Landslide

I've been listening to Fleetwood Mac in the car on the way to and from work this week. One song in particular really strikes a chord with me lately. It's Landslide, written and performed by Stevie Nicks. Here are the words:

Landslide
Written by S. Nicks

I took my love, I took it down
I climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills
'Til the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky
What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm getting older, too

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm getting older, too
Oh, I'm getting older, too

Oh, take my love, take it down
Oh, climb a mountain and turn around
And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills
Well, the landslide will bring it down

And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills...
Well, the landslide will bring it down
Oh, the landslide'll bring it down

For anyone who is not familiar with this song, Stevie Nicks sings is slowly, deeply, wistfully...all in that amazing voice of hers. I'm not sure why this song resonates within me right now. Might bear some exploring.

A friend who used to correspond with me wrote out the following lyrics in one of his letters as a description of the way he saw love. We were high-school aged at the time, and he was not the type of guy (football player, cuter than anything, with a sexy, hoarse voice) you'd expect to think so deeply about relationships. Maybe women start off on the wrong foot at a young age, seeing men as one-dimensional when it comes to love. If we bought into the battle-of-the-sexes humor about men, we could see them as incapable of love. I guess my friend showed me at a young age just how wrong that would be. I have to remind myself of the lesson from time to time. Anyway, here are the lyrics in question:

You're My Home
by Billy Joel

When you look into my eyes
And you see the crazy gypsy in my soul
It always comes as a surprise
When I feel my withered roots begin to grow

Well, I never had a place that I could call my very own
But that's alright my love,
'Cause your my home

When you touch my weary head
And you tell me ev'rything will be alright
You say use my body for your bed
And my love will keep you warm throughout the night

Well, I'll never be a stranger
And I'll never be alone
Where ever we're together that's my home

Home can be the Pennsylvania Turnpike
Indiana's early morning dew
High up in the hills of California
Home is just another word for you

If I travel all my life
And I never get to stop and settle down
Long as I have you by my side
There's a roof above and good walls all around
You're my castle, you're my cabin and my instant pleasure dome
I need you in my house 'cause you're my home

Why quote these two songs in the same post? I like the juxtaposition of Stevie's song about change against Billy's song about constancy. I can't decide if Stevie's song is about change within the context of her love or change at the cost of her love. Is the landslide taking down her childish self or taking down the love?

So what do you think? Is change the only constant, or can love be constant as well?

Not To Be Missed

If you read just one more post at one more blog today, make it One Minute to Midnight over at Joe T.'s Freudian Slips. It's powerfully written and it's well-edited. I admire the craftsmanship as much as I appreciate the content.

Another Day

I remember someone saying once that a friend is someone who gently leads you back to a sense of yourself. I don't remember who said it, but the words have stuck with me for many years. I just googled the quote, but I didn't get any hits. I did find another beautiful quote of a similar nature at thinkexist.com:

“A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.”

I was about to say that I can't remember how long it's been since I had that kind of a friend, but, actually, I do remember. It's been 17 years, almost to the day. I had a very good friend whom I met at camp over the summer between 8th grade and high school. We were born less than a week apart, so we jokingly called each other, "Twin." She lived a couple of hours away, so we didn't get to see too much of each other during the school year. We loved to write long, girly letters back and forth. I never looked forward to getting mail so much in my life!

We applied to the same college. We were both accepted, but it was out of my league without more financial aid than they offered me, so I went elsewhere. We kept in touch, and we ended up working together back at camp (a one-week conference held each summer, not the camp I've mentioned in other posts).

She married shortly after graduation. I used to visit her for the weekend now and then, and she tried to fix me up with one of her friends. He was a nice guy, and we dated for awhile. He was heartbroken over a previous relationship, so it didn't work out. I met my husband, she disapproved, and we haven't spoken since. Just like that. One phone call, ending in a long silence, before hanging up and never speaking again.

Thing is, she was the one friend I've had who really knew me. Her song was pretty similar to mine, so I guess it was easy for us to keep each other in tune.

I was incredibly shy when I was younger, and sometimes it kept me from seeing that I had any value to my friends. That's not good. You have to know your importance to others in order to step up to the plate when they need a friend. You have to recognize that they need you. I should have told my Twin that I wouldn't accept the silence between us, and that she had to be at my wedding because we needed each other. We both would have grown through it.

It's hard to find that kind of friendship now - it's too late. Most people my age already have those friends, established long ago when baggy clothes and big hair were in style. No one I know now could tell you the first thing about who I was in 1987. Or 77 or 67. Well, my Mom could, but she's starting to get some of that stuff wrong. Even my sister and brother couldn't offer much insight.

So why does it matter so much to me today? I guess it's just that today was the kind of day when I could have used a very old, very dear friend to make me snap out of it. Don't know if it's just the blues (I honestly don't get them too often), or a new wrinkle on my mighty-fine mid-life crisis, or hormones with a capital H. Today I feel truly insignificant and unaccomplished, and, more than anything, foolish. I feel like a royal PITA. I tried to just shut up at work and not bother anyone.

Ironically, I found myself supremely annoyed by some of the people around me (if you're reading this, it wasn't you). I couldn't seem to get away from major annoyances. Maybe it was just projection (the attribution of one's own attitudes, feelings, or suppositions to others, per answers.com). In any event, I usually have better coping skills than I did today. I wanted to leave work, come home, hide under a blanket, have a good cry and sleep until tomorrow. I had a meeting this afternoon, so I couldn't do it.

I guess I just have a sense of loss today. Friendship lost, time lost, talent lost. Self lost - can't find the tune. Yeah, OK, a mid-life crisis. The Blues. Hormones with a capital H. Tomorrow will be better; I'll probably reread this and think, "How maudlin!" and unpost it. After all, tomorrow is another day...

Red Flower

I took a quiz over at blogthings.com to see what color flower I am. Here is the final result (oh my stars!):

You Are a Red Flower

A red flower tends to represent power, seduction, and desire. At times, you are loving like a red tulip. And at other times, you're very enthusiastic, like a bouvardia. And more than you wish, your passion is a bit overwhelming, like a red rose.

What Color Flower Are You?

Summer Entertaining

We had a wonderful time at Pax's soiree last night, and we're planning a little do of our own for next weekend. It'll be a casual affair, with cocktails and good food. We'll be inside and outside, whatever the moment brings (not to mention the weather). I've planned the gathering to start in the late afternoon/early evening, because there will be plenty of shade on the back deck by then. We're not going to barbecue because we really like the people we've invited, and we want to spend time with them! I plan to have all of the food prepared before the guests arrive, so that we may enjoy the party too.

I've been shopping and preparing, and, true to my sorry nature, I'm beginning to panic just a little. Help me out, if you don't mind! What are the essential ingredients to a good party, in your opinion? Do you have any suggestions for easy entertaining and food preparation? Any secret recipes that drive your guests wild? Is there anything that I must not forget to do/serve/provide/prepare?

Any and all suggestions will be greatly appreciated. If you're in the neighborhood, stop on by!

Toad Patrol Missing In Action

We have a Toad Patrol in our back yard, always on duty to keep the perimeter free from insects who might cross the border between the woods and our home. On any given summer evening, one may find these finely honed agents of insect destruction spread around the foundation of the house like beads on a necklace.

Cutbacks in the Toad Armory Budget (TAB) have limited their protective capacity to the insects who arrive by foot, so insects equipped for flight often manage the crossing. Still, lets face it, it is the creepy-crawlies (nods to Joe T.) that concern us most, and the Toads are highly skilled and effective in the management of these creatures.

Tonight, for some reason, my Toad Patrol is missing in action. No insects were seen sneaking across the unreinforced line, but the potential for a break would appear to be at critical mass. I have grave concerns about the whereabouts of my patrol, and I can't help speculating as to the cause of their absence. Is tonight the annual Toad Ball? Has electronic surveillance been incorporated into the Toad Patrol arsenal, leading to cutbacks in personnel? Is there a froggy flu outbreak keeping each Toad to his hole this evening? Were all Toad Guards called to the aid of a fellow officer in the front yard tonight? I suppose the possibilities are endless, and I may never know the answer to my query.

I saw cloud to ground lightening directly in front of me several times this evening, as I drove home through the Great Cedar Swamp. I've heard that a car is the safest place to be in an electrical storm, but I'm skeptical. I would much prefer to be safe at home, watching nature's glory unfold through my back doors.

I know that lightening can reach you just about anywhere, even in your home. I've seen it happen. I've seen lightening enter a house through a wall, go down a staircase, make a left turn, and knock a clock from another wall before exiting through it. It neatly bypassed each of my parents and then me. I was downstairs, in a perfect position to see it hang a Louie and dislodge the clock. Mom was upstairs in the kitchen, to one side of the lightening bolt, and my father was just to the other side of it, on his way up the other staircase of our split level home. Ironically, we had just returned from church.

I know people who would nod sagely and say that we were protected by angels because we had been faithful in attending church. I know others who would point to the randomness of such events. Although I believe in God, I would probably side with those who saw random natural activity in the incident. The undeniable truth is that our physical beings are anchored to this physical world. Good things happen to bad people, bad things to good people, and vice versa. Believers die, have car wrecks, get sick, win the lottery, get promoted, and so do non-believers. My parents and I were fortunate to avoid any ill effects from the lightening, but that can hardly be seen as proof of divine intervention.

I do believe that most of us are born with an inherent desire to understand the incomprehensible, to know God. We each have a God-shaped hole in our hearts, a longing to experience ultimate power and ultimate love. That doesn't mean that everyone who feels this will reach the conclusion of God, but I think we have a spiritual nature that craves nurturing along with the physical one.

Tonight, just moments ago, I stood in my backyard. The earth and the very trees that sprout from it are drenched in moisture, and the air is heavy enough to cast a misty shadow under the electric lights. I felt both warm and cool at once, as the gentler evening temperatures competed with the wet, cloying air. Even with the evening temperature drop, it is imperative that the air conditioning be kept running tonight, since this much humidity would be intolerable indoors.

The evening is scented with the aromatic odor of pine sap, closer in smell to turpentine than the fresh pine needle scent we look for in our Christmas trees. I wonder if this is simply a fragrant manifestation of so many turgid, waterlogged layers of wood, or if one of those bolts of lightening earlier tonight connected with a tree, setting free years - perhaps decades - of accumulated resin.

I seem to be constantly re-thinking the things I believe about life and love and God these days. I find that I experience my greatest sense of awe (is that awareness of God?) in natural settings, like my backyard.

I suppose the way I see the desire to know, and to be known by, an omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent being is best summed up by Psalm 139. This poem is attributed to King David. I don't think you have to share his belief in the God of Israel to understand the longing he has to be known and to be loved. We all find different ways of expressing and fulfilling this need. Here is an excerpt:

7 Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?

8 If I ascend to heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there.

9 If I take the wings of the dawn,
If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,

10 Even there Your hand will lead me,
And Your right hand will lay hold of me.

11 If I say, "Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,
And the light around me will be night,"

12 Even the darkness is not dark to You,
And the night is as bright as the day
Darkness and light are alike to You.

13 For You formed my inward parts;
You wove me in my mother's womb.

14 I will give thanks to You,
for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.

15 My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth;

16 Your eyes have seen my unformed substance;
And in Your book were all written
The days that were ordained for me,
When as yet there was not one of them.

Random Thoughts

I'm reading a book called Lamb by Christopher Moore. The book is about the missing years of Jesus' (who is named Joshua in the book) life, as told by his friend and travelling companion, Biff. In one chapter, Joshua and Biff encounter a Yeti, along with a group of Buddhist monks. Biff asks Gaspar (one of the wisemen who visited Jesus after his birth, and now the head monk of the monastery) where the Yeti lives. Gaspar replies, "We don't know. A cave somewhere, I suppose."

This made me wonder if the Yeti might not have his own blog called, "A Cave Somewhere." What do you think it would look like? Something like this, perhaps? Just curious....

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Quick trivia question: Which nationally celebrated one-year-old is nicknamed, "Butterstick?"

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I returned to work today, after a weeklong shutdown of state services. It was a busy day, but it could have been worse. My voice mail was full, with 12 aggravated messages, all from 2 people. Yep, one person left one message, and another person left eleven messages over the course of the week before she figured out that the office was closed.

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I've decided to do some comparative shopping research. I'm looking for the best Cosmopolitan cocktail in South Jersey. I checked out a couple of contenders over the weekend, and the search continues. This could be a life project, since one may only consume so many Cosmos at any one time, and I just don't imbibe all that often.

All suggestions regarding venues will be appreciated. List your favorite Southern NJ bar, lounge, taproom, restaurant or club, and I'll consider a visit (time, gas prices and willing companions permitting, since I won't go out for drinks alone, and it goes without saying that I won't drink and drive).

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I've had more trouble with this post than you can imagine. My browser crashed before I saved it the first time around, and I had to reconstruct the entire thing. I can't seem to keep the formatting the way I want it, and I'm having a lot of trouble with the "Edit Html" feature. Sorry if the appearance of this post is poor.

Sassenach Part II

If I went back in time, I'd probably choose 1700's England, Scotland, Ireland or the American colonies, if I had my druthers. The family I had in the colonies/US at the time was in Pennsylvania, and I must admit that I would love a chance to look in on them. I also had ancestors in the Edinburgh area of Scotland, as well as in England, (possibly in the Manchester area, and also in London). My Irish kin may have hailed from the Dublin area, but I'm not too clear on that score. There apparently was a family crest associated with one branch of my British ancestors. Most of my direct forebears were simple, hardworking folk. I'd love a glimpse into their day to day lives, and I'd love to see whether or not I look like any of them.

I don't have much desire to visit my Ukrainian kin on their home turf. I suspect that it would be painful to see, with social divides beyond modern American comprehension and brutal revolutions rampant throughout the region. I don't have much information at all about the history of that half of my family, and I'd love to know more, but I don't think it would be easy to visit.

There are some intriguing questions I'd love to have answered about my Ukrainian ancestors. We sort of suspect that there might have been a touch (or more) of Mongol blood introduced somewhere along the way. Imagine: I might be a distant descendant of Genghis Khan! I'd really like to know more.

One prolific Ukrainian ancestor was rumored to have been responsible for most of the population of a small Hungarian town. If that's the case, I might have a lot of Eastern European cousins to look up someday!

Of course, I'd love to watch some larger historical events unfold, too. The American Revolution, the French Revolution (though I really wouldn't want to be actively present for this one, since it was exceptionally brutal) and the reign of Queen Elizabeth I (again, I shudder at the thought of actually being present; I'd just like to see it) are especially interesting to me.

I guess you could call me the timid time traveler, with my fly-on-the-wall technique. I wish I could believe in the past life regression thing, it might be interesting. If I've had past lives, I wonder where and when they occurred? Hmmm, sounds like a topic for another post someday!

Sassenach

I've mentioned one of my favorite novels a few times in recent posts. It's a book called Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon. It's the first book in a series about the same characters. The book begins in post WWII Britain. Claire Randall is visiting Scotland with her husband, following a long separation due to the war. She visits some standing stones (Stonehenge is an example) and is mystically pulled back through time to the year 1743.

In the book, the word "outlander" has something of a double meaning. Claire is British, and is seen as an outlander, or Sassenach, by the scots. To be a Sassenach alone amongst the Scots in 1743 is a dangerous thing, since the Scots were fomenting rebellion against oppressive British rule at the time. The bigger sense of the word "outlander" is Claire's anachronistic presence in 18th century Scotland. She is out of time and place, quite literally.

When I was a little girl, I read a lot of fiction set against historical backdrops. I was an imaginitive child, and I felt I didn't belong in modern times. I longed to go back in time and live in an era when I could wear gowns every day, ride horses for transportation and dine by candlelight. A post by Random Kath over at Ordinary Snapshots reminded me of the days when I felt this way.

Of course, I recognize all of the flaws in my childish reasoning. It is not likely that I would have been part of an economically advantaged class (although one can dream). It's much more likely that I would have had one long dress to call my own, day by dirty, smoky-fired, air conditioning-free day, and without the benefit of a washing machine. I would have been more likely to walk around avoiding the piles of muck left by the horses than to have actually owned or ridden one.

It is doubtful that I would have had much education at all, and who knows whether or not I would even have learned to read. There were common beliefs and practices in past centuries that I would find repugnant, and don't even get me started on public health issues! Most of all, the disadvantages of being a woman at almost any time in the past are enormous. Look how much the status of women has changed, just in my lifetime! Why would I want to go back?

Having said all of that, there is still the kernel of longing within me to visit the past and spy on my ancestors. I suppose I would prefer to visit as a fly on the wall, so to speak, rather than as an active participant. To participate actively, if I took my modern self and way of thinking along, could get me into a lot of trouble. I'm too vocal and my opinions are too modern. I'm too accustomed to living with my US American freedoms.

If you could go back in time, would you wish to actively participate in the culture and events of the era, or would you prefer to just observe? Which era would you choose, and why? There is a "Part II" to this post, saved for tomorrow, since this was getting to be a bit long. I'll answer these questions in reference to myself in tomorrow's post.

Uncommon Scents

I just received another bottle of Eau Fresh cologne in the mail, bought on ebay. I'm well stocked for the foreseeable future, though I'll continue to check in every now and then to be sure I don't run out.

I don't know what's come over me, but I find I am beguiled by fragrance these days. I never cared much in the past whether or not a man wore cologne. Now I find the right scent to be appealing, even distracting. When I wear one of the very few scents that isn't too strong for me, I find myself stopping at frequent intervals to check the fragrance as it changes throughout the day.

I have a hair product that has the most wonderful fresh lemon scent to it. If I could find a cologne that smelled like that, I'd buy it in a heartbeat. I remember wearing Love's Fresh Lemon when I was young. It's still on the market, so maybe I'll try it again.

I have a small bottle of Tea Rose perfume. I love it, but it can be tough to wear because it tends to be strong, and a lot of people are allergic to it. Still, I will wear it now and then.

Last night I put on a touch of L'Air du Temps. I was surprised to find that there was still cologne in the bottle. I had kept it these many years because it was a refillable spray bottle, and I have always intended to buy a refill. I spritzed some on just for fun. I still like it, though it's on the sweet side.

Last week I had a conversation with a male friend about the advantages of being male versus those of being female. He said he thought it was probably hard to be woman, that he wouldn't want to go through all of the hormonal ups and downs we go through. I told him my mother has always said she wants to come back as a man in the next life because men have it made. He wondered if I thought most women feel that way. I said I could see Mom's point, but I like being a girl.

There are things I don't like about being female, of course. A woman has to be more careful about going places alone than a man does, and women of my generation don't get as much of a pass as younger women when it comes to watching our "reputations." Women my age still watch each other closely for signs of looseness, from the cut of a neckline to the color of nail polish. And, yeah, there's the whole hormone thing, but that has its upside, as well ;).

Younger women were freed from many of my generation's unwritten rules, for good or for ill, by the child-tart fashions and behavior of the Britney Spears era. They wear tight-fitting, low cut clothes for business and for pleasure, regardless of their body type, and they just don't seem to be uncomfortable. I know that the anorexic starlet images persist, but doesn't it seem that most young women today are not as affected by them? Am I mistaken?

In any event, I think the whole preoccupation I have with fragrance these days is just another facet of being a girl and loving it. Are men as bewitched by fragrace as I seem to be lately? Maybe it's a human thing, not just a girl thing. Perhaps it's even more basic than that; perhaps it's an animal thing.

Tidying Up

I managed to get rid of the blogshift problem I was having, but there are still a few untidy bits here and there about the Room. Please excuse the housekeeping for a few days while I figure this out. My abilities give new meaning to the "hack" in the word hacker. I have zero experience with templates, html and that sort of thing.

I went to school in the dark ages, before people had PCs. I used a computer with CRT (Cathode Ray Tube, for the unitiated) screen a few times for a few class projects in Stats and in Psych Testing. That was it. How many of you are old enough to remember the DOS carat prompt and memorizing commands, in the days before the advent of the mouse and point and click technology? How about dot matrix printers with spooled paper? Or am I the only one?

Blogshift

Sorry for the unattractive shifting of my most recent post to below the level of the left column text. This happened because of the large photo I inserted into the post. Blogger won't let me upload photos right now (???). I had inset it from another site, so I can't change the image size. Still, I think it's worthwhile to leave it there! This is a temporary setback, at best.

Shifting Gears

Too much of my blog time has been given over to New Jersey's fiscal woes over the last few days. Time for a change of pace!

I like features in magazines that ask people what they're reading, watching or listening to. Here's my list:

Reading:

I'm currently reading Lamb, by Christopher Moore (on loan from a friend :))

I just bought Everything She Thought She Wanted by Elizabeth Buchan (author of Revenge of the Middle Aged Woman and The Good Wife Strikes Back)

I'm dabbling in CS Lewis right now, rereading some of his poems, and also some essays from a collection called God in the Dock. I've ordered a new copy of The Screwtape Letters from Amazon. Of course, I found my old copy the day after the order shipped. Oh well, the old one is starting to fall apart.

I also ordered a new copy of Outlander. Sorry you didn't like it, Virginia Gal! I plan to read it again as soon as it arrives. I'm looking forward to spending many pleasant hours with Jamie Fraser. ;)

Listening To:

In my car CD Changer right now are the following CD's:

1)The Best of Donna Summer/The Millenium Collection

2)Softly With These Songs/The Best of Roberta Flack

3)James Taylor/Greatest Hits

4)The Best of Three Dog Night

5)Fleetwood Mac/The Dance

6)Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? (soundtrack)

I might actually get to listen to these CD's if we go back to work anytime soon! Oops, topic digression. Get back on track!

My Amazon order will also include a CD of The Cars Greatest Hits.

Watching:

Hmmm. I didn't get to the movies yesterday, since I was not home alone as originally planned (before the shutdown), nor did I watch 6 hours of Pride and Prejudice, the alternate plan for my day to myself. I haven't been watching much of anything, truth be told.

I saw a bit of a History Channel program in the middle of the night last night. It was called Digging for the Truth, Giants of Patagonia. I think Digging for the Truth is a series. It was interesting, but it wouldn't have held my attention at that hour of the morning if it weren't for the host, Josh Bernstein. Worth watching, that's all I have to say! Here's why:

photo credit

That's him on the left. I'm sorry Pax, Zelda, but move over Antonio! Here's another peek:

photo credit

What are you reading/listening to/watching these days?

Update

My friend Pax provided this link to a site quoting a statement by Governor Corzine that all NJ state workers will get make-up pay for the days we are unable to work because of the shutdown. This is news to me because we were all given a statement that we would not be paid in the event of a shutdown. We had to sign a sheet showing that we had received the statement and were aware that we would not be paid.

Paying state workers is important for more reasons than the obvious (feeding families, keeping mortgages afloat, etc.). Taking several days pay out of the pockets of that many New Jerseyans will affect many other businesses. Day two of not being paid already has me ratcheting back on spending, and I'm sure it's had that effect in many households.

So the point of the shutdown would be what? I guess the point is the cessation of actual services to the public because services are not funded without an approved budget. If I had gone to work, I would be handling requests for services. Services may not be provided right now because there is no budget to do so.

The state is already losing money on the lottery (which has been stopped until the budget crisis is resolved), and will begin losing megabucks tomorrow if the casinos are closed for business. This is just plain stupid in a year with a budget crunch.

Many New Jerseyans have a disdain for state employees that approaches hatred. Unfortunately, this is due in large part to the fact that our elected representatives malign us to the public for political gains, stabbing us in the back like Brutus stabbed Caesar.

This shutdown of services will likely fan the flames of the public's dislike and distrust of us, especially if we end up being paid in the end. The public should know this: we were expressly told that we MAY NOT report for work during the shutdown if we have been classified as non-essential. We would be sent home by management if we showed up.

I am both a New Jerseyan and a state employee. I want to show up for work, and I want New Jersey to succeed.

And I vote.

NJ Shutdown, Day 2

I have finally reached the point in my life where I like my job and I actually look forward to going to work. This has been my dream for many years, and I am thankful for the work I do, the people I serve, my coworkers and my boss. Now I am being told that I may not report to work. Oh, the irony. Last year at this time I would have welcomed leave in any form, even unpaid.

The State of NJ continues with a shutdown of services today because our elected representatives at the state level have failed miserably to approve a balanced budget. Each seems more concerned with his own political future (how will this affect my reelection bid?) than they are about the welfare of The Great State of New Jersey. To me, this is strong evidence of a need for term limits. I'm ready to say one term and you're out, so that politicians may base decisions on the real issues, not their personal aspirations. Elections could be staggered throughout the state so that there would always be experienced representatives in office to pass on knowledge.

In my opinion, years of experience equals years of entrenchment in a corrupt political system, and NJ is renowned for political corruption. Frankly, state government isn't rocket science, and experience in New Jersey appears to be a detriment rather than an asset. The hue and cry for upcoming elections should be get rid of incumbents.

Both incomes in our household are affected by this snafu, since we are both state employees. Today is a forced, unpaid day off, and it looks like tomorrow will not be a paid holiday. From what I've read at cnn.com about the situation, it does not seem likely that we will work on Wednesday, either. Our household is prepared for a rainy day, so we'll get through this, if it doesn't last too long. I know state employee households with only one income, and they will be affected even more deeply by this mess.

Some NJ legislators want to cut state worker benefits and salaries by 15%. Think about that: 15% less pay, plus an additional 15% contribution to our benefits. While this is probably the extreme version of what will actually be brought to the table during contract negotiations next year, it highlights the need for state workers to be proactive with their personal finances. That's hard to do when the state forces unpaid leave on us, making us dip into our savings and assets.

According to the CNN article, the state Assembly didn't even bother to convene today, thought the Senate did. Here is a quote from the article:

"I would welcome the Assembly actually coming in, staying in Trenton, working on the budget, hour after hour, 24 hours a day until we come up with a budget," Corzine said Monday morning on CNN. "I can't veto a budget, I can't sign a budget until it's actually presented by the Legislature."

No budget bills had moved through legislative committees yet, and any legislation those panels approve must wait a full calendar day before receiving final votes in the Assembly and Senate. If no bills move forward Monday, the Legislature couldn't adopt a budget before Wednesday morning.

Sounds to me like the assembly members want this problem to reach critical mass. Wonder if they expect to be paid for their service? Let's fire the lot of them, first chance we get.

ADDENDUM:

I just read an executive order by Governor Corzine posted on the State of NJ website. He has ordered both houses of the legislature into sessions beginning 7/4/06 at 9:00 am and for each day until a budget is passed. Here's the text:

Governor Signs Executive OrderCalling For A Special Legislative Session

TRENTON - Governor Jon S. Corzine today signed an Executive Order calling for Special Sessions of both Houses of the Legislature beginning on Tuesday, July 4, 2006, at 9:00 a.m. and continuing for each day thereafter until a General Appropriations Law for Fiscal Year 2007 is enacted. The Governor faxed a letter to each Senator and Assembly Member containing the following text:

Pursuant to my authority under the New Jersey Constitution, Article V, Section I, Paragraph 12 and Article IV, Section I, Paragraph 4, I am hereby convening Special Sessions of both Houses of the Legislature for Tuesday, July 4, 2006 at 9:00 a.m., and for each day thereafter, until such time as this call shall be revoked, in order to pass a balanced General Appropriations Law for Fiscal Year 2007 and to consider legislation that is related to the State budget. I have determined that the public interest requires these Sessions in order to expedite the enactment of a General Appropriations Law for Fiscal Year 2007 and thereby end the current state of emergency caused by the failure to enact such a law by July 1, 2006.

In a State

We're in quite a state here in New Jersey, pun intended. Our government failed to pass a balanced budget by the end-of-the-fiscal-year deadline, which struck at midnight. This means that only essential functions of government may continue to operate.

We all received a flurry of memos yesterday. The first memo instructed us to check with our supervisors about our status, essential vs. non-essential. I dutifully went to my boss with the memo in hand to ask about my standing. He gave me a "you're-being-a-pain-in-the..." well, we'll say neck here, just to keep it polite: he gave me a "you're-being-a-pain-in-the-neck" look, then informed me that I am non-essential. Oh the misery. I am not needed. I am insignificant.

Seriously, though, I really was being a pain in the whatever. After 18 years in the same title, I am well aware of my status. I was being obediently cheeky in following the instructions in the memo.

Later in the day, an official memo was provided to each of us informing us of our status. It once again confimed my relative unimportance as a cog in the wheel of state government. Indeed, we were told that any non-essential staff who showed up for work in the event of a government shutdown would be sent home. All around me people were bemoaning the lack of appreciation for their service.

OK, truth be told, most of us do not want to be essential. While we would prefer not to have significant amounts of time off without pay, nobody is excited over the prospect of handling all of the emergencies that arise during a government shutdown.

So how does this affect me? Well, I will be off on Monday no matter what, since I have an approved vacation day (thanks to my very kind boss, in spite of my cheek). The question is whether or not I will be paid for the day. If there is a shutdown, I will not be paid.

If the shutdown is averted, I will be home alone on Monday. My first plan is to watch all 6 glorious hours of Pride &Prejudice (the Colin Firth version, of course). My backup plan (depending on mood) is to go to the movies to see either A Prairie Home Companion or The Devil Wears Prada. (My friend Pax reviewed A Prairie Home Companion here.) I've never been to the movies alone (except the campus movie in college, but that doesn't count), and I'm not sure whether or not I'll have the courage to do so. Am I being silly?

If there is a shutdown, then I will NOT be home alone, since we are both government employees in this household. In that case, all bets are off, especially bets that involve spending any money. We'll both be losing a day's pay for each day the State of NJ is closed for business. Ouch. We'll survive a little of that, but too much of it will be very, very painful.

So Trenton (the NJ capitol city and the seat of government) is in a mess. It's in a literal mess due to serious flooding this week, which, ironically, closed many state offices in the city. It's in a figurative mess because of political posturing, grandstanding, and a mess left by past governors and legislators of both parties. To wit:

-Christie Whitman (R) plundered state employee pensions and single-handedly wrecked NJ's A+ credit rating before she abandoned her post to run the EPA for W. She appointed:

-Don DeFrancesco (R) as Acting Governor before turning tail. Mr. DeFrancesco, an unelected governor, spent money like water, putting us further into the hole.

-Jim McGreevey (D) came next. Big budget challenges awaited Mr. McGreevey, especially in the wake of the September 11th attacks, since NJ is so close to NYC and Newark International Airport played such a significant role in the attacks. Mr. McGreevey also abandoned his post late in his first (and only) term, ostensibly because he had become involved in an affair with a male staff member, but it is thought that there might have been deeper issues and scandals. Mr. McGreevey left, appointing:

-Richard Codey (D) as the acting governor. Once again New Jerseyans were left with an unelected acting governor, and once again spending went a bit over the top. And now we have:

-Jon Cozine (D), elected governor, who seems to be doing his best to fix things, without much help from all of the other elected reps here in the Garden State.

This is, of course, my highly biased view of things (hey, it's my blog, I get to be biased). Even if you disagree with my position on the issues, you can see that NJ's government has been hacked to pieces over the last several administrations. Is it any wonder we're in such a state here in NJ?

Those Summer Nights

Summertime brings back so many memories to me, starting with summer evenings spent chasing fireflies in my jammies with Jeffy from across the street. We ran around the yard playing tag and keeping an ear cocked for the Mister Softee truck.

I grew up on a large corner lot in a housing development in the suburbs. The local parades went right past our house. We'd sit out front on patriotic holidays and watch the parade, then retire to the backyard for a barbecue. Barbecues were the only time Dad ever cooked. Mom did all of the prep, of course, but Dad would handle the grill. Except when he forgot. OK, lets just say that Mom did ALL of the cooking!

The kitchen was on the second floor of our split-level home. The house was built with a front door and a side door, but no back door (Dad added one later, with stairs leading up to the second level). To avoid taking all of the food down the stairs then out the door and around to the back of the house, Mom used to hand stuff out to us through the kitchen window. The snow drifts would pile up under this window every winter, engendering stern admonishments for me to stay out of the drifts or I'd die in them, or something like that.

On the fourth of July we'd sit in the backyard at sunset. You could see the local fireworks from there. If the mosquitoes were bad (hey, this is New Jersey, mosquitoes are the state bird here) we'd watch from the picture window upstairs. It never occurred to me that not everyone had this luxury. It's tantalyzing to me now when I hear the distant explosions at 9pm on the 4th but can't see anything from my deck.

I spent many summers working at camp. I remember the first time I had to take a group of campers (I worked with the youngest ones, about 7 years old) on a cookout. Cookouts at camp were the real deal. You had to gather the firewood and build a fire from scratch (we did use matches, however). The first time was pretty comical. I think it took me something like an hour just to get the fire started. I was covered in soot and dirt from head to toe from kneeling on the ground and blowing on the "fire" to get it going. Literally covered in soot. Face and all. I don't quite remember the meal, but I suspect that it might not have been the best of fare. My poor campers were moaning, complaining of hunger and fatigue. I think my unit director finally stopped by to help me get it together.

I improved on my outdoor cooking skills after that. I haven't built a cooking fire for several years, but I'll bet I still could! I have to say that the food was truly marvelous when cooked over an open wood fire. My favorite cookout meal was camp stew. Camp stew was made by browning bacon, then setting it aside, then browning chopped onions and beef. The bacon was added back in, and spaghetti sauce (any plain Jane generic canned sauce would do), canned potatoes (those little round ones) and canned carrots were added. Once that was all heated through, chunks of cheddar cheese were added for the coup de grace. The finished product was the most wonderful meal imaginable. It was served with doughboys (bisquick mixed with water and wrapped around a stick, then cooked over the fire) and bug juice. Mmmm, bug juice! And what would a cookout be without s'mores for dessert?

Sometimes we would camp out overnight, as well. I always tried to get the bluff site. Once the campers were settled into their tents for the night (yes, I had to pitch the tents, too!), I would lay a tarp out on the edge of the bluff (head by the edge so I couldn't roll off) and put my sleeping bag on it. I'd fall asleep under the big big sky, full of brilliant stars, overlooking the wide river. Sometimes moonlight lit a path to dreams across the rippling surface of the water. The horns of the big ships out in the channel would lull me to sleep. I was far too tired to care about bugs, or snakes, or the bats swooping over my head, and no one worried too much about ticks back then. Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever was rare on the East Coast, and noone had ever heard of Lyme Disease. I have never slept so soundly or felt so at peace as I did back then.

I suppose I could go on and on about those summer nights. There were quiet ones and fun ones and romantic ones enough to fill a lifetime (my lifetime). Here we are at act one, scene one of a new summer. How will your script read this year?

Tea Party

The scones and tea are on the table (you'll forgive a girl for adding a wee dram of Tullamore Dew to her tea, won't you?) and you're all invited for a cozy visit. The overstuffed chair is open to the first guest to arrive, but don't worry if you run a bit behind schedule - you're still welcome, and there's an overstuffed couch to match.

Feel free to take the conversation where you will - I just want to natter with my friends today. Here's a topic to start off the convivial chatter:

What's your favorite book of all time, and why? Feel free to wax long in your answers. Here's mine:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. What does this selection tell you about me? I guess it says that I am essentially a romantic at heart, but something of a common-sense romantic.

I think Mr. Darcy was my first love. What feminine heart could resist a gentleman who showed such tenderness and caring toward his beloved? I love the way Austen painted first his outline - the proud, reserved man who inspired anger and seemed difficult to like - then fleshed him out as a thoughtful man who overcame his character flaw out of love. His actions spoke more about his love than his words. Yes, I've noted the overuse of the word, "love," in this paragraph. Vive l'amour!

I share Elizabeth Bennett's strong sense of the absurd, as well as her taste for simple pleasures (the company of good friends, a walk in the country). I sympathize with her embarrassment over the foibles of her family, and her sober understanding of the implications of their behavior. And then, of course, Mr. Darcy comes to her rescue!

If you've never read the book, the BBC mini-series of P&P is well worth viewing. Actually, there is more than one BBC version of this story. As Virginia Gal will know, I'm speaking of the version starring Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy. This was my first DVD purchase, bought the day I bought the DVD player. In fact, I'm staying home alone on Monday, so perhaps I'll dig it out...

I have to note another favorite book. This one's a novel, with all of the delicious nuances conjured by the word. It's a book called Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon. It's the first in a series of books by this author about the same characters. Outlander is a combination time travel/historical fiction/romantic bodice-ripper that is a cut above all of the rest. It begins in Scotland just after World War II, then takes you back through time to the era of Bonnie Prince Charlie.

Outlander is well done, not at all a cheesy dimestore novel. Gabaldon invokes longing better than any author I've read. Her attention to detail is amazing, as is her writing, and the characters haunt you long after you close the cover on the final chapter of the book. I also fell in love with Jamie Fraser (shhh, don't tell). I must confess to something of a weakness for strong Celtic men (the second DVD I bought was The Quiet Man). But then, I have a fair amount of Celtic heritage to claim for myself, so I suppose it stands to reason...

OK, this one-sided conversation is getting old, so join in, please! No holds barred, and just because I'm an incurable (though common-sense) romantic doesn't mean that I expect only discussion of romantic works from you.

By the way, has anybody seen my copy of Outlander? I think I loaned it to someone. Oh well, time for a visit to amazon.com!

Snicker Doodles

Thanks to Miss Magnolia, I can once again smell something like fresh baked Snicker Doodles cookies. My vintage bottle of Eau Fresh by Jovan (discontinued) arrived in the mail this week. I am happy to report that it was sent promptly, was received in good condition, and it smells divine. I've already bid on another bottle - wish me luck!

Thank you, Miss Magnolia, for helping me to reconnect with the essence of my past!

Vignette

I remember idyllic summers spent working at camp. I recall surroundings full of natural beauty. Acres of woodlands led to a bluff, which dropped off to a wide-pathed river, and the river flowed on to the Chesapeake Bay. I wandered those woods alone sometimes, confident in their safety. I loved to sit on the edge of the bluff, day or night, watching distant ships and sailboats navigate the river - commerce and pleasure mingling on the waterway. The night sky was worthy of every romantic description you've ever heard: the stars were diamonds sparkling against deep blue velvet; breathtaking in number; close enough to pluck from the sky.

Sitting alone in such surroundings feeds the farthest reaches of my soul, quells its deepest longings for the moment. It brings a serenity so powerful and personal that it is difficult to discuss it with others, even friends and lovers, because it gives a glimpse of my elemental, unencumbered, unguarded, unfettered self. I don't like to show that side of myself to others very often; it's too vulnerable, and I don't trust enough. So many people seem to have lost the capacity for this deep pleasure, and showing the face of it to someone who cannot understand can take it from pleasure to humiliation.

I have neglected this primal core all too readily as I have aged. I can count (and describe in detail) the few times I've felt this way in the last half-dozen years. It seems that it has become harder and harder to find a spot which allows for withdrawal from the goings-on of mankind. I was so rich back then, living in an open-air cabin, with no electricity or running water. I had a rickety dresser full of shorts and t-shirts and sweats, and a pair or two of flip-flops and sneakers. I had the same old dark brown sleeping bag I'd used since second grade. My prized possessions were a battery-powered lantern, a notebook and a camp sweatshirt. But I lived for the span of each summer on a spot any billionaire would have been proud to own, and it allowed for privacy, which is the greatest luxury of all in our teeming world.

I don't know whether or not it's possible to share such a moment with someone else. I have not. Having another person present seems to take me out of the elemental world. I become aware of myself, less free to be open.

Well, enought of this serious stuff. It's making Jane a Dull Girl. X my heart, next post will be in a lighter vein. Count on it!

June Bug

Photo from classicmoviemusicals.com

I've got the June bug right now. A co-worker mentioned to me today that her cousin taught at my high school while I was a student there. I had to pull out my yearbooks to look for him, which sent me on a trip down memory lane.

Today is the anniversary of my high school graduation. I won't say which anniversary, of course, but June 20th is the day. I guess all of the June weddings and graduations pretty much ensure that it will be a month full of memories for most people.

When I walked away from the school grounds for the last time that day, I parted from some folks whom I had known almost all of my life, many of whom I have never seen again. In some ways, graduation was a knife that severed me from my childhood and the security of the well-known, setting me on a completely new and unfamiliar course in life.

One person I completely lost touch with was my friend Scott. Even though we went to different grade schools, Scott and I met in 3rd or 4th grade because of band. We were part of the same school district, and we were bussed to regional band practice every week. Scott and I became fast friends. We sat next to each other because we played the same instrument,which we considered to be quite lucky.

Scott gave me my first copy of Gone With the Wind, and he took me to see the movie for the first time. Actually, he gave me the book the night he took me to see the movie (his mom drove, we were that young). Sound romantic? Nah - just friends. Our timing was really rotten. When one of us would be smitten, the other would be engaged elsewhere, or just not interested.

Things kind of culminated in our Sophomore year of high school. Scott wrote me a romantic note and passed it to me in English class. I was completely unprepared for it at the time, and I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't have much experience in dealing with these things back then. Shucks, still don't!

I had an unexpected sense of betrayal. I felt like my brother had sent the note. To make matters worse, Scott had broken up with one of my best friends awhile before. Quite awhile before, actually, but I knew that she still hoped to win him back. It never happened, of course. I think I knew at the time that he had only dated her because I already had a boyfriend.

Scott was the friend I talked to on the phone until the wee hours on summer nights before my Frosh and Soph years. We talked about books and movies and all kinds of stuff, and we had the same group of friends. Scott grew up in the north, like me, but he would have made a perfect southern gentleman.

Anyway, long story short, our friendship was never the same. We still had some fun times after that, but the closeness was gone. I ran into Scott once in the mall after graduation. I was so glad to see him, but he seemed a bit tense, and far too serious for my jovial, outgoing buddy of the past. I've never seen him since, though I believe he has been involved in some local theater not far from our stomping grounds. He was quite the thespian when we were in high school. Scott had a gift for musical comedy, and he was excellent as the king in The Princess and the Pea.

Scott called me Polly (not anything like my real name), and he inscribed my yearbook that way. I nearly shed a tear when I read it tonight. I hope I see him again one day. We were kindred spirits then, and I'd like to think we still would be now.

Somehow my June Bug post has turned into the tale of one long lost friend. What's your June Bug tale?

Intermezzo

I'm in a pretty nice place in life right now. I seem to be getting a rejuvenating break from the ordinary. I feel well most of the time, thanks in part to improved diet and in part to treatment for my medical condition. I am more interested in going places and doing things, and I am happier.

My family is well, and Mom has recovered nicely from her cataract surgery. She can see from the left eye again, and she has new glasses on the way.

I am finally beginning to feel some degree of confidence about the new job responsibilities I took on 6 months ago. I really like my boss, though it's likely that he will supervise me for just a few more months. The Big Changes coming up toward the end of the year at work will add to my workload, and the supervisory structure for my area will change. Oh well, can't have everything.

I had a nice evening out with the girls last week (hey, Zelda and Mommanator). We had a great time over Southwestern food and ice cream. Well, in my case, almost ice cream. Sugar and fat free. It was pretty awful, and I only had a bite. But I digress.

I went to an all day training on Friday, which provided me with a rare opportunity to feel like a professional. The company was good, since a few of my favorite coworkers attended as well. Breakfast and lunch were provided, and there was a truly marvelous dessert at the end of the day. I only had 2 bites, but it was beyond description. Sensual. Chocolate raspberry mousse on a chocolate cookie crust, with chocolate ganache over the whole. As I said, sensual. A good chocolate dessert, especially one that includes raspberries, is beyond compare. It is BETTER THAN S...well, it's just better than anything.

I had a blast on Saturday night. We went to Scannicchio's in Atlantic City for a sumptuous meal with another couple. The cosmo before dinner was pretty good, too. Then we went on to The Quarter at the Trop, where we did a little barhopping (another cosmo at Cuba Libre, and a Magner's at Ri Ra). We had a designated driver, so all was well.

It was a great night to be at The Quarter, since there were lots of bachelorette parties underway. Nothing wild, just lots of truly beautiful girls wandering around. This kept the guys busy so that we (the ladies) could peek at the masculine eye candy available. Everything went right on Saturday, from getting a table at Scannichio's (when by rights we should not have been seated without a reservation) to getting seats for the ladies at both clubs.

I'm not much of a party girl, and I can get kind of uncomfortable in cities, but on Saturday night, I felt like I owned the place. I think we'll spend more time getting to know AC in the future. I've already bought tickets for a show later this summer. Now for our little secret: we left the city by 9:00. So what if we're earlybirds? We still had a great time, and we plan to go back soon.

I like the rythm of my life right now. A little work, a little play, and some time with friends. There's a lot going on this summer, which gives me hope that this little intermezzo of mine will turn into a complete renaissance.

Scents and Sensibility

Every now and then, I go in search of a new perfume to buy. I never seem to be able to find a scent that smells right on me. There are many that smell wonderful to me in the bottle, but when I try them on, they all seem too sweet, or too strong or just plain awful.

There was once a perfect scent. It was remarkably inexpensive. It was called Eau Fresh, and it was made by Jovan. It was sold in drugstores everywhere. It is not to be confused with Eau Fraiche by Elizabeth Arden. Sadly, Eau Fresh was discontinued more than a decade ago. Had I known in advance, I would have bought a lifetime supply and stored it in a dark, temperature controlled closet. Tragically, I found out the hard way that Jovan no longer produced it.

For all of these years, I have hoarded a shaker of Eau Fresh talcum powder. It carries the scent, which is reminiscent of freshly baked snicker doodles. I broke it out this week, and I've been using it. I still love it. The aroma of the talc doesn't last as long as the cologne's did, but it's essentially the same. You know how some smells can shoot an electric charge through you, and send you back to relive bits of the past? This scent holds that power over me. It brings back memories of some of the best years of my life, and it makes me yearn for those times.

When the talc runs out, the search will begin anew. I've had brief affairs with Chanel Allure and another perfume called Goldleaf and Hydrangea, and I've flirted with a few other brands, but I have yet to find something that could be my new signature scent.

Any suggestions???

Snack Time

In some ways a blog is like a Dagwood Special sandwich. The layers build up, and it develops a character of its own from the unique blending of flavors. Each post is an added slice of meat or cheese, a topping, a seasoning or a slice of bread. As layers are added, the composition of the sandwich tells you more and more about the person who crafted it. The sandwich will never define the person, but it gives you a glimpse into their heart's desires.

My friend Pax's sandwich is genuine, warm, funny, inviting and just slightly irreverent. It balances bitter with a generous dash of sweet, and it spreads the love around (just like Pax).

Virginia Gal's sandwich is honest and feminine and full of youthful spirit. I'm not using the word 'youthful' to describe age or maturity. I'm describing something that will always be lively - never old or dull. It's flavor is a little bit exotic to me because Virginia Gal's background and experiences (world traveller that she is) are so different from mine.

Joe T.'s sandwich gets 3 c's; it is colorful, clever and creative. It has many unusual elements - Dagwood would be sure to be puzzled by some of the unique flavors found in that sandwich! Joe's most recent post (Every Picture Tells a Story) sounds eerily like something I might have written myself. The voice feels like mine to me, only better (after all, Joe is a published author). Joe, I don't start massive projects like your photo DVD because I would never sleep if I did. Literally.

Anyway, you get the idea. I have to stop by these blogs (and several others) for a nibble each day, and I never seem to get full!

I think my own sandwich has been a bit dull lately - turkey breast on dry white bread,with not too many layers or new flavors added. I'm feeling a bit spicier these days, so maybe that will be reflected here! I know I've tried to stop building my sandwich (OK, my blog - the sandwich thing is getting tired) a few times, but I always come back to it. Some posts are gone forever because I took the blog down once or twice. I don't really even know my blog's birthdate because of that. I think I started it almost a year ago, sometime in July or August of 2005.

No matter that I don't know the Room's 'born on' date. It's become a place where I can be my real self, or a place for the self I aspire to be, or even a place to try on a new hat for a day. Maybe sometime soon I'll try being my bad self ;) ! I've surprised my very private self by giving very personal glimpses into my life at times, the post just below this one being a prime example of that.

Well, enough of this sentimental stuff. Anybody got a glass of milk? It's snack time; I'm off to visit a few friends for a nosh!

Oh, and Miss Magnolia is the fine, heady wine that brings class, and elegance, and a touch of orgasmic laughter (there's the bad self; don't blink, you'll miss her) to the everyday blog. Every blog is a gourmet delight with a draught of Magnolia!

Conversation Pit...

...pituitary, that is.

I found out a few months ago that I am diabetic. My endocrinologist gave me the diagnosis based on blood test results. My other physicians were more apt to say that my sugar was, "A little high." They all agreed that diet was the only way to manage my condition. I have complied and my blood sugar is now in the normal range.

Oddly enough, I did not go to see the endocrinologist because of the blood sugar problem. I went because, after many years of symptoms, one of my MDs had decided to check some hormone levels. One level was off (I wonder just how long it's been that way) and he referred me to the endocrinologist, "Just to be sure that there isn't a tiny cyst on your pituitary."

I expected to discuss hormones on my first visit to the endocrinologist. Instead, I was socked with, "You're diabetic," with the offhand addition of, "Let's get some more bloodwork, if the other level is still off, we'll get an MRI."

Fast forward through blood tests and an MRI (which was kinda cool and futuristic, and oddly relaxing) to the follow-up appointment. I had done my research and I was prepared for what the doctor had to say. Given my blood test results and my symptoms, I had already figured out that I had a pituitary tumor. It just took the doctors awhile to firm up to the diagnosis. I also thought it was likely that my type of tumor would be relatively simple to treat, with the expectation of a good outcome, though I wanted confirmation.

My endocrinologist provided the confirmation I wanted. She stressed that the tumor is not cancerous. The tumor actually produces the hormone that is throwing things off for me. She prescribed some medication to block the effects of the overproduced hormone and to shrink the tumor. All good news.

The statistics on pituitary tumors are somewhat staggering. Up to 25% of the population may have such a tumor, most of them undiagnosed, asymptomatic, and clinically insignificant. Most require no treatment and never cause problems. They are frequently discovered during MRI of the brain for another reason (such as sinus problems or concussion) or during autopsies. I am one of the rare few to have a functional pituitary tumor. Fortunately, mine is small and easy to treat.

For those of you who can't remember much about the pituitary, it is a gland the size of a large pea. It is nestled into the brain, in a cavity called the sella turcica. The pituitary is the master gland, the big boss telling the rest of our glands and organs what to do. When the chemical messengers (hormones) it dispatches are out of whack, life can change dramatically.

Pituitary tumors can cause an array of symptoms related to overproduction or underproduction of hormones. They can also cause problems (headaches, visual impairments, etc.) due to mass effect. Mass effect is pressure from the tumor (or mass) itself, and is often seen with larger tumors. These larger tumors can require surgical intervention, with varying degrees of success.

I probably would not be posting this if it were not that I am doing well. Better than ever, in fact, since I have chosen a healthier lifestyle now. The medication has been good to me, and my hormone levels are normal at this time. My sugar is in the normal range, too. All medication has side effects, and I'm working with one or two of those, but it beats the alternative. Both the pituitary situation and the sugar level will require monitoring. Thank God for medical insurance.

So why am I posting this? Here is my point: if you are experiencing any symptoms that could be caused by a hormone imbalance, ask for a screening of all of your hormone levels. Doctors are quick to prescribe medications for depression, anxiety, headaches and many other symptoms without checking for a biological root to the problem.

I mean no disrespect to physicians, and this post represents my opinion based on my experience. I can appreciate how difficult it must be to properly diagnose a patient, and family doctors just don't know that much about the subtleties of pituitary disorders. I give a great deal of credit to one of my physicians because he did pursue further testing. He listened to me, and he didn't take the easy road by saying that it was all just a midlife crisis.

I most emphatically do not want to frighten anyone into thinking they have a pituitary disorder. The vast majority of those who have pituitary tumors will never have a moment's trouble with them. It also behooves me to point out that endocrine disorders can have a variety of causes, not just pituitary tumors.

One small benefit to all of this: I got to see pictures of my brain. How many people can make that claim? OK, quite a few, I'm sure, now that MRI is so common. But it's still pretty cool! And, yes, there actually was some grey matter between my ears and behind my eyeballs...

Some conditions that can be caused by pituitary tumors:

ACROMEGALY
AMENORRHEA
CUSHING'S SYNDROME
GROWTH HORMONE DISORDERS
HYPOGONADISM
HYPOPITUITARISM
HYPERPROLACTINEMIA
HYPERTHYROIDISM

Links to information about pituitary disorders:

http://www.pituitarydisorder.net/pituitary_conditions_treatments.html

http://pituitary.mgh.harvard.edu/

http://www.pituitary.org/

http://www.ninds.nih.gov/disorders/pituitary_tumors/pituitary_tumors.htm

http://www.cancer.gov/templates/doc.aspx?viewid=6bbb152e-faf4-4a7b-a15d-5b0e42de3962&sectionid=10&version=0#Section_65

http://www.answers.com/topic/pituitary-adenoma

Small Sacrifices

I drove myself to my wedding, oh so many years ago. We had both the ceremony and the reception at an oceanside hotel, a true grand old dame by the sea. I had a room at the hotel for the day, so I schlepped my gown and my gear off early that fall morning.

On the drive to my wedding, a red-winged blackbird flew into the windshield of my car. I hit it, it died. Anyone who knows me knows that I love animals, both furry and feathered. This was not the way to start my wedding day, but meltdown was not an option. I decided that the bird's death was a unwitting sacrifice, similar to the sacrifices made on important ceremonial occasions in many religious traditions of the past. I would never choose to sacrifice any living creature (let alone my own child - I still struggle with the story of Abraham and Isaac), but I felt that the fact of the bird's sudden demise might as well carry some meaning.

I took my mom for cataract surgery last week. We went to see Will again, at his place on the Jersey side (Will's Eye Surgical Center). Mom is blind in the right eye now, and the surgery was intended to restore much of the missing sight to the left eye. All went well, and we were on the way back to Mom's house by about 11:00am. Along the way, a blue jay flew out of a tree and hit the windshield of my car. It was over so quickly that I barely knew what had happened. I resurrected the sacrifice theory as the best way of framing the incident.

With the occasional figurative sacrifice to supplement the one of the bird on my wedding day, my marriage has turned out well. Perhaps the unsolicited sacrifice of another small creature, once again on a day of significance, is a portent of further blessings ahead. Perhaps the blue jay, with its bold spirit, is a fitting emblem of the courage and strength needed for what lies ahead.

Enivrez-Vous

I came across this poem some time ago. I meant to post it, but I never did. Here it is in the French first, then in translation. I'm posting the French because the poem sounds better, has a more beautiful cadence, in French. The English translation also has a punchiness that I like, so it's worthwhile, too.


Enivrez-Vous
Charles Baudelaire

Enivrez-Vous
Il faut être toujours ivre.
Tout est là:
c'est l'unique question.
Pour ne pas sentir
l'horrible fardeau du Temps
qui brise vos épaules
et vous penche vers la terre,
il faut vous enivrer sans trêve.
Mais de quoi?
De vin, de poésie, ou de vertu, à votre guise.
Mais enivrez-vous.
Et si quelquefois,
sur les marches d'un palais,
sur l'herbe verte d'un fossé,
dans la solitude morne de votre chambre,
vous vous réveillez,
l'ivresse déjà diminuée ou disparue,
demandez au vent,
à la vague,
à l'étoile,
à l'oiseau,
à l'horloge,
à tout ce qui fuit,
à tout ce qui gémit,
à tout ce qui roule,
à tout ce qui chante,
à tout ce qui parle,
demandez quelle heure il est;
et le vent,
la vague,
l'étoile,
l'oiseau,
l'horloge,
vous répondront:
"Il est l'heure de s'enivrer!
Pour n'être pas les esclaves martyrisés du Temps,
enivrez-vous;
enivrez-vous sans cesse!
De vin, de poésie ou de vertu, à votre guise."

Get Drunk

Always be drunk.
That's it!
The great imperative!
In order not to feel
Time's horrid fardel
bruise your shoulders,
grinding you into the earth,
get drunk and stay that way.
On what?
On wine, poetry, virtue, whatever.
But get drunk.
And if you sometimes happen to wake up
on the porches of a palace,
in the green grass of a ditch,
in the dismal loneliness
of your own room,
your drunkenness gone or disappearing,
ask the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock,
ask everything that flees,
everything that groans
or rolls
or sings,
everything that speaks,
ask what time it is;
and the wind,
the wave,
the star,
the bird,
the clock
will answer you:
"Time to get drunk!
Don't be martyred slaves of Time,
Get drunk!
Stay drunk!
On wine, virtue, poetry, whatever!"

Tiers of Tears

Don't we already hate tiered cable tv services enough? I just read an article at CNN.com about the plans of the telecom giants to develop a tiered internet. Owners of websites who pay additional fees will receive greater bandwidth, allowing their sites to load faster and deliver smoother streaming content. Those who do not pay up will become the slow drones we all remember from our dial-up days.

The article notes that wealthy, established companies will have the advantage over start-ups with this type of system. The potential impact on the public in general and bloggers in particular is also noted:

"Google and Amazon and Yahoo are not going to slice those payments out of their profit margins and eat them," says Ben Scott, policy director for Free Press, a nonprofit group that monitors media-related legislation. "They're going to pass them on to the consumer. So I'll end up paying twice. I'm going to pay my $29.99 a month for access, and then I'm going to pay higher prices for consumer goods all across the economy because these Internet companies will charge more for online advertising."

Worse still,Scott argues, the plan stands to sour your Web experience. If, for instance, your favorite blogger refused to ante up, her pages would load more slowly on your computer than would content from Web sites that had paid the fees.

Under this system, surfing the web might go something like this: check the news at cnn.com, check the scores at msnbc.com, stop over at weather.com to plan for the morning commute - no problem, you cruise on through, since the wealthy parent companies of these sites have paid for top-tier delivery. Next, try to stop over at your favorite blog, or visit your neighbor's fledgling online cottage industry. Suddenly, you're back to the days of the World Wide Wait.

It seems to me that a tiered system would allow the telecoms to charge for their services twice. It would allow them to charge the consumer for faster access, but only to sites owned by corporations or individuals who had also paid for faster delivery. Pretty sweet deal for the telecom giants, if you ask me.

Personally, I see this as an affront to those of us who pay through the nose for broadband. The selling point with broadband is faster access to the internet, not to select, highly commercial parts of the internet. This is not the web as we know it now, and tiered service is not something I'd take kindly to. No thanks. I'd opt out.