The past few weeks have been nothing but a whirlwind of doctor's appointments and waiting. Waiting for a treatment plan to materialize. My surgeon told me the tumor block had to be sent to California, not so that Arnold could kick it's ass, not so that it would fall of the party boat into Lake Havasu, but rather so that it could be analyzed and compared against the tumors of thousands of other women. Other women whose presentation and outcome might have been much different than mine. Other women who have gone before me, had surgery and treatments, whose outcomes had been measured and would now form the basis for my treatment.
Surgery on the 2nd meant that surely the tumor would be winging it's way West by the time of my first follow up with the surgeon. No, not December 11th. Surely I couldn't have believed it would go so quickly. There were labs to call, plans to be made. Well, then perhaps by the time I saw the oncologist on the 15th! Uhm, no, still not in the mail. However, we should know soon. Soon it was the 22nd and the radiation oncologist told me that no results were received as of yet. It is only on the eve of my next oncology appointment that I am informed that the tumor was sent the 18th. Three weeks after surgery. And with two weeks processing time it would be over a month until I knew the outcome. Disgusted I stayed home yesterday instead of making my appointment at the Dyson Center. The valet parking boys could park someone else's car. I was not playing the "how are you feeling? Fine. We have no information yet..." game.
So I wait. Today comes the call that I have to inform the lab in Ca. that it is okay to release the results to my MD. Apparently I can't have the results released to me. I have to wait yet another long weekend before I know what lies before me.
What a way to welcome the New Year. Waiting.
31 December 2009
03 December 2009
And so there may come a time when things change
I have spent the past 6 months in blissful ignorance. The work continues on my house. I now have a great new bedroom with a fabulous closet, something my old room lacked. The front of my house has been sided. Beautifully by my brother who took pride in designing the board and batten scheme. Interior walls have come down, floors have been changed, new lighting going up in the morning. My little cottage is almost finished and all should be well with the world.
I have spent more time these past few months with my brother and sister than I have in years. I have enjoyed every minute; our talks, sharing of memories, slide shows and dinner. Life was grand and I was in a good spot.
And then, a lump. A lump is all it was. One cm. Not much of a lump. How could I not have missed it? It isn't as though there is a family history of breast cancer. And besides at the same time our Pops was in the hospital having his own cancer surgery. One that involved PET scans and scares of monumental proportions. And our little sister had two lungs full of clots. That seemed to be enough for us to handle right now. And on top of it all I had already had cancer. An easy one. Thyroid. I jokingly told anyone who would listen that it was wise to pick out your cancer early as we'd all likely get it at some point in our lives. And I had beat them all to the punch by having thyroid cancer. Smug. That was me. Before last Tuesday.
I hopped out of the shower last week and in drying myself I felt a lump. It's not like I went looking for it. It presented itself to me, so I wouldn't miss it. All evening long I'd go back to that lump to see if it still survived. And it did. The morning brought a phone call to the breast surgeon and within a week I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had the tumor removed.
I sit home now wondering at how lucky I am. Had I missed the lump, had I ignored the lump, how different things would be. I am reminded of why I am here, what lesson I have been sent to learn. Don't covet, don't lust for that which is not yours. And keep your eyes open. You might miss something.
I have spent more time these past few months with my brother and sister than I have in years. I have enjoyed every minute; our talks, sharing of memories, slide shows and dinner. Life was grand and I was in a good spot.
And then, a lump. A lump is all it was. One cm. Not much of a lump. How could I not have missed it? It isn't as though there is a family history of breast cancer. And besides at the same time our Pops was in the hospital having his own cancer surgery. One that involved PET scans and scares of monumental proportions. And our little sister had two lungs full of clots. That seemed to be enough for us to handle right now. And on top of it all I had already had cancer. An easy one. Thyroid. I jokingly told anyone who would listen that it was wise to pick out your cancer early as we'd all likely get it at some point in our lives. And I had beat them all to the punch by having thyroid cancer. Smug. That was me. Before last Tuesday.
I hopped out of the shower last week and in drying myself I felt a lump. It's not like I went looking for it. It presented itself to me, so I wouldn't miss it. All evening long I'd go back to that lump to see if it still survived. And it did. The morning brought a phone call to the breast surgeon and within a week I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had the tumor removed.
I sit home now wondering at how lucky I am. Had I missed the lump, had I ignored the lump, how different things would be. I am reminded of why I am here, what lesson I have been sent to learn. Don't covet, don't lust for that which is not yours. And keep your eyes open. You might miss something.
13 June 2009
Darlings, I see light at the end of the tunnel
One day about 4 months ago my brother showed up to transform my house. The front room was to become a bedroom, complete with closet. The back of the house was to be opened up into one large room for living purposes. Now I say large but really it's not too large at all as my hacienda was once a store in a little village north of the Tappanzee in NYS. As the years went by it housed an elderly couple for many decades and then younger couple bought the house, did minor updates and moved out, asking a fortune for what it was. I was able to past this hot mess and see the building's potential, bought the place and the conversion slowly began.
My bedoom is all but finished. I have a closet now with recessed lighting and lots of hanging room. I have new windows which open, a major move forward as the house still had the original store shop windows after all of these years. I only need the crown moulding to appear and the door to be finished and viola' ... on to step two.
Only step two will not be taking down the interior walls as I'd hoped. No, instead it will be replacing the ceiling in the dining room. One day about 6 weeks ago I noted that a wall in that room was wet. Then I noted that the ceiling was ready to burst with water. After several drill holes the ceiling drained. And after another visit by my brother the water pipe in the attic was plugged. Meanwhile this fix has become a priority in my life as I'd love to get rid of swiss cheese that pretends to be ceiling board in that room.
Sometimes I look around and think why in hell did you buy this place anyway? You could have bought a real house. Like a building which was residential since it's inception. But what would be the fun of that? It may take another couple years but eventually I will have a little cottage in the 'burg, one that I've designed myself. I'll have french doors and skylights, a place that I can grow old in. And when I'm lying on the sofa, looking toward the sky someday I will see the stars.
I hope.
My bedoom is all but finished. I have a closet now with recessed lighting and lots of hanging room. I have new windows which open, a major move forward as the house still had the original store shop windows after all of these years. I only need the crown moulding to appear and the door to be finished and viola' ... on to step two.
Only step two will not be taking down the interior walls as I'd hoped. No, instead it will be replacing the ceiling in the dining room. One day about 6 weeks ago I noted that a wall in that room was wet. Then I noted that the ceiling was ready to burst with water. After several drill holes the ceiling drained. And after another visit by my brother the water pipe in the attic was plugged. Meanwhile this fix has become a priority in my life as I'd love to get rid of swiss cheese that pretends to be ceiling board in that room.
Sometimes I look around and think why in hell did you buy this place anyway? You could have bought a real house. Like a building which was residential since it's inception. But what would be the fun of that? It may take another couple years but eventually I will have a little cottage in the 'burg, one that I've designed myself. I'll have french doors and skylights, a place that I can grow old in. And when I'm lying on the sofa, looking toward the sky someday I will see the stars.
I hope.
11 June 2009
...and the end of civility as we knew it.
What became of respect? Respect for individuals, respect for professionals, respect amongst adults? I have my theories including the need for immediate information, the rise of the internet (darn Al Gore) which provides too much information for many to truly understand and the focus on oneself. It's all about me and I want it now seems to be the new motto.
This week at work the loss of civility was driven home in a big way. On Tuesday a family member approached the desk and started hounding me with questions about his father, questions laced with his favorite word apparently. That word begins with 'f '. As civilly as I could I told said gentleman that I would not be answering any questions about his father's protected health information particularly in light of his own language and behaviors. Instead of being a calming influence on his behaviors my intervention caused this son to escalate to proportions where a security officer in the hospital had to be called. All because a middle aged man couldn't approach the desk and simply ask, "Could you tell me what's going on with my father's tests?"
Later that day I was coming out of a patient's room on one end of a very long hall. At the far end were two middle aged men, outside the ICU. What were they doing? Their behaviors seemed so incongruous to the setting. As I moved closer I noted that arms were flailing, one man had the other in a head lock and legs were going everywhere. My lord the two men were having a fist fight. Like in a bar, or so I'm told. As I neared the scene of the crime I find one man with a moderately severe head laceration, the other with his clothes literally ripped off his back. We soon found out that these two men are brothers, fighting over the care of their elderly mother who is in the Intensive Care Unit. Yes as an elderly woman is struggling for each breath while making her peace with the world her sons are out in the hall beating the crap out of each other.
All because the two could not go together into the lounge and have a peaceful conversation about their mom's situation and how it should be resolved.
Does this lack of common decency come at the price of a society moving too fast to remember the little things? Or is the fact that manners are no longer being taught by either parents at home or teachers in school. Sometimes I think our hectic pace makes it impossible to take the time to be gracious and civil and I long for a time before cell phones and the internet. For simpler times when manners were emphasized.
Yet I fear it's too late much the same as the babble coming out of Sarah Palin's mouth somehow passes for intelligence.
This week at work the loss of civility was driven home in a big way. On Tuesday a family member approached the desk and started hounding me with questions about his father, questions laced with his favorite word apparently. That word begins with 'f '. As civilly as I could I told said gentleman that I would not be answering any questions about his father's protected health information particularly in light of his own language and behaviors. Instead of being a calming influence on his behaviors my intervention caused this son to escalate to proportions where a security officer in the hospital had to be called. All because a middle aged man couldn't approach the desk and simply ask, "Could you tell me what's going on with my father's tests?"
Later that day I was coming out of a patient's room on one end of a very long hall. At the far end were two middle aged men, outside the ICU. What were they doing? Their behaviors seemed so incongruous to the setting. As I moved closer I noted that arms were flailing, one man had the other in a head lock and legs were going everywhere. My lord the two men were having a fist fight. Like in a bar, or so I'm told. As I neared the scene of the crime I find one man with a moderately severe head laceration, the other with his clothes literally ripped off his back. We soon found out that these two men are brothers, fighting over the care of their elderly mother who is in the Intensive Care Unit. Yes as an elderly woman is struggling for each breath while making her peace with the world her sons are out in the hall beating the crap out of each other.
All because the two could not go together into the lounge and have a peaceful conversation about their mom's situation and how it should be resolved.
Does this lack of common decency come at the price of a society moving too fast to remember the little things? Or is the fact that manners are no longer being taught by either parents at home or teachers in school. Sometimes I think our hectic pace makes it impossible to take the time to be gracious and civil and I long for a time before cell phones and the internet. For simpler times when manners were emphasized.
Yet I fear it's too late much the same as the babble coming out of Sarah Palin's mouth somehow passes for intelligence.
06 June 2009
Almost ready
Today I can declare myself almost ready for summer ... garden wise. I planted the containers out front of the house just moments ago with geraniums and impatients and watered the bejesus out of them. One of the planters has sprouted both a sunflower and a couple of pumpkin seeds which I am leaving alone. Can't wait to see what happens there.
And I've planted the sunflowers on the west side of the house along with more pumpkins. Lots more pumpkins. Those seeds have sprouted and are moving right along. There are still some morning glories to go in along the fence near the gate but again, I'm making progress.
Inside the fence I have all of my other pumpkins and sunflowers planted, my raspberries are coming into fruit, my blueberries have green berries. The broccoli is brockling and my peas are growing and blooming. No peas as of yet. The boxwoods I moved are settling in well as are the dwarf spruce , the decorative grasses and my King River White Birch. My kitchen garden has all of it's herbs planted along with a couple of grape tomato plants. And in various spots I have tomato seedlings coming up from last year along with yes, more pumpkins from last year's seeds.
I look around at my tiny yard which still sports too many weeds and realize I've recreated a lot of memories on this little plot of land. White birch, always in a stand on the side of the house my dad built, right outside our bedroom window. spice bush and mountain laurel, seen nightly on our yard tour with mother. Raspberries ... who can forget the raspberries at Grandma M's. We'd pick them for breakfast and eat them with fresh cream. Sunflowers, the fields in bloom as I drove the windy road to my first place when I moved back home to the valley. Pumpkins, how my children and grandchildren love to pick just the right pumpkin.
Yes it seems I am planting a water colour of my life and I am almost ready now to sit down and enjoy it.
And I've planted the sunflowers on the west side of the house along with more pumpkins. Lots more pumpkins. Those seeds have sprouted and are moving right along. There are still some morning glories to go in along the fence near the gate but again, I'm making progress.
Inside the fence I have all of my other pumpkins and sunflowers planted, my raspberries are coming into fruit, my blueberries have green berries. The broccoli is brockling and my peas are growing and blooming. No peas as of yet. The boxwoods I moved are settling in well as are the dwarf spruce , the decorative grasses and my King River White Birch. My kitchen garden has all of it's herbs planted along with a couple of grape tomato plants. And in various spots I have tomato seedlings coming up from last year along with yes, more pumpkins from last year's seeds.
I look around at my tiny yard which still sports too many weeds and realize I've recreated a lot of memories on this little plot of land. White birch, always in a stand on the side of the house my dad built, right outside our bedroom window. spice bush and mountain laurel, seen nightly on our yard tour with mother. Raspberries ... who can forget the raspberries at Grandma M's. We'd pick them for breakfast and eat them with fresh cream. Sunflowers, the fields in bloom as I drove the windy road to my first place when I moved back home to the valley. Pumpkins, how my children and grandchildren love to pick just the right pumpkin.
Yes it seems I am planting a water colour of my life and I am almost ready now to sit down and enjoy it.
05 June 2009
Leave town
So three weeks have passed and on Monday we sent our parents on their way. Our time with them was over and it was time to get back to real life and cherish our memories.
I'd be lying if I said it was an easy time having the parental unit here in the valley. My dad has changed little although his driving skills are a tad scary, especially considering he was heading out on the road with my mother to travel across country to Montana for the summer. Somehow, however, they'd made it here from Arizona so I figure that some diety is looking out for them. My mother is frail and decidedly opinionated. Yet as I looked back over the years of my childhood and early adulthood I realized not much had changed. She still saw children as an entity to be seen and not heard, to be strictly obedient and not emotionally needy, to be accepted but not truly nurtured. That kind of hurts to say aloud but time hadn't changed my parents at all.
The siblings on the East Coast spent many hours with our parents, showing them where we work, taking dad fishing at his favorite spots, looking at gardens with mom and eating, my did we eat. Yet as with all good things on Monday the time had come for the last meal together. And so my sister and I went out to purchase the Last Supper and with a weary smile asked that the baker write on their cake .....
LEAVE TOWN.
And they did. The next day.
I'd be lying if I said it was an easy time having the parental unit here in the valley. My dad has changed little although his driving skills are a tad scary, especially considering he was heading out on the road with my mother to travel across country to Montana for the summer. Somehow, however, they'd made it here from Arizona so I figure that some diety is looking out for them. My mother is frail and decidedly opinionated. Yet as I looked back over the years of my childhood and early adulthood I realized not much had changed. She still saw children as an entity to be seen and not heard, to be strictly obedient and not emotionally needy, to be accepted but not truly nurtured. That kind of hurts to say aloud but time hadn't changed my parents at all.
The siblings on the East Coast spent many hours with our parents, showing them where we work, taking dad fishing at his favorite spots, looking at gardens with mom and eating, my did we eat. Yet as with all good things on Monday the time had come for the last meal together. And so my sister and I went out to purchase the Last Supper and with a weary smile asked that the baker write on their cake .....
LEAVE TOWN.
And they did. The next day.
16 May 2009
Hello honey we're home!
About 30 years ago our parents decided to move across country and leave the family behind. It really was that simple. A phone call to inform us and within months the family home had been sold, childhood and high school rememberances tossed out and off they moved to the American desert, never looking back.
In the years which have since transpired I have raised two children by myself after a brutally protracted divorce, gone back to school and received a third degree, my BSN. My daughter has married and has three lovely children, a great husband and a home in upper NYS. My son has graduated from school and after spending several years abroad is now buying his first home. We've moved on. Without my parents around to use for emotional support, for a sounding board or to see how we have grown and changed.
Now they have returned for a visit having driven once again across country, a car stuffed full of their worldy possessions. They are now in their 80's and eager to share stories and offload tools, glassware and sporting goods to our generation. No matter that we have no memories of these items acquired out West, long after their move. No matter that their lives over the last 30 years have only been shared in phone calls and irregularly scheduled visits. Tomorrow my father will meet his great grandchildren for the first time and I wonder ....
do they understand?
In the years which have since transpired I have raised two children by myself after a brutally protracted divorce, gone back to school and received a third degree, my BSN. My daughter has married and has three lovely children, a great husband and a home in upper NYS. My son has graduated from school and after spending several years abroad is now buying his first home. We've moved on. Without my parents around to use for emotional support, for a sounding board or to see how we have grown and changed.
Now they have returned for a visit having driven once again across country, a car stuffed full of their worldy possessions. They are now in their 80's and eager to share stories and offload tools, glassware and sporting goods to our generation. No matter that we have no memories of these items acquired out West, long after their move. No matter that their lives over the last 30 years have only been shared in phone calls and irregularly scheduled visits. Tomorrow my father will meet his great grandchildren for the first time and I wonder ....
do they understand?
11 March 2009
Rain
It's still dark at 0645 on early March mornings. On the horizon, coming into the village the glow of state police strobe lights fill the sky. A detour and then I'm at the hospital. The work day has begun.
Death has once again imposed itself, uninvited. Crossing the street in the dark, shrouded in black clothing she was invisible until the car was right upon her. By then it was too late. Transport to the trauma center means a slight hope of survival. But only slight.
Around the corner are pale faces at the nurse's station ... and tears. A younger brother deployed in Iraq has died. "Friendly fire" she says. With friends like these .....
*************************************************************************************
The National Weather Bureau has issued a flood warning for the area. Swollen streams may overflow as rain continues to fall during the day. Be aware of your surroundings and be prepared.
(For Jennifer and Patrick)
Death has once again imposed itself, uninvited. Crossing the street in the dark, shrouded in black clothing she was invisible until the car was right upon her. By then it was too late. Transport to the trauma center means a slight hope of survival. But only slight.
Around the corner are pale faces at the nurse's station ... and tears. A younger brother deployed in Iraq has died. "Friendly fire" she says. With friends like these .....
*************************************************************************************
The National Weather Bureau has issued a flood warning for the area. Swollen streams may overflow as rain continues to fall during the day. Be aware of your surroundings and be prepared.
(For Jennifer and Patrick)
02 March 2009
The Weather Nurse
So I roll out of bed this morning, the wind howling through the trees. I turn on the outside lights to see snow swirling, the early morning sky eerily light. The storm of the century had arrived! The dogs came back into the house with snow stuck to their paws, looking for all of the world like they were never going out again.
After analyzing my situation I took precautions for the day ahead. I made sure my cell phone was adequately charged, I plugged in my rechargeable flash light, started my tea water and hoped for the best. After all, the news outlets were all touting horrific snow totals, with winds piling up the snow at our doorsteps. Well I was ready. Bring it on Mother Nature.
By 10:00 not so much. We had a total of 1.5 inches of snow on the ground. The wind had long since stopped as had the snow. Dare I note that the sun was peaking through the clouds ... or what was left of them. How could the weather people be so wrong? With all of the equipment and satellites, maps and computer programs, how had they misdiagnosed the storm of the century.
*************************************************************************************
The Rapid Response Team ran into the room, crash cart leading the way. An EKG was tracing the patient's heart rate and rhythm, lab personnel hanging in the hall awaiting their instructions.
At that moment the hospitalist came into the room. "Nurse, what's the situation here?" he said as he scanned the patient's vital signs, reading the EKG. NSR - normal sinus rhythm. No ectopy at all. Vital signs - stable. No signs of hyper or hypotension, temp hanging at 98.4 degrees, respiratory rate 18.
"Why nothing doctor, why?" asked the patient's nurse. "Why? WHY?" asked the doctor. "You called for a Rapid Response! You have everyone here! The lab techs, the EKG techs, the x-ray tech and radiologist. Even the ICU nurses are here. Not to mention me. There's nothing wrong with this patient nurse. Explain yourself."
"Nurse? Oh I thought I was the weather girl. I didn't know I had to be correct before I raised the alarm."
After analyzing my situation I took precautions for the day ahead. I made sure my cell phone was adequately charged, I plugged in my rechargeable flash light, started my tea water and hoped for the best. After all, the news outlets were all touting horrific snow totals, with winds piling up the snow at our doorsteps. Well I was ready. Bring it on Mother Nature.
By 10:00 not so much. We had a total of 1.5 inches of snow on the ground. The wind had long since stopped as had the snow. Dare I note that the sun was peaking through the clouds ... or what was left of them. How could the weather people be so wrong? With all of the equipment and satellites, maps and computer programs, how had they misdiagnosed the storm of the century.
*************************************************************************************
The Rapid Response Team ran into the room, crash cart leading the way. An EKG was tracing the patient's heart rate and rhythm, lab personnel hanging in the hall awaiting their instructions.
At that moment the hospitalist came into the room. "Nurse, what's the situation here?" he said as he scanned the patient's vital signs, reading the EKG. NSR - normal sinus rhythm. No ectopy at all. Vital signs - stable. No signs of hyper or hypotension, temp hanging at 98.4 degrees, respiratory rate 18.
"Why nothing doctor, why?" asked the patient's nurse. "Why? WHY?" asked the doctor. "You called for a Rapid Response! You have everyone here! The lab techs, the EKG techs, the x-ray tech and radiologist. Even the ICU nurses are here. Not to mention me. There's nothing wrong with this patient nurse. Explain yourself."
"Nurse? Oh I thought I was the weather girl. I didn't know I had to be correct before I raised the alarm."
28 February 2009
BFFs
Best friends. What does that term mean? Who are your best friends? Are they the kids in the neighborhood you grew up with? Your high school clique? Sorority sisters?
Over the past year I have discovered a whole new meaning for the term best friends. A year ago I joined Ravelry at the insistence of my youngest sister who found her reasons difficult to describe but thought for sure I needed to be part of the Rav crowd. I spent a few months looking at boards, reading through forum threads, learning a lot about knitting, yarn, technique and adding many patterns to my qeue. I really liked Ravelry. And then I found The Bravo Whores a Ravelry group formed to dish on the Bravo network shows.
It's not every day you find a group of women with whom you have so much in common as the BWs do. We could collectively fill in "all of the above" when completing any survey. Our ages run from the 20's to the 60's, we are East coasters, New Englanders, Southerners, West and NW coasters and most places in between. We are of different ethnicities. Yet we have the same sense of humour, the same sense of integrity and a feeling of sister-like love for each other. We know and care for each other the way best friends do. Over the past year we have offered support during times of loss, offered advice about men and life, worried about each other's children, followed fellow BWs as they moved across the country while waiting as our friends came back from oversea adventures. We have shared gifts and stories, been silly and serious, given and received medical advice, stayed up for hours laughing with each other and yet would not be able to pick out one another in a line up.
I think the BWs are a new definition of best friends. Holla at ya hos!
Over the past year I have discovered a whole new meaning for the term best friends. A year ago I joined Ravelry at the insistence of my youngest sister who found her reasons difficult to describe but thought for sure I needed to be part of the Rav crowd. I spent a few months looking at boards, reading through forum threads, learning a lot about knitting, yarn, technique and adding many patterns to my qeue. I really liked Ravelry. And then I found The Bravo Whores a Ravelry group formed to dish on the Bravo network shows.
It's not every day you find a group of women with whom you have so much in common as the BWs do. We could collectively fill in "all of the above" when completing any survey. Our ages run from the 20's to the 60's, we are East coasters, New Englanders, Southerners, West and NW coasters and most places in between. We are of different ethnicities. Yet we have the same sense of humour, the same sense of integrity and a feeling of sister-like love for each other. We know and care for each other the way best friends do. Over the past year we have offered support during times of loss, offered advice about men and life, worried about each other's children, followed fellow BWs as they moved across the country while waiting as our friends came back from oversea adventures. We have shared gifts and stories, been silly and serious, given and received medical advice, stayed up for hours laughing with each other and yet would not be able to pick out one another in a line up.
I think the BWs are a new definition of best friends. Holla at ya hos!
21 February 2009
Ya know those days when your fat pants feel tight?
So I'm minding my business this morning (sorta), looking out the window onto aptly named Church St in my little hamlet when I am blinded by the sight of one of my neighbors. In the early morning cold stands this young thing with her man, him working fervously on her car while she dispenses advice. And I can't help but notice (as I have such impeccable taste myself) that she is wearing red flannel pj bottoms which have large pictures of a dog face and WHADDUP DAWG written on them in flaming ass yellow. Not only that, these pants are a tad too tight around the buttocks and as she moves her butt sways in the breeze.
To compliment this ensemble my neighb is sporting black Uggs, a big black down jacket, a large cup of coffee and the requisite cigarette. And I think to myself, "And I thought the PR finalists showed questionable taste at the tents in NYC this week." I could hear Tim saying, "Frankly I'm worried" as he held his chn while Nina clucked and shook her head. Guest judge SJP would be saying that she couldn't see Carrie wearing this outfit on the show. Someone would wonder aloud about use of the Blue Fly wall of accessories and Heidi, Heidi would be saying "Auf weiderstein". (only she'd spell it correctly).
It made me long desperately for some real fashion and the 5th season of Project Runway while being afraid to think what the cast of "The Real Housewives of the Hudson Valley" would look like. And I strolled across the hall to my room, hoping this morning my fat pants would fit.
To compliment this ensemble my neighb is sporting black Uggs, a big black down jacket, a large cup of coffee and the requisite cigarette. And I think to myself, "And I thought the PR finalists showed questionable taste at the tents in NYC this week." I could hear Tim saying, "Frankly I'm worried" as he held his chn while Nina clucked and shook her head. Guest judge SJP would be saying that she couldn't see Carrie wearing this outfit on the show. Someone would wonder aloud about use of the Blue Fly wall of accessories and Heidi, Heidi would be saying "Auf weiderstein". (only she'd spell it correctly).
It made me long desperately for some real fashion and the 5th season of Project Runway while being afraid to think what the cast of "The Real Housewives of the Hudson Valley" would look like. And I strolled across the hall to my room, hoping this morning my fat pants would fit.
20 February 2009
You say it's my birthday?
So yesterday on the occasion of my 58th birthday I ventured forth to purchase a spring bag. The colour of this photo is misleading as it is more a grass green (like this lettering) but it is beautious and I love it. I have no business buying yet another bag as I have quite a collection of gorgeous handbags but they make me happy and therefore ....
I have lots to be thankful as I begin my 59th year. I have a great little house which I will soon be tearing apart with my brother. I am going to be changing the configuration of the rooms, moving walls, adding windows and French doors to the outside. The front of the house will become the rear, the rear the front. The reasons will be evident as time marches forward as I will post pictures.
And I have my delightful dogs who have enjoyed (I think) having me home this week. We have spent much time walking the village roads, looking at trees for signs of life. Today we even spotted our first robin. Spring can't be too far away, can it?
There is my knitting which I am really enjoying. The lace thing has continued to be a challenge despite my statements to the contrary earlier this month. I am reminded that pride indeed does go before the fall. As you can see the lace I am working on currently is coming along slowly but will be beautiful when complete.
And I also purchased and just received some watermelon yarn from which I will probably knit mittens. I had never even heard about such a yarn until the other day when I was browsing through the Ravelry boards. Who makes the best watermelon yarn? was the questions. Darned if I knew but I was gonna find out. So I went on line, found that most shoppes had no watermelon yarn left on their shelves. But with Irish luck I did find some yarn at The Loopy Ewe. The yarn was ordered, shipped and received within 4 days. I highly recommend this shoppe.
Someday, hopefully soon, I will learn how to load pictures from Flickr to my blog and have them actually end up where I want them. In the meanwhile .... enjoy!!
06 February 2009
Look I can knit lace
I knew I could do it. I can knit lace. I have joined the bi-peds of the knitting world and have created a knitted lace cowl from the book Artic Lace and darn I am proud.
Now it's off to try the February Lady sweater ... when the yarn arrives!
Now it's off to try the February Lady sweater ... when the yarn arrives!
01 February 2009
"Who knows where the time goes..."
a beautiful song from the '60s, sung by Judy Colins.
This has been a weekend of wondering ... where does time go? My mother, the grande dame of our family, turned 80 yesterday and as one of my sisters said, "she will always be young to me" a sentiment with which I agree. Our mother was always the elegant lady in our neighborhood. Tall with long legs, beautiful blue eyes and blond hair our mother loved to garden and each evening after dinner we would take a garden tour to admire her handiwork. During the summer months our mother would lie out by the pool, tanning, reading and drinking iced coffee. She always had a beautiful tan which she would offset with her wardrobe of blues and whites. Mother is also an RN, a tradition in our family for many generations. She returned to her profession after all of her children were in school and worked for many years. I remember her dressing in her white uniform, pinning her cap on in the bathroom mirror before she left for work. I was always very proud of my mother's profession.
Now mother is retired and living with our father in the Arizona desert. She still gardens though in pots now instead of large plots of land. She has maintained both her elegance and beauty as she's grown older. The sun is now too strong to sit in so instead she and our father take day trips throughout Arizona seeking out late winter flowers, flocks of birds and native American ruins. So different from her early days on a dairy farm in Dutchess County, NY. And she tells me "I don't feel eighty. I remember turning 50 and thinking 80 was old." And I tell her that at almost 58, 80 doesn't seem old to me ... at all.
In our minds we will always be young and beautiful. It's a nice place to be.
This has been a weekend of wondering ... where does time go? My mother, the grande dame of our family, turned 80 yesterday and as one of my sisters said, "she will always be young to me" a sentiment with which I agree. Our mother was always the elegant lady in our neighborhood. Tall with long legs, beautiful blue eyes and blond hair our mother loved to garden and each evening after dinner we would take a garden tour to admire her handiwork. During the summer months our mother would lie out by the pool, tanning, reading and drinking iced coffee. She always had a beautiful tan which she would offset with her wardrobe of blues and whites. Mother is also an RN, a tradition in our family for many generations. She returned to her profession after all of her children were in school and worked for many years. I remember her dressing in her white uniform, pinning her cap on in the bathroom mirror before she left for work. I was always very proud of my mother's profession.
Now mother is retired and living with our father in the Arizona desert. She still gardens though in pots now instead of large plots of land. She has maintained both her elegance and beauty as she's grown older. The sun is now too strong to sit in so instead she and our father take day trips throughout Arizona seeking out late winter flowers, flocks of birds and native American ruins. So different from her early days on a dairy farm in Dutchess County, NY. And she tells me "I don't feel eighty. I remember turning 50 and thinking 80 was old." And I tell her that at almost 58, 80 doesn't seem old to me ... at all.
In our minds we will always be young and beautiful. It's a nice place to be.
24 January 2009
I'm woolen hat deaf?
The sun is a bright light this day, the sky blue with the pheobes outside singing. And so perfect time to take two crazy goldens out for walk. I say walk, when I recognize that my Emmie walks lovely on a leash while Rory wants to romp through the snow as he tugs ne along, his leash frimly ensconced in his mouth. In any case, it's a wonderful chance to see the leaf buds on trees upclose while enjoying some sunshine on my face. As close to a January thaw as we are apparently going to get the year and so we venture off to enjoy the day.
We're rounding the bend on the mansion grounds, coming out of the woods when I hear a jogger, pounding the road as he runs. I look around and see nothing of the sort. Then I think perhaps there is workman nearby, putting up a sign, fixing a fence, as I hear the 'knock, knock, knock.' Again there is no sign of man with hammer. However as I stare high up in the trees I spot the only colour in the woods a piliated woodpecker reeking destruction on an old stately oak. How could I have not recognized that sound? I thought. I stop for a moment and watch as the large bird pecks away at the tree, pieces of bark flying. And then I think, it's the hat, the woolen hat that is muffling the sounds of nature on this January day. And I begin to dream of spring when hats will be off, buds will start to open and nature's sounds will once again be recognizable.
We're rounding the bend on the mansion grounds, coming out of the woods when I hear a jogger, pounding the road as he runs. I look around and see nothing of the sort. Then I think perhaps there is workman nearby, putting up a sign, fixing a fence, as I hear the 'knock, knock, knock.' Again there is no sign of man with hammer. However as I stare high up in the trees I spot the only colour in the woods a piliated woodpecker reeking destruction on an old stately oak. How could I have not recognized that sound? I thought. I stop for a moment and watch as the large bird pecks away at the tree, pieces of bark flying. And then I think, it's the hat, the woolen hat that is muffling the sounds of nature on this January day. And I begin to dream of spring when hats will be off, buds will start to open and nature's sounds will once again be recognizable.
19 January 2009
A promise of a new tomorrow
Tomorrow we celebrate the inauguration of a new president. The day will be the fulfillment of the promises of the Declaration of Independence ... all men are created equal ... and those of JFK, MLK, and RFK, martyrs of generations past. A day which blacks, brown, yellow and white have waited for, a day Civil Rights workers in the '60s have marched for, a day the activist folk singers of the '60s sang about ... the promise of freedom and equality for all.
The weight of the world and the times will fall on the shoulders of one man and the family who will share him with us for the next four years. A man who has already decided to look forward and not back. To not place blame for the sins of the past, to launch no punishing investigations, to honour his political foes, to renew old ties and establish new. A man of integrity ... we have waited so long.
I wonder how the job will change him and his values. I wonder what the next four years will bring, how his performance will impact us. And tonight I pray for us all ...
The weight of the world and the times will fall on the shoulders of one man and the family who will share him with us for the next four years. A man who has already decided to look forward and not back. To not place blame for the sins of the past, to launch no punishing investigations, to honour his political foes, to renew old ties and establish new. A man of integrity ... we have waited so long.
I wonder how the job will change him and his values. I wonder what the next four years will bring, how his performance will impact us. And tonight I pray for us all ...
18 January 2009
Cardinals in January
Well it took much maneuvering but I have finally figured out how to send my photos of this morning's birdie breakfast to my blog. God knows how I did this previously, I seem to have forgotten.
16 January 2009
Baby it's cold outside
And Emmie is building a nest.
Yes it was - 7.5 outside this a.m. when I awoke, ice on the kitchen windows. The dogs were anxious to go outside and do what dogs do when they've been inside all night ... head over to the bird feeder and see what's left on the ground for them to eat. And then, if they think of it, go to the bathroom before heading inside for breakfast.
It was so cold the snow squeaked and the back porch door windows glazed over quickly with frozen fog as the humidity from the house condensed on the glass.
It was so cold that my nasal membranes froze together as I breathed in the morning air.
And when I went out about 2 hours later to clean up the yard a bit after the dogs had decorated the snow, it was so cold that several of my finger nails broke. Now that's cold folks.
We're all safely indoors for the day although Emmie wants to go for a walk desperately. She keeps coming down the hall, crying at me and walking in circles in the front room. But when she's ready to settle down for a while, it's off to my bed to make the doggie nest.
Baby it may be cold outside but inside, inside we are just fine.
15 January 2009
"They come in three's ya know" and with that ...
I ran from the building.
As I have previously posted this has been quite the week. On our 40 bed unit I have had 30 OR patients admitted in three days. Fifteen patients were admitted from the ER on my 12 hour shifts and somewhere in the neighborhood of 45 - 50 patients were discharged. In the midst of all of the commotion there were 2 codes and 4 people who died, with two more teetering as I left the building tonight. By the time this evening is over they will have a pair of threes.
This week also brought two people who came into the hospital with unrelated illnesses which when being further pursued were discovered to have terminal cancer. Two people who went to sleep one night thinking they had pneumonia and a GI bleed who woke up the next day to devastating news. They are terminally ill and only but months to live.
As I drive home I remembered this day, this very date 8 years ago. I woke up that morning and with my son drove to the medical center in the capital of my state for surgery. My first real surgery. I, too had cancer, cancer which had metastisized but luckily cancer which was easily treated. When I returned home the next day my daughter called to tell me about the impending birth of my first grandchild....and now there are three.
They do come in three's ya know. I'm a lucky woman.
As I have previously posted this has been quite the week. On our 40 bed unit I have had 30 OR patients admitted in three days. Fifteen patients were admitted from the ER on my 12 hour shifts and somewhere in the neighborhood of 45 - 50 patients were discharged. In the midst of all of the commotion there were 2 codes and 4 people who died, with two more teetering as I left the building tonight. By the time this evening is over they will have a pair of threes.
This week also brought two people who came into the hospital with unrelated illnesses which when being further pursued were discovered to have terminal cancer. Two people who went to sleep one night thinking they had pneumonia and a GI bleed who woke up the next day to devastating news. They are terminally ill and only but months to live.
As I drive home I remembered this day, this very date 8 years ago. I woke up that morning and with my son drove to the medical center in the capital of my state for surgery. My first real surgery. I, too had cancer, cancer which had metastisized but luckily cancer which was easily treated. When I returned home the next day my daughter called to tell me about the impending birth of my first grandchild....and now there are three.
They do come in three's ya know. I'm a lucky woman.
14 January 2009
If you can keep your head while all about you are ...
then damn it girl friend you are the charge nurse.
It was quite the day yesterday at work and it always amazes me how a simple concept of too many patients, not enough beds confuses people. I tried using simple statements such as .... 'we don't have any beds' when the OR, ER, ICU called with admits. I tried using childhood logic ... 'too many people at the party, not enough chairs'. Hell I even tried, "Look it ain't my fault you guys schedule 11 surgical cases one day, 8 the next and then wonder why there are no beds with 37 inpatients on a 40 bed unit? I mean really folks, take off your freaking shoes and count your toes. It isn't gonna work." And they didn't seem to get it.
Then there were the caregivers. How far can you stretch the care? How far can you stretch the nerves, the emotions and the simple backbreaking work that is health care today? By the time the day was over people who work with each other every day, people who genuinely care about each other were snapping and sniping. And worse yet, yelling at the charge nurse. It's difficult to keep everyone on an even keel, salving frazzled nerves, directing incoming and outgoing patient traffic. And then having 'the kids' yell ....
It was a day fraught with emotions. The sadness of an elderly woman who lost her husband of 60+ years, begging him to live. We sat at the nursing station and cried. The joy of booting an obnoxious patient out the door and sending her home to where she belongs. We stood at the window and waved her goodbye. The comfort of doggie kisses and hugs from the pet therapy hounds. We can sense the presence of a dog at 100 yards. The excitement of two codes and watching patients with new joints walk the floors.
And when the day was over and I handed off the book (and patients) to the incoming charge nurse I thought that all in all we'd survived and more than that we'd kept our heads when all about us were loosing theirs ... and that made us a great group of women.
It was quite the day yesterday at work and it always amazes me how a simple concept of too many patients, not enough beds confuses people. I tried using simple statements such as .... 'we don't have any beds' when the OR, ER, ICU called with admits. I tried using childhood logic ... 'too many people at the party, not enough chairs'. Hell I even tried, "Look it ain't my fault you guys schedule 11 surgical cases one day, 8 the next and then wonder why there are no beds with 37 inpatients on a 40 bed unit? I mean really folks, take off your freaking shoes and count your toes. It isn't gonna work." And they didn't seem to get it.
Then there were the caregivers. How far can you stretch the care? How far can you stretch the nerves, the emotions and the simple backbreaking work that is health care today? By the time the day was over people who work with each other every day, people who genuinely care about each other were snapping and sniping. And worse yet, yelling at the charge nurse. It's difficult to keep everyone on an even keel, salving frazzled nerves, directing incoming and outgoing patient traffic. And then having 'the kids' yell ....
It was a day fraught with emotions. The sadness of an elderly woman who lost her husband of 60+ years, begging him to live. We sat at the nursing station and cried. The joy of booting an obnoxious patient out the door and sending her home to where she belongs. We stood at the window and waved her goodbye. The comfort of doggie kisses and hugs from the pet therapy hounds. We can sense the presence of a dog at 100 yards. The excitement of two codes and watching patients with new joints walk the floors.
And when the day was over and I handed off the book (and patients) to the incoming charge nurse I thought that all in all we'd survived and more than that we'd kept our heads when all about us were loosing theirs ... and that made us a great group of women.
10 January 2009
Snow covers a multitude of sins
As a child I remember sitting by the radio in the living room, listening intently as the roll call of schools was read off ..... a snow day! How long would we have to wait before we got the word? After all, the snow was still falling ...
We would head off to 'the park' and drag our tobogan to the top of the hill and pile on. And off we'd go, screaming as we headed down the hill. If we were really moving we'd almost hit the stream. And when we were ready for another go at, up the hill we'd trudge. Or we'd walk through the snow, shovels in tow, heading down the path to the pond where we'd clear out space to skate, playing house on ice.
Now many decades later I still look forward to the snow. Only now I watch the snow fall from indoors, watching it cover the gardens in the yard and using it as an excuse to make hot chocolate. I stay inside, lighting candles, listen to music and knit while the snow plows go by. And I'm always pleasantly surprised the next day when the yard is pristine, no small piles of dirt left by the contractor, no puddles of bird feed pushed to the ground and mostly no dog poo! Yes I still have two Goldens but you'd never know it by looking out the back porch door. Snow covers a multitude of sins.
We would head off to 'the park' and drag our tobogan to the top of the hill and pile on. And off we'd go, screaming as we headed down the hill. If we were really moving we'd almost hit the stream. And when we were ready for another go at, up the hill we'd trudge. Or we'd walk through the snow, shovels in tow, heading down the path to the pond where we'd clear out space to skate, playing house on ice.
Now many decades later I still look forward to the snow. Only now I watch the snow fall from indoors, watching it cover the gardens in the yard and using it as an excuse to make hot chocolate. I stay inside, lighting candles, listen to music and knit while the snow plows go by. And I'm always pleasantly surprised the next day when the yard is pristine, no small piles of dirt left by the contractor, no puddles of bird feed pushed to the ground and mostly no dog poo! Yes I still have two Goldens but you'd never know it by looking out the back porch door. Snow covers a multitude of sins.
09 January 2009
After carefully reviewing your papers ...
you may consider yourself discharged!
Today was an interesting day at work. I got 14 people out the door and back to their homes before the weekend weather sets in. Some patients went home the more conventional way with families and loved ones, one fellow he was just gonna go home, no more tests for him so he called 911 and then the local ambulance company and signed himself out AMA. One, one patient's soul left through the open window. But they've all gone home.
And I'm left to wonder about their lives and what it is they've returned home to, what projects they have yet to finish...much the same way as I ponder my stash and my ever growing pile of half finished knitted objects. How is it that some people have hundreds of finished objects on their web pages, cardigans finished, shawls draped artfully across garden gates and fences, socks by the dozen pairs while I have so many things to finish and so many dreams of patterns and yarns.
So I find myself welcoming the next two days off from work and look forward to anticipation of finishing a project, any project, before I cast on yet another. I have hopes that when my soul leaves through the open window I can look back at a life well lived with goals met and maybe a lace shawl left behind for one that I love.
The KnitWitNurse
Today was an interesting day at work. I got 14 people out the door and back to their homes before the weekend weather sets in. Some patients went home the more conventional way with families and loved ones, one fellow he was just gonna go home, no more tests for him so he called 911 and then the local ambulance company and signed himself out AMA. One, one patient's soul left through the open window. But they've all gone home.
And I'm left to wonder about their lives and what it is they've returned home to, what projects they have yet to finish...much the same way as I ponder my stash and my ever growing pile of half finished knitted objects. How is it that some people have hundreds of finished objects on their web pages, cardigans finished, shawls draped artfully across garden gates and fences, socks by the dozen pairs while I have so many things to finish and so many dreams of patterns and yarns.
So I find myself welcoming the next two days off from work and look forward to anticipation of finishing a project, any project, before I cast on yet another. I have hopes that when my soul leaves through the open window I can look back at a life well lived with goals met and maybe a lace shawl left behind for one that I love.
The KnitWitNurse
06 January 2009
Calm before the storm - time for a new hairdo?
I have had the past 6 days off and all in all the weather has been okay. I've taken the dogs for walks, been able to get out shopping and feed the birds. It's been all good. So it kinda figures that tomorrow when I am to return to work at 0 dark 30 in the a.m. the weather man is predicting sleet, snow and freezing rain. I guess I don't have the luck of the Irish after all. Instead of sitting on my arse, looking out the window thinking, "Gee I hope everyone is gonna be okay out there today" I will be slipping and sliding my way to work.
Of course the weather is good for business. I'm trying to decide whether it will be tib/fib fracture or femur fracture day. I'm kinda putting my money on the former as it is the younger crowd who break their ankles. And with the weather predicted I'm hoping the hip fracture crowd is learned enough to stay home. However you can never be too sure....
Last year one of our frequent fliers came in with a broken arm. It was a very, very snowy winter day, one of those days when the police say only necessary personnel should be on the streets and you try like hell to convince yourself that an RN isn't necessary personnel. Anyway, you could barely see in front of your face and out goes our friend Ruth to get her hair done. Yup, don't cancel the hair appointment. Why you could end up dead and what would happen then, if your hair wasn't done. And our friend Ruth was in her 90's. She ended up doing well with the arm thing but if I'm not mistaken she passed away this spring/summer from some unrelated cause, like old age. And I'm betting she looked good.
Be safe out there.....KnitWit Nurse
Of course the weather is good for business. I'm trying to decide whether it will be tib/fib fracture or femur fracture day. I'm kinda putting my money on the former as it is the younger crowd who break their ankles. And with the weather predicted I'm hoping the hip fracture crowd is learned enough to stay home. However you can never be too sure....
Last year one of our frequent fliers came in with a broken arm. It was a very, very snowy winter day, one of those days when the police say only necessary personnel should be on the streets and you try like hell to convince yourself that an RN isn't necessary personnel. Anyway, you could barely see in front of your face and out goes our friend Ruth to get her hair done. Yup, don't cancel the hair appointment. Why you could end up dead and what would happen then, if your hair wasn't done. And our friend Ruth was in her 90's. She ended up doing well with the arm thing but if I'm not mistaken she passed away this spring/summer from some unrelated cause, like old age. And I'm betting she looked good.
Be safe out there.....KnitWit Nurse
04 January 2009
Silly little Wynnie
Olwyne Isabelle Anastasia ... now that's a name to have to haul around through life. Is it any wonder she is known as Wynn? She is named in honor of her sister's namesakes sister (if you can follow that one. Three generations ago there were three sisters, Megan, Olwyne and Bronwyn. My grandaughters are their namesakes.) She is also named for her German great grandmother and her Ukrainian great great grandmother. She has a lot to live up to.
the light of my life
my first grand daughter, Megan Amelia Olive aka Maggie. Maggie was born on her great grandmother's birthday and so received her name. She's 7 now, likes to tease me that soon she will be a teen ager ... but first I think she needs to resolve that whole no front tooth thing!
I have such a special place in my heart for her....
Emma! Where in holy hell are you?
So today was walking the dogs in the park day. It's been brutally cold in the NE and so the dogs have been inside for the past week...well not inside the whole time obviously. I do have a fenced in yard where they romp and chase each other, eat stones and dig holes in the ground. But they've not had the freedom to just run. So over to the park behind the fire house we went where they both were chomping at the bit to get off their leashes and run.
And run they did. Rory, the 5 month old pup, ran about 10 yards and then stopped to look where I was and Emma? Emma decided screw it I'm out of here and ran across the field checking for a break in the fence and then having spied it she was gone. As in through the creek, over the hill and outta here. I called and called for her and when I had decided that she wasn't coming back without coaxing I turned to go get her leash and from out of the underbrush comes Emma. Wet, dirty Emma. I guess she just needed to run.
And run they did. Rory, the 5 month old pup, ran about 10 yards and then stopped to look where I was and Emma? Emma decided screw it I'm out of here and ran across the field checking for a break in the fence and then having spied it she was gone. As in through the creek, over the hill and outta here. I called and called for her and when I had decided that she wasn't coming back without coaxing I turned to go get her leash and from out of the underbrush comes Emma. Wet, dirty Emma. I guess she just needed to run.
03 January 2009
So a new day dawns
and here I am thinking, "At last I can post some of my finished works to ravlery". But hold on there sister. I have the stomach virus.
The bad thing about working in a hospital with sick people is that often what they have is contagious. I thought I was a regular genius not going into visit several of the patients on rounds last week as the virus is rampant there. My clerk had it, I sent her home. I just did not want to get sick. And so imagine my surprise when I awoke at 0300 with profound nausea. Thank the drug gods for anti-emetics as at least I can control what's happening. (I guess that's the good thing about working in a hospital.)
So today will be spent sipping tea, reading and watching tv. I hope for a great New Year's marathon of one type or another to keep my brain occupied. And by tomorrow I will be back at baseline having survived another day.
As I sign off I can hear the chorus of wind chimes in the back yard ringing in the wind. I do love that sound ...
The bad thing about working in a hospital with sick people is that often what they have is contagious. I thought I was a regular genius not going into visit several of the patients on rounds last week as the virus is rampant there. My clerk had it, I sent her home. I just did not want to get sick. And so imagine my surprise when I awoke at 0300 with profound nausea. Thank the drug gods for anti-emetics as at least I can control what's happening. (I guess that's the good thing about working in a hospital.)
So today will be spent sipping tea, reading and watching tv. I hope for a great New Year's marathon of one type or another to keep my brain occupied. And by tomorrow I will be back at baseline having survived another day.
As I sign off I can hear the chorus of wind chimes in the back yard ringing in the wind. I do love that sound ...
02 January 2009
Introducing my Goldens
Emma, the red head in the background who falls asleep every night watching tv and Rory the puppy who outlasts her. He loves to watch decorating shows on TLC and the channel of social enlightenment, Bravo TV.
In the begining...
the KnitWitNurse had a camera, a laptop and an obsessive habit called knitting but could find no way for these elements to interact. Yes I could save your life but communicate through pictures and a blog with the outside world? Not so much. I hunted high and low for the correct USB cable, buying and discarding many along the way.
It was during the holidays that I ventured into one of those electronic big box stores and sidled up to a young man and asked the question fraught with apprehension ... just how do I get my pictures off this thing (holding up digital camera) onto my laptop? "Easy, buy a card reader." Oh .....
Trying not to act too stupid I said, "So if I buy one of these (holding up card reader) I can take the disc from my camera, put it in here and download pictures onto my computer?" "Yup."
And I chose to believe the salesboy. So it with no great fanfare that today I am launching my blog, complete with pictures. Here you will hear about my family, my dogs, my job and my hobbies. And hopefully my tales will be accompanied by photographic evidence of same.
Thus begins my blog .... the KnitWitNurse
It was during the holidays that I ventured into one of those electronic big box stores and sidled up to a young man and asked the question fraught with apprehension ... just how do I get my pictures off this thing (holding up digital camera) onto my laptop? "Easy, buy a card reader." Oh .....
Trying not to act too stupid I said, "So if I buy one of these (holding up card reader) I can take the disc from my camera, put it in here and download pictures onto my computer?" "Yup."
And I chose to believe the salesboy. So it with no great fanfare that today I am launching my blog, complete with pictures. Here you will hear about my family, my dogs, my job and my hobbies. And hopefully my tales will be accompanied by photographic evidence of same.
Thus begins my blog .... the KnitWitNurse
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