Archives for March 2004

You want the good news first or the bad? Okay. The good news is I don’t have bronchitis. Yay! The bad news is I have pneumonia.

For god’s SAKE. I don’t even know how I got it! I wasn’t even feeling badly till Wednesday, remember? And even then, I didn’t feel that badly. Yesterday I napped a lot but felt well enough to go out (but thank GOD I came home early and didn’t party like the rock star I wanted to be).

Today I felt pretty darn bad, but I’m training someone at work, so I got up and went. But my lungs hurt so awfully that by nine o’clock, I actually decided to get not only an appointment, but also the head honcho’s approval to use my trainee as a real 911-answerin’ body so I could go to said appointment. I was 99% sure I had bronchitis and she’d give me a scrip, and I’d get back to work. Nope. Not allowed to work until Monday. And she said I’d had a narrow miss, that if I hadn’t come in and waited till next Tuesday after my work week, as was my original plan, I’d be in the hospital. Apparently we’ve caught this early and it’s only infected one part of my lungs. Damn. I’d hate to see late. This hurts like an em-effer. Only when I cough, though, and the antibiotics should knock that out in a few days.

Pneumonia. Sheesh. I am SUCH a lucky girl. Lucky that I live now, when the right medicine is available that will make me better. Lucky that I live in a region of the world where I can obtain that medicine. Think about it. We have to count our blessings, ‘cause there’re so damn many of ‘em. Yeah?

My doctor (gotta love this) gave me eucalyptus oil as I left the office, so I’ve already steamed my lungs once. And I hit the grocery store on my way home, so I have juice and nilla wafers and tea. I have TiVo. What the heck more could I want? Usually wracked with guilt over missing work (especially in the midst of training), for once I have none. And with no guilt comes the ability to enjoy sitting on the couch watching Queer as Folk and lying in bed reading Ms. Montgomery. Too bad no one’s allowed to come and play, but maybe I’ll blog-cruise later. If I don’t, though, or if I fall (further) behind in email-answering, forgive me. My eyes feel hot and I’m off to rest.

Oh, and Bethany is stunning today. If I do say so meself.

We went to an oyster/cajun place in the Richmond district of San Francisco. Tonight was Boys’ Night Out. Okay, it’s all girls, technically, but we like to play like we’re the swingin’ bachelors, living it up, beer and curse words flowing freely. When we sang Happy Birthday to Brooke, we were astonished how loud we were.

It’s nice to be around people who have fun. It’s nice to be out and about, especially in the evening of a day that wasn’t too great (I spent most of my time in bed, napping fitfully, reading more L.M. Montgomery journals). It’s good to have people laugh with you, to laugh until you hurt.

I swear that my lungs actually feel BETTER for all of this. I didn’t overdo it. I was very careful. Two beers, some nice snapper (I’m not thinking about the two jello shots. What? Isn’t that cajun?), and back on the Bay Bridge before ten. And now, to continue my Being Good, I’m off to bed. Up early – my week starts tomorrow (Friday). So g’night. And happy weekend to you!

https://rachaelherron.com/we_went_to_an_o/

I like knowing myself. I really do. Yesterday I was so off, so out of it, that I knew there was something wrong. I don’t normally get so blah feeling. I don’t normally feel like my words don’t matter – usually I know as long as they matter to me, that’s enough. And it was odd, as soon as I closed the computer and pouted around the apartment, it hit me. I didn’t feel so hot.

Yep, getting sick. Not your typical cold/flu sick, but bronchial sick. All of a sudden (and I do mean just like that, out of the blue), my lungs started to ache and I started to wheeze. I have to tell you, I was almost relieved to have something upon which to pin my case of the mean-reds. THAT was why I was in such a horrible mood. Oh, okay.

So I didn’t go anywhere, I didn’t go to the nursery, I just crawled onto the couch with a blanket and my mindless Noro knitting and watched TiVo all morning and into the early afternoon. Know what I watched? Oh, man. Can I really admit this? I watched like four episodes of The Real World, San Diego. I know. But it was perfect.

Then, of course, I had to get up and go to work. Not only was there political drama at the department, but I got stuck working a ten hour shift instead of the 4-6 hours I was originally scheduled for. But it was fine, it got done, and the political storm turned into a mild breeze. I felt sick, but hung in there. I found the DayQuil I always keep in my locker, and I was grateful to the gods that be that I’m so well stocked. Three hours later, I was complaining that they just don’t make DayQuil like they used to. “I don’t feel any better. I think that stuff might have expired or something. Damn.” *cough cough* About an hour later I found the two gelcaps still in my pocket. Yep. Drugs often work when you REMEMBER to take them. Uh-huh.

Got poor sleep (Rachel-with-no-a, that’s partially your fault – you SO owe me a beer the next time you see me – so glad you’re okay, darlin’), but today I have NOTHING to do until this evening when I have a splendid night out in the City planned with splendid people. I had toyed with the idea of doing all that backyard-planting curtain-making white-light-stringing stuff today, but screw it. I have hours more Queer as Folk captured on TiVo, and I’m staving off bronchitis. Just the ticket, don’tcha think?

Thanks for the wonderful, adorable, loving comments yesterday. I appreciate each and every single one. Man, I’m in a better mood today. Whew.

Feeling rather blah today. I hate feeling blah. I keep asking myself why I feel this way, since it’s the middle of the weekend, and it’s going to be a gorgeous day, and then I keep remembering: I have to work this afternoon/evening. Overtime. WHY did I agree to that? Ugh. I don’t have to go in until 3pm, but it’s going to shadow my whole morning.

I’m just feeling a little off. My brain isn’t working right. A moment ago I just had a bright thought – I’ll take myself out to breakfast and then to the nursery! Yeah! Then I remembered I just ate breakfast. Dang, damn, dang. I traded a potential bacon and eggs breakfast for a bowl of Cheerios because I’m thinking backwards.

I bought fabric for curtains yesterday. But I don’t feel like sewing. I also worked on the garden a bit and hung my FOUNTAIN! Did I tell you about that? (Just the thought of it cheers me up.) Mom and I went to a funky nursery last week, with odd bits of statuary and old fountains everywhere. This particular guy had a price of $217 written on the back, but he’d been hanging around the nursery for a long time, it was obvious. His basin was kinda sludgy and he had been turned off. So the guy working the counter called the boss and then said, “Is thirty-nine okay?” Shrug. Yeah, I guess. Inside I was twirling with delight. I had been going to make an Italian-like fountain, but that would have taken time and even more money than this cost. And this guy, oh, he’s Italian all right. Just look:

I need to get some rocks for the basin, since right now, he LOOKS good, but he runs so smoothly that there’s no splashing sound, thus defeating the whole Fountain Idea.

I bought some plants for the garden, too, but I really need to talk to my front-unit neighbors, and soon. When I was thinking about moving in, they mentioned that they’d like to use my backyard to store a shed for their bikes. I was waiting for the landlord out front, hadn’t even seen the backyard, and agreed that of course, if I moved here, it wouldn’t be a problem. I’ve been here a month and no shed has appeared, making me wonder if they’ve come up with an alternate solution. That would be fabulous, because I’ve in the meantime become very jealous with my garden. It’s mine. I don’t want to share. And I didn’t know about the sliding glass door then, either, and didn’t understand that if they did put an ugly ole shed there, they’d be looking right into my home every time they went back there.

Looking up at this entry, I’m a little grumpy again. I feel like I just ramble and babble on about things that don’t have any earthly interest for another human soul. Who CARES about a bike shed in my backyard, ‘cept for me.

I think I’m dehydrated. Must. Drink. Water. Wish I didn’t have to work. Bleah. I think I’ll go buy a few more plants.

And a shot of Adah. She’d cheer anyone up, I think.

When I’m tired, I’m such a dumb-ass that I scare myself. Yesterday work sucked. Big time. The phones are being upgraded. Unfortunately, that meant they weren’t working well, if at all, for most of the day. Imagine a 911/police department communication center without working phones. I got so stressed out that I went beyond stress and entered this amused zen zone. I just giggled. The new 911 ring-tone sounds like that Close Encounters tone, and it cracked me up every time it rang. Boo-bee-boo-BOO!

Worked overtime, too. And trained all day on the radio, on a really busy day. I was driving home when I realized I had my cell phone open and to my ear. I had been holding it to my ear for at least seven blocks. There was no one there, it hadn’t rung, and I hadn’t dialed anyone. I was just listening. This was so funny to me that I called work (hoping they’d be able to answer) and while I was waiting at the stoplight for Brandy to answer, the guy behind me honked for me to go. I looked up to see if I’d missed the green light. I WAS AT A STOP SIGN. Not a light. And I only go through that intersection eight times a week. So when Brandy picked up the phone, it was to the sound of honking and a maniacal giggle.

I came home and didn’t sleep. No, that would have taken the fun out of my sleepy-high. Instead, I sat on my couch and went through all the ring-tones that I had downloaded to my new-fangled cell phone. Oh, my god. The choice! But technology hasn’t quite caught up yet, at least not with the $79 (upgrade) phones from Verizon. You can download almost any popular song, but each one sounds like it’s being played by some guy with stringy dark hair playing his 1985 electronic keyboard in his mother’s basement in Bakersfield. Pretty much only Coldplay and 80s pop/techno tunes sound good. And if I had Coldplay as my ringtone, I’d…. I’d….. Well, I wouldn’t be me. Let’s just say that.

But 80s tunes, hey. Let’s talk. I could NOT decide between Depeche Mode, the Cure, and A-ha. Oh, the Psychedelic Furs were in the running, too. (And my GAWKs, Cannonball was way up there, but sounded kinda stoopid. Must stick with 80s electronica.) Finally went with “Close to Me” by the Cure. Upbeat. A little silly. With that nostalgic I-wore-Madonna-bracelets-and-I-know-you-did-too kind of thing goin’ on. I would call myself, just for a thrill, but my home phone decided to break today. Lord.

It’s the (my) weekend! Yow!

It’s going to be at least a week before I get the new color Koigu Kersti from darling Rob, which will be a closer match to my dye-lot, hopefully. I love Cromarty. I adore Alice Starmore. But hell, I’m tired of eensy cables. I started the Retro Prep (see IndiGirl Amy for fab examples of this one) in Noro 55, that stone beach colorway. It’s the most muted Noro I’ve ever worked with and I’m in love. TOO excited that I’m going to be doing miles of stockinette. Could not be happier.

I actually cast it on Saturday night, knowing that I’d be training for the next four working days (SMFS). This is the same trainee that I had about four months ago. I got her at the beginning, when she knew nothing. Police dispatch is such a ridiculously detailed, difficult job that it usually takes 4-6 months to learn, and it’s a slow learning curve. At the beginning, I talked all day. I had four weeks of just talking. Just teaching. I never knew you could talk for ten hours at a time, teaching, and still have a million more things you’ll never cover. You’ll never go over every contingency, every emergency, every way things can go wrong. But she’s back with me now, an (almost) proficient dispatcher, and I’m merely listening to her while she dispatches on the radio. I can’t type for her, I can’t talk for her, I can only correct her when necessary. I must have yarn in my hands for this. And I tell you, Noro in stockinette? The perfect thing to keep me from wringing my little hands together. The trainee is really doing amazingly well, but almost every dispatcher is an opinionated person who does things her way, which is, of course, the only right way. It’s SO hard to not take over when things get heated. To let her flounder a little. Oy.

I want to show you a picture of the finished front of Ms. C. But that means I have to dig out my camera, plug it in, download the snaps, choose one, resize it, save it, yadda yadda. Don’tcha just get freakin’ lazy sometimes?

Oh, all right. Hang on.

There. Here y’are:

And one for scale:

Thanks for all the condolences sent to Christy. It shows (again) the loving side of blogdom, and it means a lot to us. Really. Think of her some more if you can. It’s lonely, losing a friend like that. Love you, Christy. I’m proud of you.