Paws for Reflection

Finishing a Sentence...

I love these things!

Finish The Sentence Survey

1. My ex.... is someone that I hope one day finds happiness, but doubt that he ever will. I learned alot from him, although I don't believe I learned the things he wanted to teach me.

2. Maybe I.... will sell my house and travel the world. One day I may take a big bag of yarn and travel the entire globe, crocheting in different countries and having cocktails with strange people.  How delicious that sounds!

3. I love.... Baked Cheetos, sunrises on foreign beaches, meeting new people in strange places, minty dark chocolate and Earl Grey tea with milk and cardamom.  Oh, and of course my friends and family.  I think the world would be a much darker place without the people that make my life a brighter place.

4. People would say that I'm.... (I don't think I'm allowed to use that kind of language on the Internet!)

5. I don't understand why.... the things that come out of my dog smell 3,000,000 times worse than the things that went in her!

6. When I wake up in the morning.... I like to stretch until my muscles burn.  Then I need coffee almost immediately, or people start to get little teeny red bullseyes in strategically painful places in my mind's eye.

7. I lost.... a lot of respect for one of my idols when he asked me to lie for him.  It was a crushing moment that did a lot to damage my faith in people.

8. Family is .... the greatest gift that I have ever received.  They support me in my madness, knock the legs off my high horse, and think I'm beautiful even when I'm doing the cross-eyed zombie dance in a drunken stupor. 

9. My past is.... a series of events that have made me who I am.  I often wonder about "where I'd be if...", which takes me to some really strange places.  Of course, looking at my present, my future is either going to be really great or an entire season on Jerry Springer.

10. I get annoyed when.... people settle for mediocrity.  I think we have an obligation as human beings to work towards our best selves, always, and I get irked that the majority of people avoid doing so because it's "hard".

11. Parties are.... better with a small number of people, a great selection of music, and some deliciously crunchy snacks.  Everything is better fried, seriously.

12. I wish.... I was independently wealthy so that I could spend my life traveling and discovering all the weird things that the world has to offer.  I'd especially love to go into the places and do the things that are completely off the wall, so that I could share them with all of my friends that have always wanted to do those things, but don't have the time, the money or the courage.

13. Dogs.... have an amazing ability to grow (and shed) hair.  If we could harness their hirsute secrets, Rogaine would be a thing of the past, and the combover would fade into the annals of history.

14. Cats.... are only cool when they're bald. My nephew is really allergic to cats, and I don't think they're fabulous enough to even think about getting one.  I used to have a long haired Persian years ago that seriously was a minion of Satan.  I have never met an animal so evil, and I swear he had copies of Machiavelli's "The Prince"and Sun Tzu's "The Art of War" hidden behind his litter box for easy reference.

15. Tomorrow.... is Saturday, and I have a 24 hour shift at the firehouse.  I'm pretty tired, and not really looking forward to it, and I'd much rather be at the house realizing how badly I suck at "Dance, Dance Revolution" on the Wii.  However, it's entirely possible I'll change my mind the minute I put on my uniform and throw my gear on the ambulance.

16. I have a low tolerance.... for deliberate ignorance.  Not really much else to say - there it is.

17. If I had a million dollars.... I'd be packing my yarn, prepping my liver, and paying off all my mom's debts.  I'd also probably have to buy about a thousand postcards to send from every place I traveled to so that my mom wouldn't worry.

18. I'm totally terrified.... of really dark, deep water.  In reality, I know that the chances of me dying painfully from a shark bite in the middle of the ocean are infinitesimal, but the little non-swimming people gibbering in my hindbrain are not really amenable to reason.

19. My spouse.... is a subject that looks astonishingly like a dead horse in a dry desert.  I tried marriage once, and it was just like the Chicken Pox - I was really hot in the beginning, I got tired, I slept a lot, and then I woke up and was cured. Huzzah!

20. My life....  will read like a cross between Tolstoy and the Sweet Potato Queens by the time I'm done.  It may even develop into a cool TV mini-series like "North and South", and I hope they get somebody really hot like Patrick Swayze to play the leading man. 

THE END

Wednesday's Child... Not Full of Woe at All.

I'm on duty tonight at the station, covering for a friend who's sick.  It's been fairly busy here tonight, car accidents and injuries across the county - just enough to keep us hopping and make getting something for dinner almost more of a challenge than it's worth.  But something happened tonight that once again gives me that little kick that reminds me why I do this.

We got dispatched at about half past 9 o'clock tonight for a sickness call - nothing unusual there - but the additional dispatch information was a bit odd - "woman bleeding, 39 weeks pregnant, contractions one minute apart."  EEEEK!  It was initially a bit strange that this was dispatched as a sickness, not as an OB, and that there was a medic added to the call in addition to the ambulance, but it turned out for the best in the end.

The initial scene was a bit chaotic, as these things often are - Mom is laying on the hallway floor, in active labor, Dad is standing behind her, looking distraught, still holding the phone, and there are six strangers all carrying bags suddenly in the entryway.  We had her hooked up to the monitors within the first two minutes we were on scene, and as soon as we verified that her contractions were indeed only about a minute apart (the longest was a minute and 10 seconds), we knew that it was time to hunker down and get ready to catch a baby - it's not a good idea to start moving the mother when contractions are that close together.  Mom was MOST unhappy with our decision, since we had no pain meds to give her, and I felt terrible, but we explained that it was the safest option for her and her baby, and she acquiesced, albeit a tad grumpily.  I ended up at Mom's head holding her hand and monitoring her breathing, while my crew fetched her cool towels and ice chips and the boys on the medic unit hunkered down to catch her boy. 

Mom said that her water had broken about 9:30, and almost as soon as we had her settled on the blankets we put down on the carpet she said that she needed to push - YOWZA!  I took a moment in my own head to sympathize with this woman who was lying on her living room floor, naked from the waist down, with a half a dozen strangers watching her writhe in pain.  I must have reassured her a hundred times that she was in good hands and that we wouldn't let anything happen to her or her baby, and I felt for her embarrassment - her whisper that she had to go to the bathroom, her worry that she was making a mess.  I am glad for her sake that there were two females on crew tonight - I cannot imagine one of the guys holding her hand, stroking her forehead and reassuring her that it would all be OK.  She was in a pretty decent amount of pain - her abdomen was rock hard, she was sweating profusely, and she had a death grip on her husband with her right hand and on me with her left.  Her husband was trying to reassure her to the best of his ability, but I think he was just as terrified.  I don't normally offer effusive compassion to my patients, but as I was kneeling on this woman's living room floor, my numb fingers bloodless in her grip, looking directly into her eyes as she whispered to me that she was scared - I would have promised her anything she wanted to hear to alleviate her fear.  I am incredibly thankful that the birth was textbook perfect, and that there were nothing but good things to convey - I had a crew with me that was experienced, that was cohesive, and all of us played our parts to perfection - even the universe, since every single moment of the birth went smoothly. 

I will say that I am not a fan of delivering children - it is a messy, chaotic process that had enormous potential to go wrong.  There is enormous responsibility conferred and great vigilance required during a birth - even a perfect one - as you have not one but two patients, both fragile in their symbiosis and achingly vulnerable to even the slightest danger.  However, I have been present at more than a few, and every time I am awed. 

A poet named William MacNeile Dixon once said: "Birth is the sudden opening of a window, through which you look out upon a stupendous prospect. For what has happened? A miracle. You have exchanged nothing for the possibility of everything."  The incredible thing about being present at a birth is that you can feel the miracle.  There is an intimacy that happens, even when you have bright lights shining in your eyes, equipment strewn everywhere, and a dozen people around you performing menial tasks - everyone's focus is on the arrival of new life - your hands may be busy, your mouth may be moving, but your ears are listening, straining to hear that first wavering cry.  For every moment that the silence grows, your shoulders tense and your neck tightens, until the first mewling cry sounds out, and every one gives a silent sigh of relief and goes about their tasks with a somewhat lighter heart.

I lived all of those things tonight - Mom was only in labor for 18 minutes, but it seemed an eternity to those of us kneeling on the beige carpet in the hallway.  We bit our lips in sympathy every time she cried out with a contraction, we formed assembly lines to maneuver around the scene debris to get her cold washcloths and ice chips, we all leaned just a bit forward when Bob announced that she was crowning, and we, every one of us, held our breaths as his head and shoulders cleared the birth canal.  He was born in a rush, amniotic fluid gushing out behind him, and though he was born face down, he began to cry the moment Bob turned his face up to the light.  He was loud for a little guy, and his cry was strong and disgruntled, which is a more positive sign than you might think.  If you were suddenly thrust from somewhere warm and comfortable and safe into an environment that was loud and bright and cold - don't you think you'd be a little torqued off?  That's why disgruntled babies are good - cry away, little man, it lets us know you're healthy.

I think I got baby responsibility by virtue of being the closest person to Bob, but I don't mind.  I have a slew of nieces and nephews, and Baby Charlie, at 8lbs 2oz, was actually almost twice as big as my last nephew when he was born.  I always forget how small they are, and how perfect.  Charlie came out with a full head of dark hair, tiny stubbly eyelashes, ten tiny fingers with slightly blue nails, and perfect little feet that he immediately tried to tuck up for warmth.  We got him bundled up in a blanket and put a stocking cap on his head, while he stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked on his thumb or his fingers all the way to the hospital.

It's pretty critical to keep babies warm after birth, and since it was fairly chilly out tonight, we broke out our hypothermia reflective blanket, and wrapped it around the bunting we had initially put Charlie in.  The reflective blankets are a space age polymer that looks like really flexible aluminum foil - it's a bright shiny silver and crackles when you move it.  The boys joked about the reflective blanket being necessary to ward off my death rays (which thus far are limited to technology), but he really looked like a little mini burrito wrapped in foil - one Charlie Chipotle, coming up! 

So we kept Charlie warm, and got Mom bundled up, and delivered Mom and baby to the hospital with no problems whatsoever. I started to relax at this point, thinking it's all over, and I realize what a good job we've all done, and how well things have really gone.  They are here in the hospital, there are nurses and doctors taking over, and our job is pretty much done.  I've turned Charlie over to a nurse who cleans him up and puts him under a warming lamp, and I've helped the nurses get Mom into a gown and situated on the bed. And then the coolest moment of the whole event happens: I'm standing there in the Birthing Center, holding Mom's hand as the nurses try to deliver the afterbirth, and I look over at Dad, standing by the incubator, just inside the circle of light cast by the warming lamp.  He's just standing there, hands in his pockets, completely still, but there's this look on his face that's incredible.  He had explained to us before that he was in Iraq when his daughter was born, and that he had missed much of the experience of being a father by being away at war.  I looked over at him, contemplating his son, and you could see in his face how moved he was - how awed he was by the miracle of this tiny person who had emerged from the chaos of this evening and was sleeping, perfectly content and at peace, as if all was right with the world. 

I'm not a very religious person, and I'm not inclined to sentiment, but it's been said that a child is God's opinion that life should go on, and tonight I'm inclined to agree.

Welcome to world, Charlie.  May your life be as beautiful as your birth.

What Friends Are For...

Most who know me are aware that things are not going quite so hot right now - and that the current state of my life, were it a TV show, would put most debacle-ridden reality programs to shame.  However, there is always a silver lining, and the hard times that have come recently have made me aware more than ever of the linings that shine in my dark clouds - I have never been more aware of how blessed I am to be surrounded by good friends and good people.

I try as much as possible to be a healthy individual - I feed my mind every day, I try to feed my body as healthily as possible (damn you, O Maker of Delicious and Crunchy Cheetos), and I feed my soul as often as I can.  Several years ago I went through a "cleansing" - I took a good hard look at the people that I called friend, and I made a list of those who made my life a brighter place, and a list of those that drained my energy, but with whom I had kept ties for reasons of family, obligation, habit, what have you. I ended up sitting down with the "drainers", and asking them to help me be more positive - some of them made a sincere effort, and we remain close.  Some did not, and I let the ties be severed. 

Amazingly, it made a difference.  I am always wary of "Dr. Phil" type solutions - I find most of them are simplistic and very difficult to maintain while living a normal life - but this one worked for me.  I found that I had outgrown, or perhaps more accurately grown in a different direction, than some of the people in my circle, and it was time to part ways.  I made a choice to surround myself with people that supported and contributed to the positive life I was trying to build, and I have never regretted it. 

I tell you all that to tell you this: While I have known for some time that I am surrounded by people whose presence in my life is a gift, I have never truly appreciated their value until now. 

It seems lately as if every aspect of my life, from family to work to the house, etc., has reached the intersection of crisis - and that all of them are in the process of simultaneous implosion.  I'm not usually a person who has trouble coping, but lately I am feeling more than a teeny bit overwhelmed. 

I have also never been a person who reaches out - I am extremely independent, to a fault usually, and hate to rely on anyone.  Lately, though, I have been reaching out - talking to friends about my frustrations, about my fears, about my hopes - seeking advice, seeking feedback, seeking words of support or even a smack upside the head to snap me out of it. 

I have been astonished, no - ASTOUNDED, at how well I have been received.  I have had every friend that I sought out willingly give me an ear, lend me a hand, and give me very well-thought out and timely advice.  I have found that at the end of every rope I reach, instead of tying a noose, there has been a friend there lending a hand in helping me tie things all back together. 

For those of you that are a friend - I am more grateful than words can say.  I hope one day to be able to return the favor.

For those of you that don't know me, appreciate your friends, and never underestimate the power you can have to change someone's life - what may seem like something trivial to you can be worldchanging to someone else. 

(And on a side note, I'd like to send a shout out to my girl Dora, who listens amazingly well, and has developed her own sign language to let me know when I'm being a bore, and need to snap out of it.  It's amazing what kind of reality check a 120lb dog learning to "play dead" on her own while you talk will give you...)

The Price of Nice

Sometimes I feel like the love child of Rodney Dangerfield and the Rolling Stones - not only can I get no respect, I can't get no satisfaction.

I recently had a very disheartening conversation - after a long, tough week - that, instead of helping me resolve some of the issues I've been having within the fire department only succeeded in bringing my feelings of disgust and disillusionment to all new levels. There were a lot of things that were said that were disheartening, disappointing, and downright ill conceived and better left unsaid - but like in every worldview-changing conversation, there was what I like to call a Defining Moment. The defining moment last night was when one of the senior officers in our department, a man with decades of service under his belt, looked me in the eye and told me that he felt I should be a "kinder, gentler, nicer person."

Huh. Let's take a look at what that means. (Definitions provided by my favorite book ever - Merriam Webster's dictionary at www.m-w.com)

Kinder - of a sympathetic or helpful nature.  I don't have much sympathy, but I have plenty of empathy, and I've never failed to offer help or refused those who ask.  Ever.

Gentler - free from harshness, sternness, or violence.  You've kind of got me there.  I may at times be construed as harsh, as I don't believe in prevarication or artifice, but I would never consider myself to be stern, or particularly violent with anything other than my vocabulary.

Nicer - showing fastidious or finicky tastes : particular : exacting in requirements or standards.  Interesting that this definition comes before the ones that imply docility or virtue.  I think that I am VERY exacting in my requirements and standards, and particularly fastidious in most things I do. 

So, after I thought about it for a while, and failed to see how I lacked any of these qualities, I decided that what he must have meant is that he wants me to be more OBEDIENT. Interestingly enough, if you look obedient up in a thesaurus, this is what you get:

amenable, compliant, conformable, docile, acquiescent, agreeable, amiable, obliging, decorous, disciplined, mannerly, controllable, governable, manageable, gentle, meek, mild

Yeah, I'm pretty sure he meant obedient.  Who likes someone who points out your flaws, even when it's meant to help you grow?

{A side note for those just tuning in... that conversation pissed me off in the most incredible way - AND I AM STILL ANGRY.}

When did we become a people so focused on façade that we failed to see beneath the surface? I don't think that anyone should be a jerk just for the sake of being a jerk, but when did we become so shallow that a person's value is completely dependent on how they are perceived, instead of on who they are and what they do?  I may be barking up the completely wrong tree, and my people-value priorities may be completely fucked up, but I will judge you on the quality of your soul, not the prettiness of your paper wrapping.

After all, Ted Bundy was an awfully charming guy. 

Always had a friendly word for people. 

Described as a "very nice man" by most of the people he came in contact with.

He killed and raped 35 women and played sexual games with their corpses. 

I'm so tired of people epitomizing "nice". Nice is overrated.  Nice is overvalued.  Nice is how they describe the Stepford Wives.  Nice doesn't get things done.

Don't just take my word for it  - here's a small excerpt from a book called Don't be Nice, Be Real by Kelly Bryson.  Check it out:

The Price of Nice

Here are just a few of the costs:
1. Always being nice prevents people around you from receiving congruent feedback that would stimulate their growth. (By growth I mean gaining knowledge of oneself and others.)

2. "Nice" people often react with pain if anyone around them expresses uncomfortable feelings. They get angry, thinking others should have to be nice too. Or they feel hurt and confused if someone does not appreciate their niceness. Others often sense this and avoid giving them congruent feedback thereby effectively blocking the nice person’s emotional growth.

3. With “nice” people you never know where you really stand. The nice person allows others to accidentally oppress them. The “nice” person might be resenting you just for talking to them, because really they are needing to pee. But instead of saying so, they stand there nodding and smiling, with legs tightly crossed, pretending to listen (lights are on but nobody’s home).

4. You never know with a nice person if the relationship would survive a conflict or angry confrontation. This uncertainty of course greatly limits the depths of intimacy possible.

5. Do you really trust a “nice” person to back you up if confrontation were really needed?

6. Often people in relationship with nice people turn their irritation toward themselves because it is so confusing how they could be so upset with someone so “nice.” In intimate relationships this leads to guilt, self hate and depression.

7. “Nice” people frequently keep all the anger in until they find a safe place to dump it, i.e., a child, a federal building to blow up, a helpless dependent mate. (Timothy McVeigh, the suspect in the Oklahoma City bombing is described by acquaintances as a very, very nice guy, who would give you the shirt off his back.) Success in keeping the anger in will often manifest as psychosomatic illnesses (ulcers, back problems, heart disease, etc.).

So, really, it's important that I be NICER? 

I'll tell you what - I'm not malicious, I'm not spiteful, I'm not mean. I tell it like I see it, and I don't ever say anything just to be hurtful - I try and ensure that everything I say has a purpose.  I go out of my way to help those that need it, and I don't judge people - ever.  I'm definitely not the "nicest" person on the block - I've got a reputation for saying things that people don't want to hear - even if they need to.  I've found, however, that denying ugliness exists doesn't ever make it go away, and most of the time the longer something is ignored, the uglier it grows.  I prefer to nip it in the bud- I'm much better equipped to deal with a snowball than an avalanche. 

Sure, I can work on being more user friendly. Sure, I can work on trying to clean up my language. We all can use improvement - and that's a good thing, I think.  If everybody was perfect, I can't imagine that the world would be very interesting. 

But to the officer that missed all of my good points and made me feel like a jerk - I'll work on being nicer. You work on learning how to be a leader and how to talk to people constructively.  Hopefully one day we'll both be able to meet in the middle and acknowledge each other's strengths.  Failing that, maybe we'll just agree to disagree.

Today is a Good Day.

The last few days have been trying - a 48 hour shift at the Fire Department, which though spent in good company, was interminably long - and a water disaster in the house that now requires me to shell out a good bit of money to repair water damaged ceilings, fixtures and hastens the renovation of my bathroom.  They say these things come in threes...if so, YIKES.

However, today was good day - shockingly so, and completely unexpectedly. 

I got a phone call today, from an old, old friend.  We had talked, he and I, at great length and heatedly, during the months of the Presidential campaign.  We have known each other since we were children, and had used the comfort of that familiarity to bond together on some things, and vehemently disagree on others.  He had called me, distraught, when Hillary dropped from the race. 

Angry, disillusioned, feeling betrayed by his party and frightened of the things he had heard, he told me that he was going to vote for John McCain.  I was floored - here is a person who has been a staunch Democrat his whole life - who would be personally and adversely affected by the policies of a McCain administration, even more so than he had been by Bush. 

Don't misunderstand me - I have many, many friends who reside on the Republican side of the political line, many who are Democrats, and quite a few more who don't bother with politics at all.  I respect everyone's right to choose who they vote for, and as I like to vote without anger and recrimination from those I call friend, I extend that same attitude to others.  So, it wasn't that I was angry or disgusted that he was choosing to vote Republican, it was that I was shocked he would take so drastic a step from what I had always thought to be his beliefs.  Then, to my horror, he called me a few weeks after his McCain declaration, this time to tell me that he had decided not to vote at all. 

As I have said before, I define myself in large part through my service to my community, and to my country.  I am a public servant, and if I am lucky I shall remain so for the entirety of my life.   I take very seriously my responsibilities as a citizen, and I feel that one of my primary duties as a citizen is to vote, as it is the duty of every citizen and the price that a democracy demands.  (The prime benefit of voting, of course, is that I have free reign to bitch about whoever wins the office - since I had a voice in the process that put them there.)  I was horrified to hear that he was not going to vote - to me it was almost as if he was renouncing his citizenship. 

I spent hours over the following days on the phone with him, talking about the issues, discussing the candidates, sharing with him my hopes for the future and listening to his dreams of what a more perfect America should be.  I tried very hard not to influence his choices with my own opinion - and I ended every conversation with an admonition - 'I don't care who you vote for, as long as you vote."

Well, he did.  To this day, I don't know who he voted for, and I don't care - it's not my business - but I am overjoyed that he made it to the polls, and added his voice to the vote. 

He called me today, after the inauguration speech, to thank me.  I wasn't sure, at first, what he was talking about, but he said that he wanted to thank me, for not giving up, and for making him listen, when his anger and his bitterness might have shut his ears.  He isn't any more sure than any of us that things are going to get better, but he is able to listen now, and to hope, and to participate.  He is a participating citizen of a country that is learning how to adapt to meet the challenges that are coming, and it is incredibly rewarding that I had a part in helping him get there. 

So, today is a good day.  I can only hope that there are many more good days to come - I will continue to give of myself, as long as I am able, in the hopes that I can help those who in turn will help others, perpetuating a cycle that never ends.

Where's the Beef?

It's been a tumultuous few days here - I'm sure that those of you that are local and have watched the news have heard about the current scandal in my county - the dissolution of one of our volunteer fire departments by the County Board of Supervisors.  There have been reports, rumors, town hall-type meetings and tears, tidbits on the news and phone calls from concerned citizens. What a mess.

There have been rumors for years about the goings-on at the station that was dissolved - but rumors are nothing new.  Enclose any group of people in a limited amount of space for a long time, constrain their ability to leave, and I guarantee you that there will be rumor, and gossip, and conversation that ventures well into the realm of conjecture - that's human nature.  Short of imposing a ban on talking or requiring everyone in the fire service to take a vow of silence, there's not too much that you can do about it either - it's just something that comes with the territory that we try and keep productive.

 

I don't mean to denigrate or single out the fire service - far from it.  Every profession does it - the water cooler is not an urban legend, and every organization has one.

EVERYONE TALKS.

There are those who talk for the noise or because they love the sound of their own voice.  Those that talk and snipe and make commentary at inappropriate times and have nothing positive to say. Those that sit back and listen and comment once they've digested everything.  Those that focus on solving the problem and try to highlight the positives of any situation. 

You know the talkers - you're related to them, you work with them, you stand in line behind them at the grocery store and you sit next to them on the Metro. You see them in the mirror.  It's human nature - we're social creatures - pack animals in the most basic sense - and we love to jabber.

The challenge is to keep it productive - keep it positive - keep it as close to factual as possible.  Sometimes, no lie, this is only possible using the following method:

 

It's pretty hard to talk shit when you're unconscious.

As you might have guessed, since the dissolution of one of volunteer companies yesterday the rumor mill has been operating on hyperspeed.  I'm kind of surprised that the county hasn't levitated right of the map with all of the buzz in play right now.  In all seriousness, that the station was being investigated is no great surprise. The findings from the audit report weren't even a surprise. Many of the recommendations for fixing the perceived problems even make quite a bit of sense, and there are plenty of tidbits that are "good business sense" that we can use to improve our own operations - though we were in no way involved in the mess of that department.  Though the emotions are running high right now, everyone is on the defensive and there is plenty of talk about dirty tactics and hidden agendas - all of that may or may not be true, but my issue with the whole situation is a bit different.  My issue is respect. 

There is not enough space, not enough time, and not enough energy left in my body to go into the whole situation in detail, but let's suffice it to say that if the manner in which this whole process was conducted was conveyed correctly to me - there is a serious lack of respect in this county.

I understand that the chief of the investigated station has been called onto the carpet, and I understand that there is grave concern with his judgment on certain matters not involving the public - but his station was staffed, his people responded, and he still served his county for many, many years.  I could be totally wrong, but I was told tonight that he had 50 years in as a volunteer - that's a hell of a long time, and regardless of his current situation, should get the man respect. 

There is talk of the intent to take the county to an all-paid system similar to Fairfax County, and people fear that we will be relegated to "second-class citizens" in our own county.  I've got news for you - we're not very respected now, and there are some factions that already consider us to be second class.  I'm not pointing fingers, and I'm not naming names, but whichever side of the line you stand on, whether it be paid or volunteer, you have fans and detractors on both sides.  Again, it's a lack of respect. 

I also think that we've forgotten what we're all here for - I've said it before, and I'll say it again - our first and most important priority is always going to be the care of our communities.  We are here, whether we are paid to be here or giving of our time from the goodness of our hearts, to serve our community - it is our obligation, it is our duty, and it is our privilege to be able to put on a uniform and serve the needs of the people we live amongst.  The public doesn't see the pay stubs that some of us take home.  The public doesn't care how many hours a year we dedicate to the ambulance or the fire truck in addition to our full time jobs and our kids and our families. 

They don't care why we do what we do, or what side of the line we're on - only that we come when they call us, and that we help them when they have no one else to ask.

There's a lot of anger tonight on the volunteer side, and there's a growing fear for the future of the fire service in our county, but most of all there's a sense of bewilderment - how did this happen?  When did we, as volunteers, become a burden - instead of a partner?  How can you look at us and not see the value in the support that we give, the enormous amount of time that we provide, or the effort we invest in our community?  Why is the question on the table "How can we remove or marginalize the volunteers?" instead of "How can we ALL learn to work more effectively together so that we can best service our community?" 

Here's my newsflash for the evening:

NEITHER SIDE IS PERFECT.  Even better - NEITHER SIDE WILL EVER BE PERFECT.

At the end of the day, I would love to say that we are working towards a day when we will no longer be needed, but that's just not the case.  Terrible things will always happen - people will get hurt, buildings will burn, and people will pick up the phone and call us and hope that we can save them. 

And we will do our best - always.

It's our choice, now, our opportunity - in this moment - to define what our best will be.  Will it be both sides of the equation working together - actively, productively, willingly?  Or will it be a united front that shows on the surface but covers a seething mass of conflict and secret ill-will?

I have a very good reason for wanting the emergency services in this county to be as cohesive and whole as they can be.  He's 5, has an incredible talent for finding trouble, and doesn't like sauce on his pasta.  He also likes crayons better than markers, adores his Aunt Mel (smart kid!), and has several medical issues - the least of which is severe asthma.  He's beautiful (he looks just like me!)...

...and for now he's ok, but I may have to call 911 someday and depend on those who answer to save my nephew's life.  I want those who answer to have dedicated all of their time and energy to ensuring that they are the best, not worrying about petty power struggles or using their energy to feed the "us vs. them" mentality.  We are all here for the same purpose, and it's not to advance an agenda, or own the most equipment, or even to run the most calls.

We're here for the people of our communities, and they are counting on us.

It's time to get our heads in the game.

Who Doesn't Love The Snow?

I finally got back after my weekend nor'easter back home in NY, but it took me TEN HOURS to get here on the highway.  Ugh.  I love to drive, but between tolls, tourists, and traffic, I was ready for a cocktail midway through New Jersey.  Although it could have been have been the fact that I was in New Jersey that made me want a drink.  Who knows.

But anyway, I love the snow.  Correction - I love to play in the snow.  I love to walk in the woods in the snow, build snow forts, make snow angels, have snowball fights, and catch snowflakes on my tongue.  I do not enjoy shoveling snow, sliding in snow while trying to walk upright, or having snow put down the back of my shirt by someone related to me.

I do like me some frozen water though, and luckily while I was home I got PLENTY of it!

Well, I inadvertently brought back some of the snowy joy to Virginia with me.  I stopped by Sal's on Monday (once it finally stopped snowing and we could get out of the driveway again) to pick up Mom's sausage - every time someone goes home, we stock up on sausage from Sal's butcher shop in Rotterdam.  It's been there on Guilderland Avenue for years and years and years, and I think they're in the 4th generation of family running it.  I love small town American shopping! (This is also a small town butcher where everyone leaves their cars running in the parking lot in the winter while they buy meat, and they're all still out there when they're done, and WARM!) The boys at Sal's make all of their sausage and stuff by hand, and if you want ground chuck or hamburger, you pick out the roast, and they grind it for you.  GORGEOUS.

   

Well, I picked up 20 lbs of sausage, took it out to the car and put in the cooler...and realized I had forgotten to bring ice for the cooler.  DOH.  Luckily it had snowed 28 inches in three days, so I just gathered up some armfuls of snow from the parking lot and packed the cooler to the brim with Sal's parking lot snow.  Talk about a full service shop.

(As a side note, I then proceeded to run a few more errands and meet a friend for lunch...thereby forgetting all about the sausage in the car.  Another reason to love New York?  By the time I remembered that I had $80 worth of sausage in the backseat, it was 8 am the next morning - but when I went out to check it, it was 6 degrees below zero and not a single snowflake had melted.  Where else can you forget you have meat in the car for almost 18 hours and have it be frozen by the time you remember?  Suh-weet!)

Anyway, the snow lasted until I got home to Virginia, which was quite a feat after my ten hour commute down Interstate 95, during which I think I paid four times the value of my car in tolls.  Delaware was my favorite - there's a toll to get in, and then a toll to get out.  I wonder if they have a problem with population retention?

So here we are back in VA, the temps are in the high 40's, low 50's, and I've got a cooler full of snow...

What to do, what to do....

SNOWBALL FIGHT!!!!

Lou and Dora both LOVED the snow. 

Homer was VERY curious (shocker) and stuck his whole head in the cooler to smell what he could smell...

 ...and either he smelled the aura of Sal's sausage or he really likes the taste of parking lot, since he started to eat the snow.  He is the STRANGEST dog.

 

Strange though he may be, he's not the slightest bit stupid, and once the snow started flying the HoJo was OUTTIE.  He wanted absolutely nothing to do with it, and was taking no chances on getting pegged with flying snow.

 

Dora, on the other hand, rode the short bus out onto the back porch, and was ALL ABOUT snowballs.

Lou and Dora both had a blast with the snow, even though it only lasted about an hour.  Lou was throwing chunks of snow willy nilly and Dora was doing her best to catch them in mid-air...

...with somewhat limited success.

Bless her heart, though, she kept trying and trying...

 

...and she was pretty adamant about playing with the snow.  Lou was too, and so a slight competition developed to see who could commandeer the most snow...

...and I gotta tell you... when it comes down to pure cleverness and underhanded tactics...

...my dog is much more cunning than my 5 year old nephew. 

 

It's a bit sad really, although she is a clever, clever puppy.

We did eventually burn through all the snow, but before the last flake melted away, Lou and I decided to make a snowman - this may be the only snow he sees this year, since the temps for this coming weekend in Virginia are supposed to be in the 60's.  (SERIOUSLY - how can you doubt global warming when it's 60 degrees at the end of December??)

Step One:  Gather all remaining snowflakes into pile shaped mass.

 

Step Two: Awkwardly pat snow into somewhat round ball with Pillsbury dough boy gloves to make the base of the snowman.

Step Three: Repeat Step Two to make snowman look taller.

Step Four: Use dead plants on the deck to supply hair, eyes, nose, arms and "candy cane snack" for snowman.

Step Five:  Watch the snowman melt into the deck, and wave goodbye.  "Fare thee well, small snowperson. Fare thee well."

The Snowpocalypse Continues...

So it's still snowing.  Three days of snow.  I love it.  Even if the Four Horseman wanted to come knocking on the door, visibility is limited, and they'd probably get lost in the drifts. Whew!

We've had a great weekend being shut in. There's been food and booze and laughter and family and Uno and coffee and all kinds of good times.  Little Tom's wife Laurie and Danielle both came over, and we spent the afternoon making (and SAMPLING!) cookies.  Deee-licious. 

It's a lot of work, though, to bake and sample and sample and bake and measure and clean and sample... and Aunt Deb looked at the kitchen and Oh. Mah. Goodness.

 

Danielle was the first to succumb to the Cookie Coma, which is a phenomenon seen only during the holidays, but man, she gave it her all!

 

We didn't stay in the house ALL day - there was about an hour break in the snowfall, and we went out to the mailbox (yup - it's a journey) and cleaned off the cars.  I love being here - there's something about being amongst this group that makes even the mundane stuff fun.

We all got bundled up to go out and drop Aunt Deb's cards in the mail, and Bryan had to help Kelly on with her boots - it was the cutest thing I've ever seen.  Firstly, she had this ridiculous lumberjack hat on (which I got a great video of Bryan breakdancing in) and these white, fluffy, laced up boots with blue pom poms.  Fabulous.  My ever gallant cousin gave her a hand getting them on, but he was such a gentleman about it that you got that little melty "awwww" feeling just looking at the two of them. Did you ever see a couple that (even though they're young) you can totally picture them as a cute little old couple, holding hands in the park?  That's my cousin and his girlfriend.

So we all got bundled up...trekked out to the mailbox..

 

...and Presh had a blast running through the cleared places.  She can't go too far, since the snow is higher than her head, but she's pretty intrepid about venturing in the places that have been plowed through.

 

And honestly...the snow just makes you want to boogie.

We played a little Uno...

 

Ok, just kidding.  We played one game of Uno that lasted two hours and got almost riDONKulous.  I think at one point I had at least 40 cards in my hand. Disgraceful.

Bryan eventually won, and it was SUCH A RELIEF, but we had a great time anyway.  UNO!

Aunt Deb and I took a walk after dinner, and though my camera isn't too great at taking pictures at night, I did get a cool shot of Aunt Deb's rhododendrons...the snow came down in such a way that they look like cotton plants...check it out:

 

In any event, I think that THIS is what I miss most about winter up home.  The weather will often be the catalyst for spending time with those you love, and will accept no excuses about schedules or appointments or prior obligations.  The daily tasks that fill our schedules to the brim with mundanities hold no sway over Mother Nature, and there's really nothing you can do but accept it gracefully and make the best of it.  And it is the best.  You have a chance to reconnect with those you love, and at times, get a deeper understanding of those that you would otherwise not take the time to know.  So while the snow and ice and winter weather may seem to some an inconvenience, to me it's a gift.  I will remember these days the most when I am old, the times I spent in the company of those I love, looking out the window and marveling at the snow, arms wrapped around each other to ward off the cold.

Home Sweet Home...

Well, I'm finally home.  It's been a bit of a tumultuous week - I've rescheduled my trip home three times trying to accommodate potential clients (who ended up jerking my chain and not giving me anything worthwhile...) BUT NOW I'M HERE...let the drinking commence! MWAHAHAHAH

My mom was a bit worried about me coming up - I always take the back roads through PA, since it's about the same distance as coming up the 95 corridor, and a MUCH prettier drive.  (And given my aforementioned great love of animals, it gives me a chance to interact with the state animal of Pennsylvania, the sawhorse.)

 

Although I malign PA - this time it actually WAS NOT THAT BAD.  There was only ONE spot of construction, and it was only for TWO miles! I think it's because of the recession - they must have cut the road repair budget.  I LOVE IT! Yay! I have found the silver lining in the dark cloud of the economy!

I love driving though - any place, any time.  Sometimes in VA I get a bit frustrated - there seems to be a higher concentration of idiot drivers down there.  (I thought this was just me, until the town where I live and the town where I run fire BOTH made the top ten list of America's Worst Small Town Commutes! I also, over the last few years, have started taking pictures while I drive.  They never turn out as well as I think they should, but I continue trying to capture the great stuff I see through my windshield.  One of the reasons I love to drive home through PA is that the scenery coming through the mountains into Central NY (I'm from the Central Leatherstocking Region of NY, btw) is FABULOUS, and driving along 88E, elevated above the valleys, surrounded by rocks covered in ice and snow, is about as serene a 7 hour trip as you can get.  The sun breaks through the clouds and hits the mountain, and it's so gorgeous you want to pull over and bask, except that the shoulder of the road is about 5 inches wide and you'll get creamed by a big rig. 

Well, nothing's perfect.  This year (for the first time EVER) I got pulled over and got a ticket on my way home. DAMN IT.  I am always SUPER careful about speeding when I come through NY, since NY cops don't play around AT ALL.  (This may be why people in NY are such awesome, courteous drivers, compared to the rest of the US, but that's another discussion for another day.)  Anyway, driving behind the big rigs makes me nervous, since I've lost two windshields to things flying off trucks, and I'm on an elevated highway with nothing but air between me and the valley floor.  No jersey wall, no wires, no safety net, just air and gravity if I should happen to go off the road.  In summer, this doesn't bother me.  In winter, with black ice and snow and only my little Tangerina on the road amongst the giants, I will freely admit I get a bit skittery. So, I tell you all that to tell you this:  I'm behind a modular home on a truck (house on a truck = HUGE - wide load and all).  I cannot for the life of me see around him, and he's going below the speed limit in the right lane (can't blame him, since those things are heavy and he's going up a mountain)...PS - no one really drives in the left lane in NY - it's for PASSING.

So, I'm nervous about being behind him, he's going slow, and there's no one in the passing lane.  So I pull over, zip my little orange car around, and pull back in the right lane...just in time to see the state trooper on the side of the road. GOD BLESS AMERICA. Yup - I pulled over immediately, and here he came along...light's a-flashing'. Sheee-it.  He got me on radar as going 82 in a 65, passing.  NOT HAPPY. 

I will say though, I love NY cops - he was incredibly polite, incredibly courteous, and since he said he saw that I was trying to pass a truck, he didn't give me a speeding ticket - he DID give me a ticket, since I WAS technically speeding, (and he said my registration was expired - WTF?  I JUST renewed it! Another lovely call to make when I get home - I [do not] HEART the VA DMV.), but he gave me a ticket for not wearing a seat belt and for having an expired registration.  Yeah, it sucks to have to pay a fine, but no points on my license, and no increase in my insurance. Whee! Thanks, officer!

(PS - avoid this stretch of road. There's a trooper there, and even though he's really nice, he'll give you a ticket.)

The irony of the seat belt ticket does not escape me, btw.  I am the QUEEN of the seat belt.  You ride in my car, you better be belted. You're in the backseat?  Seatbelt.  Riding in the trunk?  Throw on a seat belt.  Riding on my roof?  I'll get you some bungee cords and we can rig you a seat belt.  How ignominious that I've now got a No Seat Belt ticket on my record.  Oh well.  I can't afford the ticket or the ramifications on another speeding ticket, so sometimes I guess you get what you need and not what you want.

(Just keep in mind, as I told my mother - the funniest part about this whole situation is that if I had been going as my normal bat-out-of-hell self, I would have already been *IN* Rotterdam by the time the officer showed up to work that morning, thereby avoiding any ticket at all!  See what happens when I try to behave?  I try to be nice and drive a friend home, it costs me $300 when I pop a tire outside her house.  I try to behave and drive sedately so my mother doesn't worry - I get TWO tickets on the highway in NY.  PHOOEY.)

But anyway, notwithstanding police officer interventions, the threat of bad weather, and having to pay to pee in PA (Yes, you have to pay for the restrooms in Pennsylvania - No joke. They've got to fund their endless road construction SOMEHOW! See for yourself:)

 

I finally made it home. My aunt is fabulous and graciously allowing me to stay at her house, as always.

So here I am, large and in charge. Since I went out with my cousin Bryan and his girlfriend Kelly last night to Mahar's in Albany and ate almost a half a pound of bacon and horseradish cheddar cheese, I am  definitely larger than I was when I got here, but man, it was DELICIOUS.

Given that I was with my favorite cousin:

 

...and we're not exactly known for being humorless, or failing to egg each other on into mischief, I don't suppose it's too much of a surprise what was left of the cheese took on a life of it's own. 

 

Ah...cheese. So delicious, so perfect...so perfectly susceptible to corruption.

 

There's also a GREAT video of the cheese (after downing a few) beginning to bitterly complain about speeding tickets and TPS reports...I'll upload that to YouTube soon and we can all enjoy.

I didn't get a chance to record the two friends of Bryan's who joined us or the creepy guy at the end of the table who kept hitting on Kelly and conducting a financial planing meeting with his friend, so you'll have to use your imagination...I'm sure you're up to it.

So, all in all, it was a GREAT night.  (It must have been, since I slept RIGHT THROUGH my intentions of getting up to watch the sunrise this morning!) Tonight's going to be just as fun, I think, if everyone can make it out here - it's been snowing for about an hour and the roads are already bad, but the fam is all supposed to gather here for dinner and possibly some highly competitive games of pinochle.  It could be dangerous. Prepare yourself.

(But I LOVE THAT IT'S SNOWING!!!! I miss the snow down in VA - but I sure don't miss shoveling!  We're supposed to get a minimum of 14 inches, and it'll be a white Christmas this year for SURE!)

 

I miss my pups, but my aunt's pooch Precious is here, and she's a lover.  She's super little (compared to my beasties), she's got a nub of a tail that wags a million times a minute, she barks ferociously at bears (from behind the glass, natch) and she LOVES sausage and cheese.  (Who doesn't?)

The dog is here, the family is coming, and the snow is coming down to beat the band.  So we're going to hunker down, open some wine, light the fire and fire up the hot tub, and enjoy the company of family and friends over some cutthroat card games and munchies.  Who can ask for more?

Life on my own...

When I left my old firm eight months ago, I did not anticipate nearly as many problems as I have had in going out on my own.  I didn't anticipate the economy taking a nose dive into the abyss.  (I certainly didn't anticipate a journalist being able to throw not one, but TWO shoes at the President and not be immediately taken out.)

But mostly what I did not anticipate was what I call the "Ostrich Client Phenomenon."  Consultants get paid to give a client information.  We get paid to give a client correct, thoroughly researched information, or we don't get paid.  So, I definitely did not anticipate clients hiring me to find something out for them, and then having them bury, disregard, or flat out deny the information I provide.  How does this make ANY sense at all?

Funnily enough, today's Pearls Before Swine encapsulated just how I feel when talking to these types of clients....

...and this just says it all: