Just off

Now I am past the slightly scary exacerbation, with its very temporary double vision. I am working five days a week. Not much time for my life, but there you have it.

My days involve some three hours commute, and 7 1/2 hours working in less than wonderful conditions. My whole way of getting through is to simply repeat " I don't care " constantly to myself.

When I was a teenager, I worked in factories in some pretty nasty conditions. Always, the way I made it through was by telling myself I could put up with anything temporarily.

So I guess the next 5-7 years will be full of my mantra, and the knowledge that it is all temporary. Perhaps with the economy improving, the 401K will improve, and there will be jobs closer to home.

Boy, I am hoping that for everybody.

pb

Not so good.

Lately we have many people out sick, and a few people out on vacation. There is more than enough work to go around, and not enough people.

All compounded by the ridiculous loud drone that makes everyone both on edge and half asleep at the same time. Whoever decided that we need to put workers around the air conditioning compressor ought to be take out and shot. With lousy 7mm handguns, about two hundred of them. For a long, slow, annoying death, like we are suffering.

Then, oh goody! We, and when I say we, I mean those of us who already get up freaking early so we can commute the hour or so to work. Yes, that "we." Anyway, we were asked to come in a half-hour early. So let's rush our asses to work on Friday, when the whole world is on the Southern Tier Expressway (17 to the locals) with their campers and suv's, everyone going to a vacation destination except "we."

So the place is insane when we get there. Still people out sick and others on vacation. And that lovely drone buzzing us along...

There wasn't a thing I could do for more than 10 minutes before I was interrupted by a person looking for my coworkers on vacation. I spent half the day promising myself that I would get to the bathroom soon, real soon. And the other half resigned to the fact that there was no such thing Friday.

When I finally ran to the potty, at about 11, after having arrived at 9:30, all without benefit of a break, I noticed that my sight had suddenly gone double! Everything had an extra edge on it. Like a shiny ghost self just in front or behind it. This gave me a sick feeling when I tried to walk, because it threw me off balance.

Now, my father had a similar experience, minus the horrific work day, because he's retired. He'd had a TIA. I was not a happy camper.

There was no break in the action until I finally gave up and went to lunch. I called Husband RJ and told him I would probably head directly to the emergency room when I got home.

There was no freaking way I would sit in a strange emergency room some 4-6 hours, then have my husband drive out to Binghamton to come for me.

As we got closer to quitting time, I mentioned to the boss that I was having a problem and would see a doctor when I got home, but would likely need to follow up with doctors on Monday. When I described what I was experiencing, she ordered me to go to the Emergency Room.

At that moment I regretted having mentioned it. She enlisted an HR person, and the two of them worked on me to go to the emergency room. "Let us call you an ambulance." No freaking way.

Anyway, when I got home, I called my Neuro.

Weird. The doctor on call very calmly told me he thought it was the MS. He sounded so completely and calmly convinced that I simply accepted it. He thought maybe I would want to check with my eye doctor, but that fizzled out because they never got back to me.

By the time I got up in the morning the whole episode had passed. My face is still slightly numb from it all, but that was it.

Weird.

pb
Little Pond

Died and went to Hell

...last March.

The constant hum at work is so loud I hear it in my sleep. Turns out it is the airconditioning compressor. It runs loudest and most constantly during these (almost) Dog Days.

We have been informed that we cannot wear music headphones.

I think I have earplugs. I hope.

Going stark raving mad.

pb
Little Pond

Let's get one thing straight.

I am disabled. I walk with a cane.

The trips to the Chemung River are specifically related to the disability. When Ellie and I walk through the street of Elmira, I walk with a cane, and Ellie walks with a choke-chain. We call it "Walking Pretty." She stays at my side and we try to move briskly along, to get off the hot streets in the summer, or to get in from the bitter cold in the winter.

On the banks of the Chemung River, Ellie is free to poke and hunt, and I am able to take pictures. We keep the leash handy for encounters with other human-dog pairs.

Yet I stress that the River is dangerous. Ellie does not swim in the river where it is deep and flowing, and I do not wade. Well, almost never.

Ellie is allowed to swim where the river is fairly still and shallow. The proof of this is her tail: up when she wades, and lower when she wades.

I would never risk my little buddy's safety.

pb

Little Pond

Night of the Long Knives, revisited.

Again.

It started last week, before the public announcement. One of our building supers was "offered" early retirement, and he took it. One day it was "Hi" and the next it was "Bye!"

Yesterday I got word that the lady with whom I had a disagreement (and since reconciled) was let go. No way would I wish it on anyone, especially not her. She and her coworkers were lucky enough to get work with Gannett after their publishing house went under. After only a year or so, it has to be hard for her.

Today the list got significantly longer, including a few people I knew well. I am told this current batch is being "let go," so I don't think they were offered a buyout. We were never promised a buyout this go-around, anyway.

As I remember, those who were on vacation, or out sick, when the white list went into effect, were removed when they returned. Same thing happened when I went on partial layoff years ago. I could still go back and learn my fate.

One can only hope they will allow me some sort of retirement, if they do.

But, by now I feel that whatever happens, happens.

We have bigger fish to fry.

pb
Little Pond

Delicious! Recipe for disaster.

After a quick visit with Violet and her new parents, I stopped by a Chinese takeout to grab a "house special" chow mein. Bought a whole quart, even though I am the only person in the entire family (both sides, likely) who eats the stuff.

Little things began tapping at the back of my head. "Chinese Buffet" on the sign, instead of "Family Depot," however that really translates from the original language. Well, it had literally been more than a year since I last ordered from there.

Very spare place, with only three workers. Used to be busier, with many people. Oh, and no "Buffet" or any sign of it. Well, okay, it's a holiday weekend, after all.

Finally, the most damning clue of all: it was delicious! Usually I would consider it a huge slug of veggies and some little pieces of meat and shrimp. Good for me, but not great tasting. I generally fix it with duck sauce.

This stuff was wonderful: flavorful and welcome; it didn't even need soy sauce. I ate two enormous servings and saved the rest for the next day.

The final clue came last night in my sleep. Weird, off-the-wall dreams, that somewhere, somehow, always feature a bathroom.

I woke up crampy and cranky, and flew into the real bathroom. Twice within twenty minutes.

When things settled down, I took the HuggaMutt for a walk in the Newtown Creek area. Had to duck into some heavy shrubbery to ease my bladder, where I got a nasty surprise.

Time to head home, change my clothes, and do a special load of laundry.

If you live in the Elmira/Southport area, and are sensitive to MSG, here's a tip: Avoid the Chinese Buffet in Southport Plaza.

Avoid it like the Plague.

pb
Little Pond

You probably know

Yesterday, Violet Meadow Johns became the youngest person ever to cause me to have a wetting accident, and the only one to ever cause three.

Three accidents, to be exact.

She arrived at 2:09pm, in a bit of a rush, after her mother suddenly dialated and effaced, fully and all at once.

We were just arriving to console our daughter for having to go through another day of pitocin and slow, annoying, contractions. She'd already begun to deliver.

There was a quick, lovely visit with a teeny, squalling newborn, and we were rushed out to give the mother and baby time to bond and practice nursing.

It was the beginning of many rushes to find facilities. I never made it to the ladies room for any of them, but I did go through lots of protection, and glad of it. And, with a building full of nurses and various supplies, who cares?

Don't know when things will settle down enough in the nerve department, but then again, I don't much care. Busy with other stuff, we are.

She's perfect, she's beautiful, she's a miracle, and well worth all the trouble.

pb

Little Pond