis a couple years back (endometriosis is the phenomenon where uterine tissue starts growing in places it has no business growing...in my case, the tissue is growing inside the muscle that makes up the body of the uterus...harmless, for the most part, but it makes for painful and sometimes irregular periods), I doubt the ablation procedure will rid me of all period symptoms...I'm sure I'll still get the bloat, some cramps, the moodiness, and most certainly the wacky food cravings...ablation doesn't affect the hormone-producing ovaries, after all...but to have the ability to rid myself of the bleeding?  I'll take it. 

I should have done it a long time ago, but I just wasn't that inconvenienced enough by my periods to bother with it.  And it's not that I'm any more inconvenienced now than I was 2 years or even 2 months ago, it's just that I'm tired of being inconvenienced by it at all.  The thought of toughing out month after month of periods until menopause, knowing that the older I get the more awful they become (they're already worse now than they were 5 years ago), is just maddening.  And truth to be told, given that my periods just can't be bothered to be regular, traveling has been a bit of an obstacle because of it.  And I travel a lot...and there's a very real possibility in the next year or so that Simon and I will spend a significant amount of our time on the road traveling.  And having a period on a road trip or on vacation when available bathrooms might be scarce or nonexistent?  That's just terrible.  I'm pretty non-discriminatory when it comes to taking a pee or a poop...the side of the road will do in a pinch for those things.  But the period is not so gracious...it can't be held back by the simple act of squirming in the seat or practicing one's kegels.  Once it's there, it's there, and if not dealt with in a timely manner can result in the appearance of a small-scale crime scene.  The thought of doing a back-packing trip in the Grand Canyon while on my period sounds like one of the worst ideas ever...especially since bears can apparently smell the menstruation, and we all know how I feel about bears.  So we'll see.  I know there are a few doctors here in town who do ablation procedures, and I know a few women who have had it done who would be more than willing to give me a referral.  I just need to pick a time to do it...and find a way to pay for it, as I'm sure insurance doesn't cover that sort of thing.  Too bad I can't take the insurance benefit that I would have gotten for having children and apply it to not having children.  Can I also petition for non-maternity leave as well?  Too far? 

It's kind of funny (not funny-haha...funny-weird) to think about voluntarily and permanently making myself unable to become pregnant, when I know of several families who would give anything to be able to conceive.  Although, given that I'm not super vigilant in prevention and I've never had a legit pregnancy scare, my own fertility is questionable.  In making the decision to pursue a permanent form of birth control, I'm fighting all those long-held ideals that for years told me that I wouldn't become an adult, my life wouldn't have a bigger purpose, until I had children.  As if having children was a right of passage that should be mandatory and unquestioned, rather than optional and open for debate.  I always thought that I would someday want children, and at 36, that day still just hasn't come.  I've developed a life that I love, and children just don't fit into it.  I know that people change and there are those women out there having their first child well into their 40's and 50's, but I don't think that'll be me either.  I think some women are destined to have children, and some women are not.  I don't have the temperament or the desire to become a mother, so I'm choosing not to become one.  Sounds simple, but this was a stressful decision that was years in the making, and it didn't come easy.  But here I am.  And I'm not blowing off children simply because I hate having a period, I'm blowing off the period because I'm not having children.

So there it is.  The final chapter of the period blog.  Hopefully there won't be a follow-up blog detailing how I had my intestines scalded during the ablation procedure (apparently that's a rare adverse event...yikes!).  In any event, for those of you still struggling with a period or living with someone who does, you have my sympathies.  Carry on.               

 

A Resolution of Sorts...

Every year I say that I'm not going to do a New Year's resolution, and almost every year I end up doing one anyway.  I don't even remember what my resolution from last year was...I suppose I could look back through my blog posts and figure it out, because I'm sure I wrote about it, but I can't be bothered to care right this moment.  The reasoning is two-fold...either the resolution became a way of life and I don't care to reflect on what I was doing beforehand, or the resolution fizzled out and I don't care to be made aware of my failure to make a meaningful change.  My life is pretty good as-is, so I'll just go with that.

My resolution for 2016 might come as a surprise to most people in my life.  I've actually only talked about it with a few people, mostly because it's difficult to empathize with, and partly because it's something that seems at odds with how I've been living my life since, well, forever.  Another reason not to mention it all that much is my previous disdain for the whole idea.

I've decided that I'm going to stop eating mammals.  I know, I know, to some people I'm known as the bacon-monster...that there is no such thing as too much bacon, so how could I possibly cut myself off from eating something that previously gave me so much culinary delight?  It's rather simple, come to find out.  I've actually been practicing the no-mammals thing for most of December, and despite my fears that it would be life-changing (in a bad way), as of this writing today, it really hasn't been much of a struggle at all.

For one, I think the ease of cutting out mammals comes from the fact that this is a choice that I made myself.  No one told me that I could no longer eat pork or beef...it was my decision to do so.  Those are always the easiest decisions to make.  For two, the consumption of mammals has been relatively easy to avoid.  I've been trying new vegetarian dishes, and while they're not always as satisfying as a burger, some of them are actually quite good.  I've also been eating more fish and seafood, and I've really been enjoying that.  I still eat chicken, but I've been trying to cut down on that as well.  Baby steps, you see. 

I'm definitely a meat-eater at heart, but I started with mammals because I don't eat much beef or pork to begin with, so it was easier to cut them out.  When I do cook at home (which is a rarity these days), I tend to make breakfast food, something with chicken in it, or something that has no meat in it at all simply because I'm lazy and don't want to take the time to prepare it.  Cutting out beef and pork at home was probably the easiest part of this.  I can't even remember the last time I bought beef...nor pork, for that matter.  I do have a couple jars of bacon drippings still hanging out in the freezer...if any of you from Flagstaff would like them, let me know, otherwise I'm probably just going to throw them away.

Going out to eat has been more of a challenge, but again, not as difficult as I had thought it would be.  Given the diversity of most menus at restaurants, I've been able to order something either vegetarian or with sea food that's been rather enjoyable.  I can't remember where I was, but sometime in early December I had a hamburger somewhere, and it just didn't sit well afterwards.  I don't know if it was psychological or if maybe the meat wasn't super fresh or very good quality or what, but it just kind of reaffirmed my idea to cut it out completely.

I think what has been the weirdest and most surprising thing of all, is that I don't miss eating beef and pork.  When I started out with this idea, I really thought it would be more of a struggle, but it hasn't been.  I guess it's just one of those things that once you get over the idea of it being gone, you just get over it and move on.  I went through this a few years ago with Doritos.  Once I made up my mind to quit buying them, I just did and nothing bad happened.  I just ate other things.  I still occasionally will binge on Doritos (I really think there's crack in those things), and I pretty much always pay for it in one way or another, but I enjoy them differently now.  They're an indulgence and I appreciate them more when I do allow myself to have some...or the whole bag...you know, might as well make it worth it, right? 

Now to the "why," because people always care about that part, as if maybe my justification for not eating something that they enjoy will help clarify why I'm not eating mammals.  It's funny how much people have been paying attention to my diet since I stopped eating mammals in December.  Well, I should clarify...the ones who knew I wasn't eating mammals versus the ones who didn't.  The ones who didn't know didn't notice, but the ones who did know suddenly became very interested in everything I ate.  Some almost appeared offended that I was no longer eating meat, as if I was insulting them by cutting something out of my own personal diet, but that they still enjoyed.  I was quite taken aback by it at first, but then I remembered how weirded out I was over the years when some of my friends became vegetarians...I felt that I had to defend myself for eating meat.  I asked the same questions then that my friends are asking me now: "But what about bacon?"  It always comes back to the bacon...hahaha!  "You're never going to eat meat again?"  I don't know...maybe, maybe not.  I can't answer that question at the moment, not knowing how this dietary change will affect me.  "What are you, some kind of hippie?"  Those damn, dirty hippies, turning all us regular folks against bacon.  "God put animals on this earth for us to eat."  I love that one...if he truly did put animals on this earth for us to eat, did he intend for us to treat them the way they're treated in huge factory farms (I'll touch on that later)?  I think not.

I feel as though the meat eaters in my life are going to hold me to stricter rules than I hold myself, that the first time I eat pork or beef (whether on purpose or by accident), they're going to be right there pointing fingers and exposing my lack of will.  I honestly think this change would go over better if meat simply made me sick, so then I would have a physical rationalization for cutting it out, rather than a psychological or philosophical reason for doing so.   

I guess the main reasons I'm no longer eating mammals are multi-factorial.  One of the things that put this idea in my head was a trip to Gilbert, AZ several years ago.  My brother lived down there, and in order to get to his house, I had to drive past several large dairy operations.  The smell was unlike anything I've ever smelled in my life...the putrid stench of urine and feces was unbearable.  And it gave me pause...do I really want to consume anything that comes out of a place that smells like that?  Granted, that was a dairy farm, not a beef farm, but beef feedlots are quite similar.  Drive on I-80 through Nebraska, or I-40 through north Texas, or take a trip outside Greeley, Colorado (there's a reason it's called "Cow-Sh*t City) and you'll smell the feedlots before you even lay eyes on them, depending on which way the wind is blowing.  Nothing but cattle as far as the eye can see, not a single blade of grass for them to stand on, to lie down on, to eat.  Most of the pens don't even have shelters for the animals in the event of inclement weather.  It's just gross, and here in America, that's where the majority of our meat comes from.  I don't like the idea of it from an animal welfare standpoint, but what continues to be the "ick" factor for me is the smell.  I just can't get past it.  I don't think any living creature should be made to live in those conditions, and certainly not for my benefit.

Another reason I no longer want to consume mammals is because, truth be told, I enjoy them.  I love pigs and cows.  I think they're funny, silly little creatures with personalities, and with a capacity to learn, to feel enjoyment, pain, and fear.  Pigs are actually smarter than some breeds of dogs (ahem, pugs), and despite their reputation for being dirty, they are actually quite clean creatures if given the opportunity and the space to do so.  I'll never forget a friend's story about a pig they were raising, and how he would rifle though the table scraps looking for the strawberry tops, and how he would close his eyes and smack his lips, getting so much enjoyment out of the little bits of fruit that still clung to the greens.  He eventually met the fate of most pigs and became food for the people who were raising him, but what a life he had right up until then.  And that's the thing...I guess I feel that if you're going to eat an animal that has the capacity to enjoy life, then at least let it enjoy that life while it has the time to do so.  Let it eat strawberries, let it run around in the grass, give it shelter, keep it safe, keep it healthy...you know, all those things that us people feel we deserve for ourselves.

Of course, I'm fully aware that fish and chickens are also capable of feeling pain.  And maybe at a more primitive level, are capable of enjoyment and fear.  In a perfect world, I would have all kinds of time and research and options to cut animal consumption out of my life completely (Whoa...did I just make a vague reference to becoming vegan?  Certainly not...), but Rome was not built in a day, and changing years of eating habits won't happen overnight.  I know that factory chicken farms are pretty gross, and the thought of all those birds being stuffed into a big building with little fresh air, no access to the outdoors, and no access to bugs, grass and other things that they might find given the chance to roam on their own.  I see the term "vegetarian fed" on cartons of eggs in the store and find it confusing...chickens love to eat bugs and worms and little lizards and all kinds of little living creatures.  Eating nothing but a vegetarian diet isn't what they would naturally be eating.  Although, maybe saying "vegetarian fed" just means that there's no animal by-products in their feed, which is a good thing, I guess.  I am also perfectly aware that the dairy industry is just as bad, if not worse, than the beef industry when it comes to animal welfare.  In fact, I'm almost certain that the dairy industry is worse...but I love cheese.  I honestly think I could give up almost all other forms of animal products if I could just keep my cheese.  I tell myself that dairy cows don't have to die for me to have cheese, but I've seen large scale dairy operations...the cows are treated terribly, and it's true that there are fates worse than death.  I just can't cut out everything all at once and still expect to have any sort of success with it.  So these are the current lines that have been drawn: No pork, no beef.  Will work on the rest at a later date.

I have been trying to be better about obtaining what meat I do eat from responsible sources.  There are a few small farms here in the area that specialize in chickens, eggs, dairy, goat dairy, etc.  There are even some that have been certified humane for their beef and pork production.  If I can't raise it myself, then the least I can do is try to make sure that someone else is raising it right.  I really miss our egg co-op...that was the best.  Those were the happiest chickens I had ever seen, and certainly the best eggs I have ever eaten.  They spent all day running around the yard, digging through the compost, eating bugs, and laying eggs with reckless abandon.  They were friendly and funny and most of them didn't bat an eye about being picked up or petted.  They used to follow us around hoping that we would open the feed bin and give them a little snack.  There is a milking-goat farm in a nearby town that I want to go see.  Mostly because I think goats are hilarious, but partly because the farm is a small operation and produces some really good goat cheese.  I like to support the little guys when I can.           

From an environmental standpoint, the raising of large mammals for food just isn't efficient.  Here in America we really don't care all that much about it because currently, we're not wanting for anything.  We have it really good here, and all our needs are met.  But at what cost?  Water, for one.  Raising large animals for food consumes mass quantities of water, and at a time when the western half of the country is crying out for water (yet they're still watering their yards...go figure...that needs to stop, and the golf courses need to stop right along with it...ridiculous to be in a drought and still watering golf courses...but I digress...), we're using vast quantities of water on huge amounts of cattle for an excessive amount of meat.  Another detrimental side-effect of the meat industry is pollution...both water, air, and land pollution.  I won't get too in-depth on this topic, mostly because I still have a lot of research to do, and I've already made the decision to refrain from mammals, so this ideology kind of takes care of itself, I guess.  There is a documentary called Cowspiracy that delves into the environmental impact of raising animals for food.  I haven't watched it yet, mostly because I know I'm going to be saddened and disgusted, but partially because most of the reviewers who have watched it make comments about how they became vegan immediately after watching it.  I'm guessing it's a pretty powerful flick, and I'm a coward to keep putting it off, but I'm just not ready.  I don't know if I'll ever be.  What is seen cannot be unseen.         

I have a friend (and a very inspirational vegetarian-esque eater) who no longer labels herself as a vegetarian due to the fact that she's started to add chicken back into her diet due to her body's dietary needs.  She's said she quit using the label of vegetarian because it wasn't accurate if she was eating chicken, and because she didn't care for all the criticism she was getting for providing her body with nutrition from sources that she had previously ruled out.  And to be fair, this girl was never the type of vegetarian who scorned people for eating meat.  It was her choice, and her choice alone...everyone else was free to eat as they pleased.  She was well-informed and ready with a wealth of information as to why she wasn't eating meat should anyone ask.  And I guess that's kind of why I hesitate to label myself as this-thing or that-thing...people are always quick to judge when you label yourself as one thing and then fall outside the established parameters of it.  When really, I'm the only one who should really care about what I'm eating or not eating.  And honestly, the only reason I'm really sharing any of this is because that's what you do with your friends...you share things.  I honestly didn't want to say anything to anyone about it at all, knowing that it would be difficult to understand and that I would be met with resistance.  But honestly, I think most of my friends will be supportive...not that I expect them to cater to my dietary choices, but if we're having dinner together and they choose to make chicken instead of pork, well, that would be awesome.  Personal dietary choices are just that...personal.  

So, now that that's all out in the open, it's time for the disclaimer.  I don't expect anyone to cater to my dietary restrictions.  Just because I'm not eating some forms of meat, doesn't mean that I expect everyone else to refrain as well.  This is my choice, and my choice alone (well, Simon is doing it too, which is helpful because he's more strong-willed than I am...he's actually been cutting out meat for longer than I have).  I said from the beginning that I don't want my dietary choices to affect my relationships with my friends and family.  Food is a huge part of being social, and I don't want people to feel like they can't invite me over for dinner because I might judge them for eating pork or beef.  I won't judge what others are eating, and while I might not partake in eating beef or pork the vast majority of the time, there is a chance that I just might use dinner with friends as a chance to indulge...much like my Dorito binges.  One of my last meals of 2015 was a Polish-style pork cutlet prepared by my friend's wife, who happens to be from Poland.  It's one of her specialties, and honestly, when I am going to get the opportunity to have Polish food prepared by a Polish person?  It was absolutely fantastic, by the way...a perfect indulgence.  And I can't go back to Minnesota and not eat Tater Tot Hotdish (although I have made it with ground chicken...tastes almost exactly the same).  My friendships are so important to me, and I'm not going to let dietary choices get in the way of that.  As long as there is a mutual respect there (my choice to not eat it versus their choice to eat it), I don't think there will be a problem.   

We'll see...this is all so new that I have no idea how it's going to go, but I'm not the first meat-eater in the history of meat-eaters to become mostly vegetarian.  I don't expect enthusiastic support in my dietary choices, but at a minimum I do ask for for indifference, and definitely would appreciate that any ridicule be kept to a minimum.  I realize this is difficult, but it truly should only be difficult for me.  Honestly, if I truly wanted to be difficult, I would just give up beer...but that's never going to happen.  I just learned today that beer (the barley in beer, to be exact) has a decent amount of nutritional value.  And here I've been wasting all this money on multivitamins.  Go figure.