I so did not want to get out of bed this morning and come to work. Not that work has been horrible lately - not at all! Last week was wondrously slow. I actually got everything on my "to-do" list done with time to spare. By all appearances, this week will be the same. It's just one of those days when working is for the birds. I keep telling myself if I hold out for three weeks, I'll be on my way to Indiana for Thanksgiving with my family. A whole week off!
I wish I could say I have something fascinating to write about today. Unfortunately, I don't live in New Hampshire anymore. I can't post pictures of an amazing October snow. I could post one of the dome of "Jerry's Temple" (a.k.a.: Cowboy's Stadium). I didn't realize until yesterday that I can see that blasted thing from the interstate I take to church on Sunday (which is miles from Arlington). A wonderful reminder of a man who thinks more of himself than everyone else in the world put together thinks of him. So my heartfelt congratulations to the Eagles for bulldozing the Cowboys yesterday!
I suppose I should make a cursory remark about the Rangers loosing the World Series. I am sorry for them, but I'm not mourning in sackcloth and ashes. It is a game, after all. And wouldn't it be nice if we all got paid millions of dollars for playing a game?
Can't say my week holds much...and I'm hoping it stays that way. Something already came up I'll need to to do Tuesday evening, starting it tonight. I have to bake some bread, so I decided while it rises I will mow the lawn one last time. Which is a pain because our mower is on the skids and has to be jumped. But it will get it out of the way finally. (I just hope I don't harm myself doing it - I already did accidental demolish duty last night...long story.) Then I have church on Wednesday, followed by every intention to keep Thursday clear so I can work on my dollhouse. By Friday all I want to do is sit and do nothing. Saturday I'll do some odd things and spend some time with some friends. Doesn't look too bad...just hope it stays that way!
Monday, October 31, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Old Maid
There’s probably some piece of honesty in the children’s card game Old Maid. You know, the game you play when the whole object is not to get stuck with the Old Maid. If you do, you lose. Apparently the game has been around forever. How we got to calling it “Old Maid”, though, is anyone’s guess. Probably because no one wants an old maid.
I got into a discussion with a friend this week about being older and still single. There’s the usual comment when someone asks if you’re married, you answer no and then they dare to ask your age: “Well, there’s still plenty of time.” I’ve heard that one quite a bit in my lifetime, but since I’ve reached my thirties the comment has changed to, “Well, there’s still hope.” I feel like they’re saying I’m out in the middle of the ocean on a raft with no food, no water, and certainly no help in sight. But don’t worry. As long as I’m breathing, there’s still hope. Of course, by this time I’m not so much hoping for salvation but a quick and painless death.
Perhaps I should put my disclaimer in right here. I know I’m not old. I’ll be 32 in a few months, yes. By this time in her life, my mom had been married nine years and had four kids. My best friend is 32. She’s been married for eight years and has five kids. Looking at it that way, I’m lagging way behind in the normal race of life. And I know because of my age I may not be blessed with the large family I would love to have. I’m not saying that doesn’t hurt, but I’m not alone either. I have many single friends in the same raft as me. If we’re hoping for salvation or death…well, it depends on the day.
In its most literal sense, “old maid” refers to a woman who is not married and beyond the age of child bearing. As a normal, healthy 31 year old woman I am certainly not that. So, why the thoughts on being an old maid? Well, it’s amazing what random thoughts you can have when sitting in bumper to bumper traffic for miles THREE mornings in a row! But there’s something else I’ve been noticing lately…
Now I have been referred to as “Miss Melissa” since I was in my late teens – by kids whom I taught that needed to show proper respect to their “elder”. And so it is today at church or among the children of my friends. But now I’m not just getting it from kids. I have a friend (older than I am) who often refers to me as “Miss Melissa” even when addressing me. The part time chaplain at work came in a couple of days ago and greeted, “How are you, Miss Melissa?” Even people on the phone I’ve done business with for months or just recently will refer to me as “Miss Melissa”. I have to confess the title associated with my name on a day-to-day basis now is making me wonder if I’ve crossed some line and entered into the territory of old maids.
I’m not discontent single. Truly. And I’m not without hope of a husband and family. Not at all. But I won’t deny it’s not hard some days to wonder why God’s perfect timing is my being single into my thirties. Why is He not putting things into place so I can live “happily ever after”? Will I even have kids? On, and on, and on…even when I see Him at work. It aches enough without being reminded about it – unintentionally, of course – but reminded all the same.
I promise I’m laughing as I write this. Because even though reminders of my age and “social status” can painfully hurt, what married woman with children can have ice cream for dinner if she feels like it? And while that doesn’t quite make up for the lack of someone who chose you over every other woman in the world or the kids who make you laugh at their antics, it is good comfort food. And comes in lots of flavors (that I get to choose without having to please anyone else). Of course, it’s not very good for the waistline…
…but then, I guess, neither is having ten kids.
Monday, October 24, 2011
It's beginning to look...
...a very tiny little bit like fall.
Of course, in Texas, the season I loved and enjoyed called autumn is non-existent. I saw an advertisement on-line this morning about Texas foliage and gave a very unladylike snort. Texas foliage? Oh...you mean those dead, brown leaves. Yeah, well, we've had those hanging from the trees since July. Then we called them dead. Now we call them foliage. I guess that's kind of like in hospice we say "passed" versus "died". Sounds nicer, doesn't it?
But this morning was pretty amazing. I haven't seen anything like it in Texas before. But unlike Texans I do know what it is: fog. Everywhere. The kind where you can see headlights about the time they're upon you. Or brake lights about the time you're upon them. I was surprised the commute wasn't as bad as I imagined it would be. There were no accidents on the interstate I have to travel over. For once, Texans kept their heads over unusual weather and didn't try to kill one another. Personally, I enjoyed the fall-ish look of the low fog that lasted until nearly noon. Now the sun is high over the heavens once more, the temperature is somewhere around 80 and it looks like it always does: blah and summer-ish.
But I am grateful God gives me the small tokens for good. Helps me endure the normal not-so-great days and encourages me to pray for miracles!
Of course, in Texas, the season I loved and enjoyed called autumn is non-existent. I saw an advertisement on-line this morning about Texas foliage and gave a very unladylike snort. Texas foliage? Oh...you mean those dead, brown leaves. Yeah, well, we've had those hanging from the trees since July. Then we called them dead. Now we call them foliage. I guess that's kind of like in hospice we say "passed" versus "died". Sounds nicer, doesn't it?
But this morning was pretty amazing. I haven't seen anything like it in Texas before. But unlike Texans I do know what it is: fog. Everywhere. The kind where you can see headlights about the time they're upon you. Or brake lights about the time you're upon them. I was surprised the commute wasn't as bad as I imagined it would be. There were no accidents on the interstate I have to travel over. For once, Texans kept their heads over unusual weather and didn't try to kill one another. Personally, I enjoyed the fall-ish look of the low fog that lasted until nearly noon. Now the sun is high over the heavens once more, the temperature is somewhere around 80 and it looks like it always does: blah and summer-ish.
But I am grateful God gives me the small tokens for good. Helps me endure the normal not-so-great days and encourages me to pray for miracles!
Friday, October 21, 2011
Great Accomplishments
Seems to me one of my greatest accomplishments in life will ever be the fact that I have read War and Peace. As if that took months of practice, or hours of muscle building, or years in school. All told, it probably took out only 30 hours of my life over a month-long period. But when I get around people who spout off their great achievements, it's the one thing that comes to mind. Perhaps I should put it on my epitaph: "Here lies Melissa Sturm. She read War and Peace".
And although War and Peace is a great book which I thoroughly enjoyed, the most interesting thing about it is Tolstoy wasn't completely satisfied. A master writer, the author of great works of literature...and he wasn't satisfied? He wanted to rewrite it. All well over a thousand pages. By hand. I remember thinking, "Good grief. If Tolstoy can't be happy with a work like War and Peace, my books will never be good enough to publish. Ever."
Really good writers are hard to come by. I'm not talking successful. Or rich. Or popular. I'm saying GOOD. Good writing, good content, good characters, good morals. Which may mean success, and wealth, and popularity (every writer's dream...). Like Brian Jacques. The author of the popular Redwall series. I was sad to discover he passed away this past winter. No more grand adventures of sword-swinging mice, and food-guzzling hares, and fierce-paddling shrews. But his books will live on. My brother has read almost all of them a dozen times. I will finish my collection, continue to suggest them to boys of all ages, and - Lord willing - pass them on to my own sons and nephews one day. Then they can sharpen sticks into spears and chase away pirating rats from their backyards. Eulalia!
All this to say, maybe it's about time I humbly mentioned an accomplishment. No, I didn't read War and Peace a second time. And even though I've met Brian Jacques and have his autograph in my favorite book of his, I'm not well on my way to penning a story on funny-talking moles. But I do have a book. A published book. A self-published book. Which actually has my name on it and my words in it.
I can't remember if I blogged a couple of years ago about a woman my mother met at our library in New Hampshire. A little woman named Mrs. Norma Harris who was attempting to read a document I wish my family possessed - discharge papers from her husband's great-great grandfather who fought in the Civil War. One thing led to another and before a month was gone, I was helping Mrs. Harris write a book based upon her family and the letters this Civil War vet had written home. A year later, the book was written. A year after that...Mrs. Harris decided self-publication was the way to go. My computer "expertise" came in with this. But she is the one who has made this ball roll since. While anyone who knows my name is written on a published book found out almost by accident, she keeps her trunk full of them and makes sells at art shows, doctor's offices and grocery stores. Libraries have asked her to come sign their copies, reading groups want her to come speak and last week a college history prof asked if she would come speak to his class a few times. That, I confess, has left me a bit envious!
So, there you have it. You can even check it out on Barnes and Noble or Amazon. Just type in my name and you'll find it: Extraordinary Times and Everyday Lives. And yet even with that, the first thing that still comes to mind when speaking of accomplishments is that I've read War and Peace. But who knows. Maybe over a hundred years ago when standing at a Russian banquet and listening to great men talk about their accomplishments, Tolstoy sipped his champagne and thought, "Well, I've read Don Quixote." And with that, he's still one ahead of me!
And although War and Peace is a great book which I thoroughly enjoyed, the most interesting thing about it is Tolstoy wasn't completely satisfied. A master writer, the author of great works of literature...and he wasn't satisfied? He wanted to rewrite it. All well over a thousand pages. By hand. I remember thinking, "Good grief. If Tolstoy can't be happy with a work like War and Peace, my books will never be good enough to publish. Ever."
Really good writers are hard to come by. I'm not talking successful. Or rich. Or popular. I'm saying GOOD. Good writing, good content, good characters, good morals. Which may mean success, and wealth, and popularity (every writer's dream...). Like Brian Jacques. The author of the popular Redwall series. I was sad to discover he passed away this past winter. No more grand adventures of sword-swinging mice, and food-guzzling hares, and fierce-paddling shrews. But his books will live on. My brother has read almost all of them a dozen times. I will finish my collection, continue to suggest them to boys of all ages, and - Lord willing - pass them on to my own sons and nephews one day. Then they can sharpen sticks into spears and chase away pirating rats from their backyards. Eulalia!
All this to say, maybe it's about time I humbly mentioned an accomplishment. No, I didn't read War and Peace a second time. And even though I've met Brian Jacques and have his autograph in my favorite book of his, I'm not well on my way to penning a story on funny-talking moles. But I do have a book. A published book. A self-published book. Which actually has my name on it and my words in it.
I can't remember if I blogged a couple of years ago about a woman my mother met at our library in New Hampshire. A little woman named Mrs. Norma Harris who was attempting to read a document I wish my family possessed - discharge papers from her husband's great-great grandfather who fought in the Civil War. One thing led to another and before a month was gone, I was helping Mrs. Harris write a book based upon her family and the letters this Civil War vet had written home. A year later, the book was written. A year after that...Mrs. Harris decided self-publication was the way to go. My computer "expertise" came in with this. But she is the one who has made this ball roll since. While anyone who knows my name is written on a published book found out almost by accident, she keeps her trunk full of them and makes sells at art shows, doctor's offices and grocery stores. Libraries have asked her to come sign their copies, reading groups want her to come speak and last week a college history prof asked if she would come speak to his class a few times. That, I confess, has left me a bit envious!
So, there you have it. You can even check it out on Barnes and Noble or Amazon. Just type in my name and you'll find it: Extraordinary Times and Everyday Lives. And yet even with that, the first thing that still comes to mind when speaking of accomplishments is that I've read War and Peace. But who knows. Maybe over a hundred years ago when standing at a Russian banquet and listening to great men talk about their accomplishments, Tolstoy sipped his champagne and thought, "Well, I've read Don Quixote." And with that, he's still one ahead of me!
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
One Step Closer
Last week I downloaded an app on which I can make lists. An organizer’s dream. I’ve filled it with enough lists I’m running out of color options: to-do, dollhouse, books to read, grocery, etc. It’s really cool. And rather off the subject. Except on my day off yesterday I checked several things off it, including the wallpapering of my dollhouse.
The house looks really nice with all the wallpaper in. Of course, it needs flooring. And baseboards. And the window frames. Then it will look much nicer. And once I get the bay windows in (hopefully this week), I have a little bit of wallpapering to do on those. Next will be the windows, once I get them inside frames painted or stained – another project I hope to get to this week. It’s really starting to come together…
The kitchen.
The downstairs hallway - too me forever to get that in!
The living room. I think I may put wainscoting in here if I find something I like. I am putting window seats in both the windows - I love window seat.
The upstairs hallway – I think it’s my favorite.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
In which the sun does not appear - is there anything more glorious?
Yesterday a miracle occurred in the state of Texas: it rained. Like really rained. Water pouring out the sky. I had to set my windshield wipers up two speeds, hydroplaning on the way to church, a moment when I thought I was going to die thanks to a tidal wave of water washing over my car. But, you see, with earth as dry and cracked as it is down here, a flood is needed for it to soak in anywhere. Which means water just flows everywhere. But that's okay. I think I'd rather meet my Creator having died in a flood than withering up and dying thanks to wickedly hot temperatures.
Some of you are probably thinking I shouldn't shrug at death so easily. Truly, I wasn't in any danger yesterday (as I listened to a sermon on how my times are in God's hands and I won't die until the sovereign time He has already ordained for me). But if I were to die, I know where I'm going: Home. Besides, I've worked in hospice for over two years. Death is a part of life.
Most of you probably can't imagine how glorious rain is. But it's not just that. Do you know what is even more wonderful? No sun. Even now it is dark and cloudy out. It's the most beautiful day I have seen in the past six months. Not a hint of blazing sunshine. Not a light to behold anywhere. It's relaxes my very soul - I kid you not. And I dread the clouds dissipating later today and revealing that ball of brutal light. (To the point of praying the forecast is wrong and we can enjoy one more day of cloudy gloominess.) I just wish this day had been on a Saturday so I could sleep in late, take a nice run and then curl up in a comfy chair with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. Instead I have to be at work...but I'll work all day if the clouds would only stay and the sun never appear.
Some of you are probably thinking I shouldn't shrug at death so easily. Truly, I wasn't in any danger yesterday (as I listened to a sermon on how my times are in God's hands and I won't die until the sovereign time He has already ordained for me). But if I were to die, I know where I'm going: Home. Besides, I've worked in hospice for over two years. Death is a part of life.
Most of you probably can't imagine how glorious rain is. But it's not just that. Do you know what is even more wonderful? No sun. Even now it is dark and cloudy out. It's the most beautiful day I have seen in the past six months. Not a hint of blazing sunshine. Not a light to behold anywhere. It's relaxes my very soul - I kid you not. And I dread the clouds dissipating later today and revealing that ball of brutal light. (To the point of praying the forecast is wrong and we can enjoy one more day of cloudy gloominess.) I just wish this day had been on a Saturday so I could sleep in late, take a nice run and then curl up in a comfy chair with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. Instead I have to be at work...but I'll work all day if the clouds would only stay and the sun never appear.
Friday, October 7, 2011
It's after 4:30 on a Friday afternoon. I stop to take a breath, pondering what I didn't get done this week and will have to do next week...and realize I haven't blogged!
Not that any of my few readers probably really care if I miss posting twice a week, but you might stop to suppose that "Good, Old Reliable Melissa" has caught the flu or something and so didn't post. But, she hasn't. For "Good, Old Reliable Melissa" doesn't get sick. Nor does she get hurt, no matter how many things she dropped, hit or overflowed yesterday. But sometimes it seems like the world would end if "Good, Old Reliable Melissa" has a frog in her throat (which she did this morning when greeting her boss who immediately said, "Are you all right?"), or didn't call home on Sundays, or didn't text a friend every morning, or couldn't be reached on the phone as soon as it rings at work. And if you don't get the picture, "Good, Old Reliable Melissa" is a bit tired of being good, old and reliable. The only problem is, she couldn't stop being all that if she tried. And now she will get off her soap box and stop talking about herself in third person.
Yes, granted, I'm a bit tired. More tired than I seem, if this morning was any indication. Work has been consistently busy this week. We hit records with 7 (yes, SEVEN) deaths. Plus three admissions. It didn't help that I've played techie all week. (I always knew if I attended public school I'd be labeled "geek".) Everyone got new cell phones this week. You should try setting up ten cell phones, teaching "old" nurses how to text and fixing the problems they have because some button was pushed so now the phone is talking to them, won't ring, or text messages disappear. We probably should have just had an in-service, but I'm not sure "Welcome to the 21st Century: Cell Phones 101" is a Medicare-qualified in-service.
And just to throw a wrench in what I hoped would be a quieter day, I get back from lunch and hear the home health office manager, Linda, call: "Um, Melissa? I think my computer has a virus." It was a bit worse than that. It was a trojan. But over the next hour or more, by God's grace, the computer was fixed. The home health agency is safely in business again, they are now virus protected, and it was suggested I get a weekend at a spa for playing Superman (or would Wonder Woman be more appropriate?).
And now it is 4:48. 12 minutes left of my work week. And will I ever be glad it's over! Not because I have anything thrilling to do this weekend: maybe lunch with a friend, Sunday dinner at our assistant pastor's house (and a round of Hand 'n Foot), wallpapering (the dollhouse), a long run and sleeping a little bit late (I hope!). Of course, my car also needs to be washed. I just remembered I need to make apple dumplings for Sunday. Laundry. Wouldn't hurt to sweep my rooms, update my account keeping, clean off my desk in my room...9 minutes till the weekend begins. And looks like it won't contain a moment's peace!
Not that any of my few readers probably really care if I miss posting twice a week, but you might stop to suppose that "Good, Old Reliable Melissa" has caught the flu or something and so didn't post. But, she hasn't. For "Good, Old Reliable Melissa" doesn't get sick. Nor does she get hurt, no matter how many things she dropped, hit or overflowed yesterday. But sometimes it seems like the world would end if "Good, Old Reliable Melissa" has a frog in her throat (which she did this morning when greeting her boss who immediately said, "Are you all right?"), or didn't call home on Sundays, or didn't text a friend every morning, or couldn't be reached on the phone as soon as it rings at work. And if you don't get the picture, "Good, Old Reliable Melissa" is a bit tired of being good, old and reliable. The only problem is, she couldn't stop being all that if she tried. And now she will get off her soap box and stop talking about herself in third person.
Yes, granted, I'm a bit tired. More tired than I seem, if this morning was any indication. Work has been consistently busy this week. We hit records with 7 (yes, SEVEN) deaths. Plus three admissions. It didn't help that I've played techie all week. (I always knew if I attended public school I'd be labeled "geek".) Everyone got new cell phones this week. You should try setting up ten cell phones, teaching "old" nurses how to text and fixing the problems they have because some button was pushed so now the phone is talking to them, won't ring, or text messages disappear. We probably should have just had an in-service, but I'm not sure "Welcome to the 21st Century: Cell Phones 101" is a Medicare-qualified in-service.
And just to throw a wrench in what I hoped would be a quieter day, I get back from lunch and hear the home health office manager, Linda, call: "Um, Melissa? I think my computer has a virus." It was a bit worse than that. It was a trojan. But over the next hour or more, by God's grace, the computer was fixed. The home health agency is safely in business again, they are now virus protected, and it was suggested I get a weekend at a spa for playing Superman (or would Wonder Woman be more appropriate?).
And now it is 4:48. 12 minutes left of my work week. And will I ever be glad it's over! Not because I have anything thrilling to do this weekend: maybe lunch with a friend, Sunday dinner at our assistant pastor's house (and a round of Hand 'n Foot), wallpapering (the dollhouse), a long run and sleeping a little bit late (I hope!). Of course, my car also needs to be washed. I just remembered I need to make apple dumplings for Sunday. Laundry. Wouldn't hurt to sweep my rooms, update my account keeping, clean off my desk in my room...9 minutes till the weekend begins. And looks like it won't contain a moment's peace!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Remembering Hospice
Hospice is probably a rather morbid subject for a blog, but it is a majority of my life. Talking to nurses, talking to families, billing, filing, hearing about death every single day. When I moved down here over two years ago to take this job, I didn't really know what hospice was about. You learn fast...and even get over the odd topic of death on a daily basis. But the odd thing about this job is when someone asks you what you do for a living.
"I'm an office manager for a hospice."
"Really? My (fill in the blank) was on hospice..." And on the story goes. Through tears, I get the tale of their grandmother, their father, or some close relative who was put on hospice and the wonderful service that saw them through the last hard days of their loved one's life. I then get praised for the job I do as if pushing papers, crunching numbers and answering phones is amazing. I always tell them its the nurses and our other staff that are amazing. I just keep the wheels turning.
Our social worker is working on the memorial service we have every year for the families of those who have passed away. She's new and this is her first one, so she is brimming with ideas. We're doing the invitations this afternoon. She's had roses donated for the service. We've talked about candles. And today she stopped by a nursery just to see if we could get a donation of trees or flowers to give to the attendees in remembrance of their loved ones. Like me, she knows nothing about plants, so she went in blind.
First she spoke to a very busy cashier who said she would have to talk to her manager. The cashier returned and said they could do 20% off. Susan didn't think that was a great deal, but she browsed around and came upon some pansies she really liked. A man came up and asked if he could help her. She noticed he was a manager (not the same one asked before) and told him about what she was doing. He teared up and told her his grandmother had been on hospice, telling her the story of his experience. Then he said he could do 30%, but he'd need to run it by his manager. Which he went to do.
His manager came out to meet Susan, tearing up and telling her that her granddaughter had been on hospice and what a wonderful experience it was. She then said she would donate free of charge 50 pansies for our memorial service. Not only that, but they are going to make little cards and tie them to the plants with ribbons explaining the meaning of a pansy: remembrance.
Right there in the store, Susan exclaimed, "God is so good!"
"Yes, He is," the first manager she had spoken with agreed. "He led you here today."
"Amen!" Susan said.
And so He did. Just as He leads all of us - a reminder I sorely need.
"I'm an office manager for a hospice."
"Really? My (fill in the blank) was on hospice..." And on the story goes. Through tears, I get the tale of their grandmother, their father, or some close relative who was put on hospice and the wonderful service that saw them through the last hard days of their loved one's life. I then get praised for the job I do as if pushing papers, crunching numbers and answering phones is amazing. I always tell them its the nurses and our other staff that are amazing. I just keep the wheels turning.
Our social worker is working on the memorial service we have every year for the families of those who have passed away. She's new and this is her first one, so she is brimming with ideas. We're doing the invitations this afternoon. She's had roses donated for the service. We've talked about candles. And today she stopped by a nursery just to see if we could get a donation of trees or flowers to give to the attendees in remembrance of their loved ones. Like me, she knows nothing about plants, so she went in blind.
First she spoke to a very busy cashier who said she would have to talk to her manager. The cashier returned and said they could do 20% off. Susan didn't think that was a great deal, but she browsed around and came upon some pansies she really liked. A man came up and asked if he could help her. She noticed he was a manager (not the same one asked before) and told him about what she was doing. He teared up and told her his grandmother had been on hospice, telling her the story of his experience. Then he said he could do 30%, but he'd need to run it by his manager. Which he went to do.
His manager came out to meet Susan, tearing up and telling her that her granddaughter had been on hospice and what a wonderful experience it was. She then said she would donate free of charge 50 pansies for our memorial service. Not only that, but they are going to make little cards and tie them to the plants with ribbons explaining the meaning of a pansy: remembrance.
Right there in the store, Susan exclaimed, "God is so good!"
"Yes, He is," the first manager she had spoken with agreed. "He led you here today."
"Amen!" Susan said.
And so He did. Just as He leads all of us - a reminder I sorely need.
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