Thursday, December 31, 2009

Immanaunt

As you all know, I'm NOTAMOM (see early posts here in the Hygge Hut), but I am most proud that IMMANAUNT!

I am the very delighted aunt of Megan and Allison, aged 19, twin daughters of my step-brother, Scott. I am the aunt, by marriage, to Christine, age 28, and Michael, age 25. I am the excited, fortunate and involved aunt to my 15 year old nephew Jackson and my 17 month old niece McKenna, children of my brother Doug. They live in Long Beach, just two miles away.

This aunt thing is working out pretty great. I get my nephew once a month for a dinner, when he's not playing water polo, and I go to the water polo games to cheer him on when he is. I get all the good stuff and none of the teenage boy stuff. Jackson is a really good kid, with straight A's and a talent in the pool. He's also a 15 year old boy.

I've been trying to get my niece McKenna once a week or so to play the auntie. We're working on dancing with Beyonce's "Single Ladies" video and any "So You Think You Can Dance" stuff on the DVR, as well as watching part of "Finding Nemo" everytime she's over. She loves the jumping Pixar light that comes on screen before the movie starts. You know the one. Boing! Boing! Boing! She's also quite good at wrapping my heart around her finger.

Jackson will know and remember me, but I worry about McKenna. I'll be 53 soon and she'll be 18 months when I hit that age. I need to keep working on creating memories for her so they will stick and so she will always think of her Aunt Katie with happy thoughts, long after I'm gone. Not to be morbid, but I'll be pretty old when she graduates from college - and I plan to be there, by the way.

I want her to think of me when Jackson has kids, even with kids of her own, and she gets to say "IMMANAUNT, just like Aunt Katie, and aren't I lucky"?

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Top Ten

We have been asked to provide a Top Ten List for a New Year's Eve gathering. No subject matter, just come up with a Top Ten List for 2009. I thought I'd share a couple with you, while deciding what to share.

Top Ten Items to Pack in Your Suitcase:
1. enough underwear
2. deodorant
3. a pair of sandals
4. camera battery charger
5. charger for any electronic gadget you're dragging along
6. bathing suit, because you never know when you'll need it
7. blank thank you card to write out while you're visiting friends to leave on the pillow
8. hostess gift
9. an extra pair of underwear
10. camera, with a charged battery

Top Ten Things I did in 2009 and Hope I Won't Do Again:
1. not take enough underwear on a trip
2. forget the camera charger
3. not believe my husband when he says he's worried about losing his job
4. hold my poor old cat in a towel instead of her carrier when going to put her to sleep
5. spend 7 hours in Denver trying to get to Atlanta instead of buying a ticket
6. try to reason with an unreasonable client
7. spend over $70 per person for tea
8. fall behind in my SalesPro updates
9. forget to floss
10. stop counting/tracking points

Top Ten Things I did in 2009 and Hope I Will Do Again:
1. start the New Year on a boat in Sydney Harbour
2. go to Australia three times in one year
3. go flying in a private plane
4. have a nice visit with Anna
5. spend time with friends around the country and around the world
6. spend time alone with Jackson and with McKenna
7. make something good out of tragedy, like a new friend
8. lose 24+ pounds
9. tell and show my husband I love him frequently and with gusto
10. make a difference with Pathways to Independence and Long Beach Basket Brigade

Still a work in progress. Happy New Year to all!

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Where are those glasses, anyway?

My beloved husband, my dear engineer, absent-minded professor and farsighted guy received some nice gifts this year from our families. He loves the argyle sweater. He likes the iTunes gift card and the BevMo gift card. He even thinks he can use that utility cord carrier that someone gave him.

He was quick to tell me we'd need to exchange the nice Eddie Bauer shirt that someone gave in him in Large, because he needs at XLT.

Of course, he has no idea who gave him any of those things. Nor did he know that the L shirt he opened was actually OUR gift to my step-father.

That's because Cameron can't read the tags without his glasses. He didn't want to get up to find them, he wasn't sitting next to me to have me read everything and said "I just opened what I was handed".

That pocket on your shirt, Cam? That's for your reading glasses.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Mario's View of Paris

This is part of an email I received from my friend Mario today in response to my email to him, asking about his recent trip to Paris. I found it very entertaining and thought I would share one man's view of Paris.

Paris was wonderful. And get this…while riding the very crowded Metro during rush hour, I was conveniently sandwiched between trois jeunes hommes très beaux. (well, younger than me) Talk about your gift with purchase.

I never knew riding the subway could be so much fun. Every direction I looked, I got a view of beautiful France.

Each one with remarkably great skin, a hint of stubble, gorgeous eyes and rosy cheeks that looked freshly pinched …and they even smelled like they bathed and used cologne. They smelled even better than a loaf of freshly baked croissant…with melted butter. And let me tell you, I love my carbs. What can I say? "Paris...je t'aime"

Oh…the city was gorgeous, too.


So, merci bien, Mario for that slice of Parisian life!

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Fog Juice

Yesterday I went looking for fog juice at Target. One would think that on Halloween fog juice would be a hot seller. One would, you know. After all, you need fog juice for the fog machine that makes that graveyard you've set up in the courtyard to look scary. Fog juice is a very important ingredient for Halloween at the Haunted Larson Lodge and Cameron put it on my shopping list, right after hair color and before deodorant.

But, alas, there was no fog juice at Target. You know what was on the shelf where the fog juice used to be? Something much, much scarier....

Christmas lights.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Linens

How many sets of sheets do you need? I mean, how many are too few, how many too many? Should there be one set for every month or every season? Changing them at least weekly, of course, but do you leave the bed naked while they wash and put the same ones back on? Or do you buy all the same kind so there is always a fresh set but the bed always looks the same? Or change it up and surprise your husband with a new look every week?

I ask because I always want to buy sheets. I can't stay away from the linen section. That 100% cotton, 300+ thread count king set on sale just beckons to me. And now that we're back in California with our king bed that isn't a California king, those king sets are harder to find here. Shouldn't I buy them just because I don't know if I'll find them again when I really need them? Buying them on the Internet isn't the same. I have to hold the package in my hand, really see the color and read the label. Does it have deep pockets? What's the thread count? Where is it made?

And how do you know when you need new sheets, not just want them? Do they wear out? Does the elastic go? That hasn't happened to me, but maybe because I have too many sets so they never get a chance to wear out. Again, what's too many?

And we use a down comforter, so duvet covers just open up all kinds of possibilities. How do I know if I have enough duvet covers or if I have too many? Or not enough? These I change with the season and the weather. Different weights and textures: flannel versus flat weave versus denim weight; casual versus formal versus seasonal themes. That means as soon as the weather cools off the flannel fall leaf patterned duvet cover goes on, as do the matching flannel sheets. (And the electric blanket, but that's a different topic.)

Just yesterday I bought a set of hotel-white 350 thread count sheets and a new lightweight duvet cover in pewter and white - a totally new color scheme for me. I'm kind of excited about a new look. But it's October - do I put on the new white sheets now, before the flannel sheets come out or should I wait until next spring, when the flannel comes off?

Maybe this is why I have anxiety? I think I need to remove the question mark from my keyboard now. And perhaps I shouldn't write at midnight on a Sunday. My sage green 400 thread count sheets and the summer weight green and white duvet cover are waiting. I think I'll change those tomorrow. Maybe I'll try the white sheets. Maybe.... oh, good grief and good night.

Friday, October 2, 2009

Yes, yes, I'm here

So, where were we?

When last we met I was working on the weight thing. Still going, down 22.6 pounds as of today. Yeah, I know it's slow, but isn't it better than being up 22.6 pounds? 30 more (or so) to go. At this rate, I'll be there for summer 2010. That'll work. Gives me time to clean out the 4 sizes of clothes in my closet. I won't have to shop for a long time.

Somehow life ran away with me in the last 5 or 6 weeks. Or I with it. Let's see if we can get back on track.

September was a very challenging time. Two of my dear friends lost their mothers and my second cousin decided to end his life. My cousin is - was - a Catholic priest in Japan and had recently been struggling with mental illness. He destroyed his computer files that held 40+ years of geneology research for which he had traveled the globe. He also destroyed much of the art work he had done during his 20 years in Japan. His remains will stay in Japan. We don't know the details and his siblings don't want to know. I bet he is getting quite a scolding from my great-aunt about this one. We can only think that he was very, very ill and not the man we knew all these years. God bless him and his siblings he leaves behind.

On a much brighter and hopeful note, the charity Long Beach Basket Brigade held their - our - first ever fundraiser in September and we raised somewhere around $12,000, or about 50% of the cost of providing 600 baskets to hungry families in Long Beach at Thanksgiving. Work to go on that front, BUT I have the Pathways to Independence fundraiser next weekend to focus on, so I'll get back to that after Pathways. And, course, my full time job takes some time out of my week.

Which brings me to the other twist September brought - I've developed anxiety. Me. Yes, me. The one who CAN be all things to all people all the time and who can't do a half-assed job because that's just not done. I win awards, I excel, I am the role model, I am the leading practice, I am the overachiever, the leader, the example. I've been through far more stress than a couple of fundraisers balanced with work. A LOT more. And I've been just fine, thank you. Ask my former therapists!

The doctor tells me that racing, flight-or-fight feeling I have, that live wire buzzing inside that wakes me up at night and feels like someone is pushing a stick on my solar plexus is, indeed, your garden variety anxiety.

I'm still not buying it. I think we need Dr. House.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Added incentive

So I've told you about the Weight Watchers and as of last week it was -18.2. Slow and steady. Really, really slow, but beats gaining 18.2.

I wear the same thing to every weigh in. Every one. People at the meeting probably think that's all I own. I don't care. I'll have to change soon as I can now take off the shorts without unbuttoning or unzipping them. But I'll wear them until I have to hold them up.

Today I joined a team of 5 women in a Long Beach weight loss challenge. Apparently someone, somewhere, said that people in Long Beach are fat. Long Beach, California. No offense to my friends who live there or who started life there, but have those same people who called Long Beach fat ever been to Wisconsin? Iowa? Mississippi? Really. I have. I'm telling you, Long Beach is not full of fat people.

Anyway, this challenge is to get Long Beachians/Long Beachers/Long Beachniks to slim down. So we pay $5 a week for the weigh in, we pay an additional $5 if we miss a weigh in AND we pay $2 for every pound or fraction of a pound we gain. The team with the greatest percentage of weight loss wins somewhere around $20,000. SCORE.

You can follow the challenge at www.justinrudd.com and it's called "Long Beach Losers". Our team name is "Winners at Losing". Okay, so I had to come up with a team name on the spot and it's not the most creative, but it will describe us.

Just in case you're wondering, I have no intention of PAYING to gain weight. The additional weekly weigh in also means I can't do the Saturday splurge and still recover for the WW weigh in on Friday or Saturday. No more margarita with guacamole and chips for Friday night dinner after weigh-in. No, now I have to answer for Wednesday, too.

Today I ponyed up my $65 to pay for the whole 13 weeks (commitment!) and stepped on the scale. BUT, I didn't wear my WW weigh in outfit (that weighs 1.8 pounds). Nooooo, I had on a heavy linen blouse and work trousers. Sneaky, eh? NEXT week I'll wear something lighter and then the NEXT week, something lighter still.

Until I have to hold up my clothes.

Monday, August 24, 2009

What should he do?

My husband, who was unceremoniously laid off from his job (three guys in India will be doing his work, namaste), has a new job. This is a very good thing. It doesn't pay quite as much as the old job, but the benefits and security are pretty good. And it pays a whole lot more than no job. A whole lot. So, all and all, this is really pretty good. We get to keep our house, our cars and our lifestyle. See? Good.

He starts September 8th. That's two weeks away. Heck, it was three weeks away from last week when he got the start date.

So, what should he do while he waits? This is pretty much it for any vacation time for the next year as he has to start with only 2 weeks of vacation a year. Soooo, how cool to have two (and it was three) weeks to do ANYTHING you want. What would you do?

Cameron has full flight benefits and a valid passport to go anywhere in the world. Yes, anywhere he can find a seat and he has 21 years of senority (mine) to get him to the front-ish of the line and maybe sit in First Class. He has a long list (the "uber list") of things to do around the house, like finish the bathroom he started remodeling early this year. Or build a fireplace mantle that he was going to do three years ago. He could clean the house, as we let the house cleaner go when he lost his job in April. He could catch up on his Facebook posts and answer those cause and friend requests. He could play golf EVERYDAY if he wanted. He could grocery shop and plan exquisite (WW friendly) meals for his beloved.

What is he doing? Nothing. Oh, he's getting some sleep, watching TV, on the computer, bugging me. Okay, so right this moment he is fixing me dinner. That's good, too.

BUT, he has TWO WHOLE WEEKS!!!!

I'd have a suitcase packed so fast and be out the door like a whirlwind. Here I come Chicago, London, back to Australia, Hawaii, Atlanta, Miami. Heck, I might even visit my new friends in Texas. FREE time off? To do anything and go anywhere??

Men. Don't understand them. But I do appreciate the meals.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

G'Day from a temporary Sheila

One of the many nice things about visiting Australia is they speak English there. Mostly.

It's actually - at times - a lot like the States. Aside from insisting they drive on the left side of the road, but not being able to make up their mind on which side of the sidewalk they should stroll, they use English words as we do, but have very interesting ways of putting them together. Let me share a few idioms used by my friends during our visit, just so you'll know what I'm talking about when they creep-oh-so-naturally into my conversation that won't sound affected at all. Mate.:


"It's a bit 'how's your father (pronounced 'fatha' of course)" - tacky, aging, lipstick on a pig, bawdy, could also mean casual intercourse taken to an extreme. I can't stop using it (not to the extreme) for all and any situation and it's making Cameron nuts. I say it just to say it. He's now insisting on telling me how his father is every time I say it. That won't stop me. I just think he's being a bit how's your father, myself.

"Daggy" - worse than how's your father, it also means a nerd when shortened to "dag". Like Cam. Well, he keeps asking me "Who's your nerd?", so he's my dag.

"Bee's dick" - a very, very, very, teeny, weeny, itsy-bitsy unit of measurement. "The bloody stinga was a bee's dick away from getting me".

"Stinga" - any of the bajillion jellyfish in Australian waters that can - and will - maim and kill you.

"Damper" - it was on a menu and the most I could figure out, it's a biscuit. Really, do I want to eat something called a "damper"? Sounds like a wet nappy. Or something you put dirty clothes in.

"Nappy" - diaper. Wet or dry.

"Tomato sauce" - ketchup. Well, it's descriptive, but not the way we use the term.

"Marinara" - what they *HORRORS* put on nachos (go for the bean mix). And on spaghetti. See, they are a lot like us. When they eat spaghetti.

"Pissing pick handles" - raining really hard. Sounds like it would hurt, too.

"Pegged up" - hung on a clothes line, as in "do you want your wet swimmers pegged up?"

"Swimmers" - bathing suit

"Bonza" - cool!

"Breaky" - also seen spelled "brekky" - breakfast, typically involving eggs and bacon.

"Flat white" - good coffee! Brewed coffee (or espresso) topped with a warm, creamy milk top. Smooth and velvety and mmmmm.

"kip" - a nap, as in "taking another kip, Katie?"

"buoy" - well, same as in the States only they pronounce it "boy"

"Backpackers" - a whole cult of young 20-something travelers that travel the country having way too much fun, carrying all their goods in a backpack and drinking beer. Drinking age is 18 Down Under. One of the backpacking places we passed had rules posted for those staying there. Among the rules? "No nudity in public". Sounds fun. One of the other rules seemed to be the female backpackers were required to wear shorts that were far smaller than any nappy, that required some type of wax treatment and which were unbuttoned in front. Sounds scary.

So, when you ask me about my trip, I'll tell you that I avoided the backpackers and the stingas and that I pegged up my swimmers when I got out of the water. However, I thought I was going to need a nappy when a car coming at me on the left was just a bee's dick away from giving me a permanent kip. All in all, it wasn't the least bit how's your father or daggy, just totally bonza, mate. No worries.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

-17.6

'Nuff said.

Oh, and I still haven't packed.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

G'Day

The whole reason I went to work for an airline was to travel. I love to travel. I've loved it since I was a kid. It never gets old.

Tomorrow night we leave for 11 days in Australia. Well, 10 days, as we end up just skipping August 6. Nevermind, we don't need it. We do get to repeat August 16th, though. This is my fourth trip to Australia. One would think that a 15 hour plane ride - in each direction - is not something to look forward to. I can't wait! I'm just so darned excited about it. We might even get 1st Class! I'm watching the clock now. Waiting for it to be 24 hours before departure so I can check in for the flight. I can't wait! I'm bouncing in my seat!

I have almost a full day of sales calls tomorrow, then the flurry of work emails and things to get done before I leave. My brother will pick us up at 8:15 p.m. for our 10:35 p.m. flight.

Oh! It's time to check in!

I think I better pack.

Monday, August 3, 2009

I'm going to bed now

A long time ago I read a story or article about a woman who was going to bed, leaving her husband to watch TV. On her way to bed she did at least a zillion things before she finally crawled between the sheets, only to find her husband sound asleep already.

Is there a woman out there to whom this has not happened?

Last night Cameron was watching TV, flipping through channels. I was ironing every piece of clothing I'm considering taking to Australia (and which will be packed tightly and well wrinkled upon arrival). I finally finished the pile of ironing and told Cameron I was going to go to bed. It was a little after 11:00 p.m. He mumbled or grunted something about watching TV awhile longer.

I put away the clothes, the iron and the ironing board. I checked to make sure the front door was locked and turned out the porch light. I turned out the living room light. I went into the kitchen and checked to make sure the back door was locked. I wiped down a counter. I turned off the light and walked out.

I walked back into the kitchen, turned the light on and set up the coffee maker for the morning. I put out fresh dish towels. I turned off the light and walked out.

I walked back into the kitchen, turned on the light, checked to see how much milk we had for the coffee. I straightened a pile of newspapers. Then I put them in the recycle bin. I walked out of the kitchen, checked to make sure the sliding glass door was locked and walked into the office.

I walked back out of the office to turn the kitchen light off. Before I did, I took a look around, found that the camera battery I had plugged in earlier was charged, but my BlackBerry was not. Turned on the BlackBerry and found a work-related email. Answered it. Turned off the kitchen light and carried the BlackBerry into the office, where I intended to plug it in.

Another email came in, this time a Facebook notice. I sat down at the computer and pulled up Facebook. Checked on my friends, checked on my profile then closed it out and started to turn off the computer, but remembered I needed to check my yahoo.com email. There was a notice there of another Facebook entry. And a notice of a sale at J Jill. Checked out the jjill.com site. Nothing tonight. Closed out the email, pulled up Facebook again.

Well, as long as I'm on line better check the verizon.net email, too. Better look at those photos from McKenna's birthday party again, too. Ahhh.... Okay, time for bed.

Got up, turned off the screen, checked the front door, the back door and the slider again. All locked. Turned off all the lights. The house was quiet. And dark except for a bedside lamp in the master bedroom down the hall. Walked into the dark media room. No TV on, no husband watching it. Checked the french door to make sure it was locked. It wasn't. Locked it.

Started down the hall to the bedroom, from where I could hear loud snoring. Remembered I needed something from the dive bag for the trip. Turned on the lights again, got out the dive bag, rummaged through it. Found the item, put everything back in the bag, stowed it and took the item to the vacation staging area, aka the guest room.

Went to bed. Started to turn out the light and remembered the BlackBerry wasn't charging. Got up, plugged in the BlackBerry. Decided to check all the locks again.

Went back to bed. It was 12:30 a.m.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

-14.8

Whilst looking for a blog topic, one of my friends suggested I blog about my weight loss journey. (I just wanted to use the word "whilst" there.) She adroitly guessed that perhaps I wasn't ready to share that journey and she was correct. So why am I mentioning it? Perhaps a little extra pressure will keep me on track.

I've been down this road a few times before and successfully arrived at my destination. I've also gotten lost several times and discovered some great places to eat. And opened an Avenue credit card. And shopped those Lane Bryant specials. And discovered which stores carry the larger sizes (Macy's and JCPenney). And did my best to stand in the back of group photos.

But my good sense of direction has also helped. My first successful trip was in 1996 when I lost 61 pounds on a liquid, doctor supervised program. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be, but not very practical for living. The liquid was either a shake or a soup. It scared the beejeezus out of me to even think about eating solid food for awhile. I kept it off about 2 years. I didn't stay scared long, did I?

In 2001, after September 11, I knew life could be fleeting and I'd best make the most of what I had. Good health was first on the agenda and I threw myself into Weight Watchers after Stephanie told me what a great and workable program it was. She hadn't told me the whole truth. It wasn't just workable, it was fantastic! I could eat, I could live, I could lose weight! I knew it wasn't a diet, but a lifestyle and a choice (and you know, if you've read here, I'm all about choice). I became a poster child for the program, literally: I was in a Weight Watcher magazine article, my doctor used me as an example to other patients, I could recite points for just about any type of food. I lost 61 pounds.

Hmmm... 61 pounds. Again.

This time I kept it off for about 3 years. It doesn't come back quickly, so it's hard to say exactly how long, but I started to move up a clothing size in late 2005. I moved up two more in 2006. I'm sure moving, living out of a suitcase, not having a kitchen for months and some marital stress all added pounds, but I had something to do with choosing what I ate. 56 pounds came back. And there I stayed. I have the photos to prove it. I even have the XXL/1X clothes to prove it! But boy did I eat - and drink - well!

Of course, 'nothing tastes as good as skinny feels' and a bad knee, along with fear of diabetes has forced the issue yet again. My brother Tim has diabetes and it runs on both sides of the family. I'm not big on the prospect of insulin injections and I'm really tired of being stopped by knee pain. Not to mention those photos.

So, here I am on that well worn path again, the wheels fitting right into those ruts. I officially started back at Weight Watchers the end of April, but didn't really start working at it until a month or so later. Now I mean it. And I have my friend Jan to meet me there every week. And I have Cameron to support me. And I love a challenge. And I love winning. And now all of you know.

I'll check in from time to time and let you know how the trip is going. I haven't lost any clothing sizes yet, but things aren't binding any more. It's working. I'll hang in there. As of this morning's weigh in I was down 14.8 pounds.

Thursday, July 23, 2009

MY DIY Husband

We live in a 1955 tract home which is built with a raised foundation. This means there is this delightful crawl space under the house meant for creepy crawlies, critters and a Do It Yourself husband.

When we first moved in he was doing so much plumbing and electrical work under the house, I offered to put a mail box outside the opening to the crawl space.

Today he promised that he had just one more trip under the house. Just one and everything would be done. The whole house sound system, moving TV cables to every room and whatever else he was doing.

While he was on his last trip under the house a neighbor came over. As we sat and chatted for a moment I was hearing some strange bumps and knocks. My neighbor looked around, unsure of what was going on. She had no idea Cameron was under the house.

"Katie!!" I heard his muffled yell. Scared, I jumped up. "Yes?! What?! Where are you?!"

"Can I come out now? You've keep me under here all day and I promise I'll be good!"

My neighbor gave me the funniest look.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

I don't believe in coincidence

In the mid to late 1980's, in a spiritual search, I spent some time studying Self-Realization Fellowship and the teachings of Paramahansa Yogananda. If that name sounds a bit familiar, he, aside from founding SRF, wrote "Autobiography of a Yogi" in 1946 and "Swami's Beach" in Encinitas is also named after his ashram that sits on the cliffs above.

In 1988 I quit my job with EFHutton Life/1st Capital Life Insurance Company, sold most of what I owned and bought a one way ticket to Europe where I planned to spend my 401(k) savings and as much time as possible soaking up all things European. Among the few things I took with me were the "Autobiography of a Yogi", a small book of SRF affirmations and a trifold with a picture of Yogananda, Jesus Christ and another Indian spiritual leader meant for a home meditation altar.

One day, while in Dinan, France, I decided I needed to go to Mont St. Michel. I checked the train schedules and decided I could do it in a day. Well, if I got on the right trains. I ended up on a milk run train that had me stuck in a train station in Dol-de-Bretagne for hours. By the time I reached the train station closest to Mont St. Michel it was after 8p, I had had no dinner and the buses had stopped running. The last train that would get me back to Dinan would leave at 10:30p. I had come this far, I decided to walk the 5 km to the Mont, not thinking that it was long closed to the public for the evening.

So I walked. And I walked. And I was hungry. Tres faim! As I rounded a corner I saw the Mont in the distance, out on the sea. And I kept walking. It was now after 9p and I had to decide to walk on and miss the last train or turnaround. I was so close!! I kept walking. It didn't seem to be getting any closer. It was almost 9:30p when I realized I would never make it to either the Mont or the train. I decided, as any wise 31 year old single female on a dark road in France would, to hitchhike back to the train station.

A car approached and I started to walk backwards and stick out my thumb, chickening out at the last moment, turning my back to the approaching Peugeot. A motor in the distance, another car approached, I turn to face the headlights. Mais non, I turned back around. I would not make it to the station, but I started to think of some of the SRF affirmations and a chant I remembered to keep going.

A third car was approaching. I took a deep breath, I turned and put out my thumb. Zut alors! The car stopped! I tentatively approached and behind the wheel was a young woman who look about as scared as I did. In my best "I finished French 5 in college" attempt, I asked for a ride to the train station. She agreed. She spoke no English.

When she asked if I was English and I told her, "Non, je suis Americaine, de Californie." She told me that the only place she knew in California was the ashram of Paramahansa Yogananda, as she had read of it in a book, "L'Autobiographie d'un Yogi." She had just come from a Self-Realization Fellowship meeting to which she had to drive many miles from her home. Did I know of him?

I will close this entry by telling you that she did not drive me to the train station. I would have missed the train, anyway. She drove me all the way back to my hotel in Dinan, more than two hours out of her way. We talked spirituality (en francais) all the way, then I invited her up to my room to choose from some of my possessions as a thank you, as she would not accept any francs. I gave her the address of the SRF in Paris and the trifold picture. She gave me a prayer card and a book of SRF chants she had picked up that day.

I don't believe in coincidences.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

You want me to do what?!

What do two $1600 rifles have in common with 80 pieces of luggage and six surfboards?

Give up? Really? Come on.... take a guess!!!

All need to get on a United flight and today I've been asked to figure out how to do each of them. Three different sets of passengers, three different flights.

Why does a famous chef want to take two rifles to Mongolia via South Korea?

What could three people possibly be taking with them to Washington that needs 80 pieces of luggage?

Six surfboards? Seriously? Six?

My job is all about ending hunger, solving world peace and finding a cure for cancer. Except for the days it's not.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Small world is smaller when you work for an airline

Adventures in travel. It's one of the reasons I work for an airline. Well, it was the only reason I went to work for an airline. It's a lot of what keeps me working for an airline, despite the last several years of doom and gloom.

Our magic carpet. That's what Cameron calls it. Sometimes that carpet flies and sometimes it doesn't.

13 hours to get from LAX to Atlanta? Okay, so some flights left without us but we got to see Maria McWilliams and Renault Banks in LAX. We got to see Sharon Bauserman in Denver. We wouldn't have seen any of them if those flights had gone as planned.

17 hours from Atlanta to LAX? Well, that first flight went smoothly and didn't seen anyone we knew. As we stepped off the plane in Chicago, though... uh oh. There was Maria again. Maria has a year more seniority than I do. She'd been trying to get to LAX all day.

1st flight to LAX for us? We were #32 and 34 out of 68 for ZERO seats. Time to reconnect with old friends. Maria called up David Robinson and I sent out a Facebook SOS, as well as a couple of emails. Hey, if we weren't stuck I wouldn't have talked to Lu or David R or David L! Next flight wasn't any better. No, we were #52 and 53 out of 93. With zero seats available.

Next flight? Oh no. Renault. Renault is retired and he was #30 on the list with no seats. I looked up to see Michael Burny in line for the flight. I was so happy to see him! Not just because I like Michael so much, but he has LESS seniority than I do!!! Someone else I knew would be on the list with a higher number than one of ours. Someone new to hang out with in O'Hare.

No, that wasn't the plan. Michael was on positive space as he happened to plan a sales call in Chicago that day. The same day that everyone else is trying to fly after a holiday. The same day that everyone wants to get to LA for Michael Jackson's funeral. Michael Burny got on the flight.

Lu saved the day with his creativity and we ended up in the last two seats - as David R texted us through the DM countdown - on a flight to Salt Lake City. But our flight was late and we were not going to make the connection on UA SLC-LAX. But WAIT!! The flight to LAX was using the very airplane we just came in on.

And guess who just happened to get the last two seats on that flight to LAX? In First Class?

I hope Renault and Maria got home.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Readjusting to the new order

So, what does one do when everything is out of order? When everything is in DISORDER?

Why, go for a facial and massage of course!

On Monday when the DISORDER was about to overwhelm, I received an email from a local day spa. "Book an appointment today and get a FREE 15 minute extra treatment!" Well, guess who just happened to have a leftover gift card to said day spa with $115 on it, left over from 2007? YEP!

As I settled in for my free 15 minute hot stone massage I realized that THIS was exactly what I needed!! A little time for me, a little pampering, a little all-about-Katie escape and all starting to shift back into place.

Cameron is still unemployed. I still miss Nancy. Phoebe is still an old cat. But just that brief escape propelled me forward. I've even made some travel plans. Now that's what I call order!

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Disorder

On June 9 my friend Nancy passed away. 51 years young. We said our formal good-byes, as a group, at her funeral on June 16th. I am glad her pain is over and I am grateful for her friendship that goes on forever in my heart. I miss her. This is the first loss I have felt to this depth. I have been so lucky to have little loss in my life and even less that is out of order.

You know, the order: great-grandparents and grandparents go first. It's the order. Someday my parents will follow, although I've got some very healthy and active parents so we plan for them to be around a loooong time. Attending McKenna's college graduation would be nice for them (21 years from now)! Let's go for dancing at her wedding, too. So, with the exception of a beloved cousin-by-marriage who was tragically murdered at just 22 years old in 1990, I have been very, very fortunate. Life and the circle of life has had order. Even though I miss my granny goose every day, when she died at age 89 in 2000, it was the order.

Perhaps that's why Nancy's passing has hit me so hard, aside from losing a dearly loved friend and confidante. It's DISORDER. It's not the order in which things are supposed to happen, it's something I was not able to control or make better.

Life beyond Nancy is a little messy. It's DISORDER. I'm not comfortable with that. At all. Although I've kept up with work and social obligations since Nancy passed away, I've felt adrift and disconnected since June 9th. I've wanted to be alone, I've wanted to do absolutely nothing which is out of character for this Type A driven person, I've slept in, I've stayed up really, really late. I've actually left dirty dishes on the counter for more than 20 minutes and didn't care. The other morning I left the house for the day without first cleaning all the coffee maker parts. Unthinkable! DISORDER!!!

Cameron being out of a job is in the mix of my feeling disorder, although he continues to make more than I do with his severance and unemployment pay. He has an interview on Monday, but only for practice as the job is not anything in which he's interested. That's good. He needs the interview practice for the fab job that is coming. And he'll be out of the house. = ] I admit, I'm going a little nuts with him home all day while I'm working. Not anything he's doing or not doing - just out of order. It's DISORDER!

For the first time in 3 years my cat, Phoebe, has fleas - DISORDER! She is 16+ years old and I thought she was going to have a heart attack when I gave her a flea shampoo yesterday. She didn't, but neither did the fleas. I found a couple today after all that and after putting flea medication on her neck. I hate fleas. I can't control them. DISORDER there, too.

So, I think I have to figure out a way to get most of the order back in my life. Or learn to embrace disorder? Maybe a bit of disorder isn't horrible, but I really need order. Speaking of ordering, may I have a margarita, please? Make it two, one for Nancy. Cheers.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Life this month

The month started with Cameron losing his job as an engineer at Honeywell Turbo Charging Systems in Torrance. Not a great start... But he has a wonderful severance package that takes us through most of September. I'll think it's great until it runs out, but we hope to have him gainfully employed long before then.

Next up? A quick trip to San Francisco to have dim sum with our dear friend Victor and his partner, in from Switzerland. Everyone should be able to hop on a plane at a moment's notice to see an old friend. That's why I work in the biz, afterall.

Next? A great visit from Nathalie, Laurie and Amelia Blavin-Kakone during which baby birds hatched in a nest outside our kitchen window.

Mother's Day brought most of the clan together and we made a point of seeing Vern, grieving for Ruth as we all are.

A last minute trip out to the desert to meet up with Robbie over Memorial Day turned into a delightful and memorable weekend as we met up with some the most interesting and entertaining people at her sister's home in Palm Springs. Artists, poets, scholars, sales folks and us. Followed by a fabulous meal with Jo, Horst and Marilyn the next morning in Indio.

Vern has made up his mind to move into assisted living pretty quickly. That's a blessing for him to realize he can't keep up Ruth's house alone and he's choosing his own place without any cajoling from us or Karen.

Underlying all this month, though, since May 16th, is the decline of my dear friend Nancy. Nancy and I went to Westminster High together until I moved out to Villa Park half way through 9th grade. That summer her family moved to Villa Park, too, and we became dearest friends. Somewhere in college we lost touch, and didn't reconnect until just after our 20th VPHS reunion when Laura was kind enough to search Nancy out for me. We've not lost touch since.

Nancy first had cancer markers show up in November 2006. She was diagnosed with lung cancer in January 2007. She never smoked, ever. I was with her the day she went to get her head shaved in April 2007. She responded well to the chemo for awhile and then the cancer moved to her brain. More chemo and radiation seemed to keep the cancer at bay for a year. We celebrated her 50th birthday in August 2007, we met regularly for lunch or breakfast.

Nancy found an acupunturist who promised he could cure her. Nancy believed, with all her heart, that God and the acupuncturist (and some help from the doctors) would absolutely cure her. She had no fear. She knew God was with her.

In July 2008 the cancer was found in her bones and she began to slow down a bit. She also struggled with pneumonia. On April 1 this year - just last month - she sent a note out to a group of friends on email and let us know that the latest scan had shown the cancer in her liver. She was determined that the acupuncture would work, that she wouldn't need the chemo the doctor wanted her to start on April 14. She ended the note stating "It will all be okay. I will get through this."

She told me in a phone conversation just under two weeks later than she was going to do the chemo, as the acupuncturist told her she should. It broke my heart when she said "That's when I realized I'm very sick." I could no longer deny that she was very sick, either.

This round of chemo was very rough on Nancy. She had to have her lungs drained, she was incredibly weak and even had to have an ambulance come and take her from the chemo room across the street to the hospital. Her telling of that story to us (Friend of Nancy - FON) in an email on April 15th was full of hope, and great humor. I will post it here one day.

I last spoke with Nancy on the phone the May 5th or 6th. I called her at work and her out of office message hadn't been changed in a few day. I worried. I called her at home and she answered. She'd just finished another difficult round of chemo, having her lungs drained yet again, and was with her mom, getting comfortable and planning on a nap. I said I would call her later in the week.

I didn't.

Her husband Doug called me on May 16th to tell me that he was bringing her home from the hospital for hospice care. WTF?! Hospital? She was in the hospital??!! Hospice care? She was just working full time. I was calling to set up our next breakfast. No, no, no...hospice care is for people who are dying. Nancy assured me she isn't dying..... She assured me God would cure her. She promised me!

I have been to see Nancy four times since then. Each time there is less and less of her in that shell that lies in the bed. My first visit, May 18th, she was lucid and talking, some garbled speech, but she knew me and called out to me as I walked in the room. That was the last she was able to speak with me. I did get the smallest movement of a raised eyebrow yesterday, but she can no longer see or speak. She weighs nothing, she looks more like a 100 year old bald man than the vibrant 51 year old she should be. She isn't Nancy.

The FON email circle was born from the last email Nancy sent her friends on April 15th. One of the women sent a note to all of us and now we all keep each other updated with the tiniest sliver of news. Doug sends text updates to a few throught the day and one updates the rest of us. Anyone who goes to visit reports back. We've shared stories, both somber and funny - mostly funny, and we are lifting her up together.

It's amazing that she has been home for two weeks without any sustenance and yet still she is with us. We dread hearing she is gone, we pray for her quick release.

Life this month has been about living. And life this month has been about living beyond this lifetime. I miss my friend Nancy.