Breaking News

I adore my FSIL. She's awesome. Gorgeous, funny, warm, not intimidated by the crazy of our family. And my brother is totally head over heels in love with her.

Happy, happy sighs.

Oh, and I had the best, best, best dinner ever last night. Crab bisque so good I wanted to drink it by the gallon.

And the Spurs are playing right now, as I type. And since we're home, we get local coverage.

Lovely, despite being sick.

So it's been awhile.

I'm busy.

I've been ill.

I'm busy.

There was a horrible fright at work, which I am assured is nowhere near as drastic or grave as I thought it was. Otherwise, things proceed apace. I'm settling in, and looking around a bit in wonder at how on earth I managed to fall into this job. Much as I complain and am fearful about it . . . I started this line of work not even three years ago with zero experience or training, and now I've fallen into my current position and it's astonishing. I guess I'm doing all right after all. Never would have predicted this five years ago, but that can be said about much of my life, really.

I'm busy.

I'm tired.

Illness takes a lot of me. I perhaps ought have taken another day off, but the two I took nearly did me in - I'm piled under work and deadlines, but hanging in.

There's not much to say, really. I'm doing fine. I've lost a couple of pounds (the scale says 6-7, actually, but I know I've not been getting enough to drink the last couple of days, so I think that's not so accurate).

There was a fugitive hunt through my townhome complex - dogs searched our patio and there were police officers with guns drawn right outside my window as helicopters circled overhead. Don't know if they caught the guy or not.

We thought Barney got out of the house, but a frantic, tear-filled search turned him up nonchalantly resting under the bed, annoyed at the fuss.

The NBA season started for the Spurs yesterday, and it was a fun, entertaining game.

I went to the opera, and learned that I am really more of a football and beer sort of person.

I've started two or three thoughtful sort of exploratory posts and haven't had the energy to finish them. Maybe soon.

I'm going home this weekend to see my brother, who has returned from Iraq. He's bringing his fiancee, and I'm so excited to see him and meet her. I don't know quite when it happened (when I wasn't looking, I expect), but my brother has become such an awesome person. I just adore him.

DH is well. I'm well. That is well.

I could use a few more hours in the day though. Mostly for sleep.

Hope you are also well, wherever you are.

A Conversation

Just held in my house.

Scene: We are flipping channels, between football, baseball playoffs and a re-run of The Unit. I comment on how that was a good show that would have been much better without all the army wife/family B plot. We agree. Make joke about house flipping, the topic of discussion by army wives in B plot. I riff on the show, and jab at one woman in particular.

Him: To be fair, I always hated Tiffy and Mac. But Molly got kidnapped! And it was all a Unit plot!

Me: Ugh, whatever. You would think that after all her patronizing scolding of other, lesser Unit wives, she could suck up a tiny kidnapping where she wasn't even hurt.

Him: How would you feel if you were held captive and your husband refused to walk away after that? Hmmmm?

Me: Whatever, the whole thing was lame.

Him: Well, I for one would walk away from *Place of Employment* if you were ever taken hostage as a result of something *Place of Employment* did. So there.

Me: That's sweet and all, but dude, you'd walk away from your job for a cheeseburger. Don't act like it's a sacrifice.

Him: Who has cheeseburgers?! I want a cheeseburger. Don't make such tempting offers if you aren't going to follow up.

* * * *

And scene.

I love my husband. A whole bundle's worth.

Love you, baby.

All my lost little chickies - the hope and promise, and yes, love.

* * * *

Love you and miss you, Gabe.

Today. And every day.

National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Day - October 15th

Tomorrow is a day set aside for Pregnancy and Infant Loss. There are a lot of statistics I could throw out about the number of pregnancy losses today, and the number of infant losses, even in this era of medical marvels and miracles.

They don't mean much though. Pregnancy loss is common early on - but no less painful or tragic if you've experienced it. The loss of hope and joy that attends an early pregnancy loss is acute and painful. The innocence and peace of which a woman is robbed hurts. Pregnancy loss later on . . . well, you've seen the results of that if you've ever read my blog before. And infant loss is still so sadly common, even today, even in our nation with all the advances and options. . .

If you've lost your baby, tomorrow is a day to remember it. If you are an activist, tomorrow is a day to think about how we can encourage more research into pregnancy loss and especially stillbirths, to think about how legislation can support that, to honor programs like the March of Dimes and their efforts to encourage healthy pregnancies and reduce the number of premature births through an enormous variety of methods. If you know someone who has experienced a loss, contact them tomorrow - let them know you think of them and of their babies.

And tomorrow, at 7 pm in your timezone - light a candle in remembrance. There will be a wave of light through the world as we babylost and our friends, families and loved ones light candles in honor of our lost ones, in acknowledgement of the light they've brought into our lives.

The art of candy making

Ever made candy? Like fudge, toffee or peanut brittle? I mean the old fashioned way, where you need a candy thermometer and a glass of cold water to test the stages of the candy?

Making candy this way generally involves a lot of constant stirring and monitoring the temperature very carefully. If it gets too high for too long, it's easy to ruin the candy. The mixture gets more and more brittle the longer it's over high heat. I can tell you, for instance, that when I make English Toffee, it requires boiling for 13 minutes at a particular temperature and constant stirring. If you do it right, it's wonderful. If you don't, it's awful.

Anyway, the point is that today was a day in which I realized how delicate a balance I'm trying to maintain right now. I'm very stressed out this week. Multiple deadlines have hit at the same time, and if I could just have some time I could get caught up and get this stuff done. But there is no time. I've been hither and yon and it's exceptionally frustrating to balance the crisis of the day with the regular work that needs be done. Even more so when I am balancing what used to done by 2 people on a full-time basis, and even more yet when I am learning as I go.

Every day is an improvement, and I mean that seriously. I feel far better than when I started. Less like I'm going to fuck it all up. But I likewise know this isn't my best work. Oh, don't get me wrong, I can look myself in the mirror and tell myself honestly that I've done the best I could, but it's definitely the best I could in these circumstances, and not the best I'm capable of doing. Because, well, I'm only one person and there are only so many hours in the week. If I were performing in this way and that one department was all I was doing, it would not be good enough. Since it's not all I'm doing, I'm doing the best I can.

But I want it to be the best possible. It's terribly draining. More draining is that we're all in this boat. I'm in no way unique in my unit or hell, in the world. Do more with less. Make it work. You know? So I'm trying, we're all trying, and we're all feeling frazzled, defensive and acutely aware that nothing is quite turning out as we'd wish.

Too much time spent over heat that's too high, too much (or not enough) stirring, who knows? All I can say is that the pressure is getting to be too much.

I got 'yelled' at today - oh, not literally. This person doesn't raise their voice. But called out, taken to task, whatever. In front of others. And you know what? It wasn't totally uncalled for. It mostly was - another department fucked up. And I can't control that. And I ought to have followed up more quickly than I did. But I didn't. Because I'm swamped. And it was all I could do not to cry. I mean, tears in my eyes, burning throat and everything.

I took a moment to gather myself and to blink, and I wrote to Dh that "I felt like I was going to snap, I was stretched so thin and felt so brittle." And I've been close all week.

The balance is off. I have thought since Monday that if I could only just get more time to work at night/at home, I could get caught up and be ok. But last night, I was locked out. I tried to connect remotely, but it didn't work because my computer went into sleep mode and locked down. How that happened, when I was able to remote in all weekend is beyond me. DH told me to take it as a sign that I needed a break - something echoed by my supervisor today when I apologized for not getting more done.

And again tonight - I brought everything home to work, only to find that the internet was out for us. A problem with our broadband connection. This time, instead of fretting for three hours, and alternating between stress and relief and frustration, I shrugged and hopped on Aunt Beast. 20 minutes. Awesome. It's shameful how hard that is, but I did it.

And of course, right before I get ready to go to bed after a bit of fluffy writing, I see that the internet connection appears to be restored. And so it is.

You think it's a sign that I need to work harder at the balance? I'm both amused and exasperated, but either way I'm taking the hint. Off to bed for me, and a massive push tomorrow.

Cheers.

For the record

I lost a full two pounds overnight.

That is why I traditionally weigh myself in the morning.

Also, that means it's slightly more palatable.

Sophistry has it's uses, my friends.