Something new to blog about.

Boys and girls, it's good to get an annual physical.

What the hell do I know anyway? All my concentration and recources are on brain stuff - psychopharmacology, psychiatric disorder, et cetera. The body is a very complicated thing, after all. Full of, well, innards. And junk. All wrapped up in each other, and who knows what all that stuff does or how it works. So, but, over the past three to five years, I've noticed some things that I chalked up to menopause stuff, even though most of my friends pointed out that I was way, way to young to have menopausal symptoms. I don't know if I'm menopausal because I had an operation 3 years ago to get rid of my periods, and it worked.

And then, there's the cold thing. I've always tended to have a core temperature that is a degree lower than "average". Over the past few months, especially, I was freezing. I just figured it was the new house, the new house was chilly. I didn't say anything because everything else was so perfect. I bought new slippers and tightened the belt on my robe and cranked up the thermostat even though, normally, I like the cold.

And then. The past six month, my weight has skyrocketed. I mean that the struggle I've had with my metabolism has gotten increasingly bad, but much more so in the past six months. I was naturally hyper and more-or-less thin most of my life, until about the last couple years. I decided that since I was older, I needed to eat less. And, I've gotten slower. Not just running, I FELT slower. and old. I've been complaining to Baboo that I've just felt so OLD. I chalked that one up to being middle-aged, too. Who wouldn't? Everything could be explained away, I figured, by me being lazy or old.

So then, today, I had my annual physical. Of interest to my doc, who has known me for nearly 10 years, was the results of my thyroid hormone test. The "normal" range, depending on the lab, is between .5 and 5, or .3 and 3. Mine was 8. Apparently, that is high. By some inverse relationship, that indicates low thyroidism. Cause, unknown. Follow-up work is ordered by my doc. I will follow-up, probably on my lunch hour tomorrow. Treatment, by the way, is simple, and effective, and not at all dramatic.

Meanwhile, get that physical, if you've been putting it off. Now. No, NOW. Who knows what your little aches, pains and annoyances might mean.

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OMG, What are you DOING in there?

If it's Monday, I must be ranting about something.  It's not that I'm a negative person; I'm actually pretty positive.  It's just that there are some things that get under my skin and I can only vent about them here, where it's safe.

Today's rant is short. 

There is a single stall bathroom (WC, for our international friends) near my office.  Inevitably, I will need to go.  [Read: NEED TO GO.  Not, "want to go" not, "feel kinda like going"] because of course with all my goals for 2009 comes the extra water every day and I'm like a RACEHORSE these days, not that I'm sleek and fast but that, well, you know.

So there's no sign that lights up or anything saying, "occupied."  I come out of my office, walk confidently to the women's room, and grab that knob that doesn't turn.  

Okay.  Now.  The door knob makes an undeniable noise when it fails to turn.  It is then clear to all but the most hard-of-hearing person that someone just tried to walk into the bathroom, and is probably waiting.  I should know, because I'm hard-of-hearing, and I've heard it.  Sooooo, I lean against the wall for what seems to be an intermitably LONG time.  

OMG WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?  Why does it take women so long to use the bathroom?

I'm a chick, but C'MON!!  What the hell takes so long?  You sit, do your business, wipe, wash your hands, and LEAVE.  In fact, since it's a hospital, there's hand sanitizer every 2 feet: you don't even have to wash your hands.  JUST GET OUT!!

What else is there that could possibly be keeping you in there for such a long time?  

DO YOU NOT KNOW THAT MY DIET HAS ME DRINKING A HALF GALLON OF WATER A DAY???

It's not just work that does it.  It happens everywhere.  SO.  I have become adept at simply walking out of line and going into the mensroom (only the ones that lock) becuase, I mean, what the hell people, I mean, it's probably violating some ordinance somewhere, but more often that not it has exactly the same facilities as the women's rooms, so why is there even a difference...

BTW, I will tell you that mens rooms, on the whole, are far more disgusting than you can imagine - filthier than women's rooms.  

But that's another subject for another day.

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City Life.

I'm living in Albuquerque full time now and there are things about living in the city that are different from what I expected. Why is this a big deal? Because I have always lived in the suburbs. Always. I think I wrote about this once: mini-baboo was doing an acestry project, and asked me where "our people" were from. I told him, the suburbs. As long as there have been suburbs, there have been Our People.

Here are some things I've noticed about living in the city:

1. Freeways. I have always avoided these; mostly because it took forever to get to one. But now I live about a mile from I-40, and work about a mile from I25. Everything is a quick jump on the freeway. On, Off.

2. Just as DP promised, I am 15-20 minutes away from everything I want to do. Work, School, international food stores, organic hippie stores, far

mer's markets, used book stores, upscale hibrow fancy schmancy stores. Not so the suburbs, which are almost completely and insanely crowded big box chains and nothing interesting to see.

Ever.

3. Diversity. There are interesting places where the signs are in some language I don't know, and I'm not just talking about Spanish. There are temples, markets, restaurants that serve food I've never had before. There are people who don't speak English and don't need to, because their whole neighborhood speaks their language.

4. Scary city parts. Parts that, when I drive through them, I lock my doors and sit reeeeeeeal low. Parts where people walk across the street (and NOT at the crosswalk) staring me down, DARING me to hit them. They don't hurry. They saunter. So unlike the suburbs, where everyone is safe and nobody ever walks. It's interesting knowing that it exists. (Not interesting enough to hang out there, mind you.) We're talking about places where it's not all that unusual to maybe see a car on fire, and nobody's really paying attention, other than, "hey, kids, better stay away from that car, it's on fire."

5. Alternative transit. There is a single bus in the suburb where I used to live, for a population of over 60,000 people. Riding your bike was a dangerous proposition. There were few places to walk, and a higher liklihood of being run down by someone driving a HUMMER who had never been in the military and doesn't know how to drive one. Usually the HUMMER drivers are housewives on their way to their manicure. Where I live now, there are buses, sidewalks, bike lanes, and a train.

6. Places to walk and run. As I mentioned, it was hard to bike in the suburb where I lived. Running was similarly frustrating. Everything that was paved was the realm of the car, and never shall the runner dare to touch it. Baboo had cars swerve at him deliberately, just to mess with him. I've seen cars race to beat runners and cyclists to intersections. The cyclists in the Burque, though, are a little more organized, and more militant. Good for them. Meanwhile, there is a system of connected, paved, dedicated paths all throughout the city by which one can run, walk, or cycle pretty much to anywhere in the city, safely.

7. History. Albuquerque is 300 years old. Actually, it's been around longer than that, but the place known as, "Albuquerque" has been here for 300 years. I'm in the process of trying to learn what I can about it. My previous suburban city was incorporated around 1980. Cool.

8. Politics. without going into a lot of detail, while living in the suburbs I was basically that wild and crazy hippie vegetarian chick. Albuquerque, though, is a bastion of liberal thought, much of it far more weird that you can imagine and than I'm willing to entertain, and the end result is that, in Albuquerque, I come off as a boring, concrete soccer mom. But it's delightful, just delightful, the "Whirrled Peas" and, "COEXIST" bumber stickers.

9. My friends. Almost all my friends live here, on this side of the river. They are the best part, and they, like everything else, are all about 15-20 minutes away.

Oops! almost forgot:

10. Kitch. I. love. it. It's Route 66, it's Native American reservations, there's almost no end to the kitch .

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OMG. Who ARE these people?

"...the grief that has enveloped me, and it's amazing. I'm sitting here with tears streaming down my cheeks, and I need someone somewhere that could tell me this is normal..."

The subject of my rant today is people "struggling" with the empty nest. I'm talking about deep, anguished writings by women who are trying to build a life outside of their children. Stuff like this (above) and throughout, which I've edited so that the original authors can't be identified.

OMG, WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? I started raising children at 19, and if you don't count a couple of my ex husbands, and the hundreds of students I've taught, I've raised three of them. Three children, who have by and large kept me hostage while they took everything I ever tried to have for myself: my favorite flavors of special K -I found three empty boxes in Mini's room while cleaning out the old house, and I've spent the weekend scrubbing boot black off stairs. This would be from JROTC combat boots.

"...I find myself wandering to his room, where I sit on the edge of his bed and thoughts of him run through my mind..."

I also found candy wrappers and old socks behind nearly every piece of furniture in his room...and also throughout the house. (And do we condone this? We do not.) Then, I packed up the car and drove to our new house, where I have cereal that will stay UNTIL I EAT IT and where, when I go to get something, it will be exactly where I left it. The only messes to clean are the ones that I myself have created.

Which carries its own challenges. But, anyway.

Am I a terrible mother who hates kids? I don't think so. I used to think I was - I tried apologizing to my grown children for their inconsistent upbringing and for being so crazy, but they've both assured me that I wasn't a bad mother, e.b., You should see some of the mothers my friends have, and they call and email me often enough to where I feel pretty assured that they don't have "issues." At least not yet.

I'll just say it: I feel like I've been let out of PRISON. Maybe I put too much into motherhood; I don't know. I felt like my job was to raise kids to be healthy, responsible individuals who could take care of themself and not need me and move on to live their lives. I stopped trying to get some meaning or reward out of parenthood long ago. I was my job, and when I enjoyed it, that was a bonus. But now I'm done.

"...As my son packed his things, my heart ached. Only a mother could know the anguish of saying goodbye, giving him wings so that the struggling baby bird can soar. I want to grab his little beak and say 'come back to your safe, loving, nest'..."

Good lord. To my children: I love you, but if you're coming for a visit, I want to see a return ticket before I let you in the door.

I come home at night, pour a glass of wine or a cup of coffee, sit on a clean couch, and look out at the foothills. Sometimes I go for a walk. I enjoy a quiet supper with Sweet Baboo. I'm in awe that life can be this good, even, and calm--devoid of any drama except that which I care to add.

There is nobody for me to ferry to an event. There is nobody to shove several pieces of paper at me at 6:45 am for my signature and/or checks to write, nobody to drop dirty clothes and books on the floor or tell me tearfully at 8 pm that they have to have 2 pieces of white posterboard RIGHT NOW or they will FAIL.

I bet this is the part where she says she misses all that.

I have a plaster cast of someone's handprint (I can't remember who) with a little poem attached that has a line or two about how much I'll miss their dirty handprints some day. I don't. Maybe that makes me a bad mom, but, that's something I'll have to live with, I guess, while sipping my chocolate wine and planning my next vacation.

I sit in my living room , watch a movie with the man I love, and there are no interruptions. The stereo has not been blown, the TV doesn't have smudgy smears on it, the cats are calm, because nobody has chased them with a paper sword that day or tried to stuff them into a box. There is low-fat ranch for my salad because nobody drank it straight from the bottle. There is chocolate milk for my mocha lattes because nobody drank the entire carton while sitting in front of the TV WHERE THEY ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE EATING followed by putting the empty carton back into the refrigerator.

"...I miss having teenagers around...I would hear newest jokes and newest music. That has been the hardest....

The phone almost never rings, but when it does, it's for me, and it's not teachers or ex-spouses calling to let me know that my son or daughter is in trouble, failing a grade, or mouthing off to them. When the TV isn't on, I sit quietly and listen to music, or read.

I'm 44. Now my life begins.

"I guess I knew that it would be here sooner or later, like the terrible twos and the teenage years. Everybody goes through it, so why do I feel like my guts have been ripped out, thrown on the road, and run over by a truck?"

OMG, woman. Go for a run, or to spin class.

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Random and not-so-random stuff.

1. Physical therapy. I've been doing this twice a week for a couple weeks now. It involves of "tissue work," electrostimulation therapy (I think that's what it's called, and I'm too lazy to look up the correct terminology) and showing me stretches, which I am to do twice or three times a day. I am prescribed exercises to work on my hamstrings, abductors, and lower abdominals (every other day). oh, and the foam roller, twice a day (vomit).

2. Diet. I had a revelation, ala Alcoholics Anonymous in which I realized I have two choices: eat what I want and be a heavy runner, or limit what I eat and be a lighter runner. I chose the latter because I suspect that the extra weight is hard on my feet and joints. As I much like my feet and joints, I have decided I have to make the choice and get serious about what I eat.

3. New house. We are living at the new house full time and now that we've had people come and go and fix various things wrong with it, I am now seeing my evenings starting to free up so that I can start doing short runs after work. Next week we go back to daylight savings time, which means more light at the end of the day--yippee!

I HEART the new house. It is cozy, which means far less space to lose things in. Also, no stairs. YAY. It behooves me to let you know how much Baboo has spoiled me in furnishing this house. Seriously. He has.

4. After the laptop that I bought from CircuitCrappy died for the last and final time, Baboo bought me a new one, because he is awesome, and because he spoils me rotten, far more than I deserve.

5. Spring Has Sprung. >Hack, wheeze, cough, snifffff<

...The National Weather Service in Albuquerque has issued a WindAdvisory... which is in effect from 9 am this morning to 6 PM MSTthis evening. A tight surface pressure gradient is expected to develop across the region today. This will result in strong west to southwestwinds of 30 to 35 mph with gusts approaching 55 mph...

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Another quiz

Inspired by DP. Only she knows why.

You Are a Drama Queen (or King)

And the oscar goes to... you! You're all about overreacting and just plain acting. You see the world as your stage, and give a great performance. And while you're friends may find you entertaining at times...Everyone's secretly hoping that you'll just chill a little. (But they'd never tell you - they fear your wrath!)

Are You a Drama Queen (or King)?

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What's YOUR score?

42 As a 1930s wife, I am Average Take the test!

Once again, I find myself in the hump of the bell curve. What's your score?