CERT Dreams

I've been taking a course from the local fire department, called CERT - Community Emergency Response Team. This is a broadbased program designed to train the general public how to act when "the big one" hits - whatever that is. For Seattle, that would be the 12.9 earthquake that's been threatening the area for the last several hundred years.

One of the credos of CERT is "The greatest good for the greatest number of people", so some of the choices they teach are seemingly the anthithesis of what you might expect from the people who respond when you call 911. For example, don't waste time performing CPR. The logic behind this is that

• if it takes 5 days for an ambulance to arrive, you can't physically do it.
• if there are two rescue workers and 200 potential victims, you can't leave 199 of them stranded while you concentrate on one person.
• even if you spend just 1 minute with each person, it will take you FOUR HOURS to touch base with everyone. You simply don't have time to spare for time-consuming aid.
• if CERT people are engaged, it's because the crisis is severe enough that the REAL emergency responders can't handle the load. You may be all they've got as far as 'help' for days or even weeks.
• Rescuer safety is #1 - even more than the people you're trying to rescue.....because if YOU become a victim, who is left to help?

It's been a fascinating class, and we just finished week 7 of 8 tonight. We've gone over triage, light search & rescue, disaster psychology, disaster first aid, and fire extinguishers. Yes, we got to play with real fire, and fire extinguishers - that was my favorite part. We even had a practice night with pretend victims who were impaled with glass & screw drivers, amputated limbs, bloodied up, and even dead. Well, fake dead, of course. We didn't borrow anyone from the morgue. We just imported local school children and a makeup artist. Next week is the final, where we get to put all of our newfound knowledge to the test.

So is it any wonder I'm dreaming about this stuff?

In the dream, I'm a passenger on an airplane that has run into trouble. This probably came up from the two long discussion we had at work about the Mythbusters story over whether or not an airplane on a treadmill would take off if it reached lift speed. I still say no way, despite the fact that Mythbusters apparently made it work. It's not the speed but the wind under the wings that makes it take off, and just as you don't get a breeze when YOU'RE on a treadmill, why would the airplane?? It just doesn't make sense!!!

So anyway, there I was - one of a hundred and some people on an airplane when there was a jarring sensation - as if we hit something or there was an explosion under the plane. Whatever it was, it was enough that the oxygen masks came down, and most of the people did as they were supposed to, placing the masks on themselves first. But something was in the oxygen that instead made most people become unconscious.

The pilot opened the cockpit door, and fell down as if having a heart attack. The co-pilot was dead. (My dream didn't identify a cause of death - he just sort of didn't exist anymore in that dream logic that makes sense of nonsense). There were 7 of us who were still conscious and calm: Me, a flight attendant, a blind guy (and his dog), a little old lady, a doctor, a pregnant lady and an 8 year old boy. There were others who were awake, but not rational - either from panic or the oxygen masks.

Other than the Captain, there were two licensed pilots on board - the doctor and the 8 year old. Lovely. Here's where my CERT training kicked in. (yeah, right). The Captain & the pregnant lady needed the services of the doctor. The flight attendant acted as his nurse. The older lady herded all the younger ones to the back of the plane where she kept them occupied. The blind guy and his dog handled security, keeping the rest of the people calm & orderly. That left me and the kid to fly the plane.

So here I am, internally freaking, and outwardly calm, giving a report to the Air Traffic Controllers. We've got 7 green, 21 yellow, 2 black and 130 red. (Black means dead - I don't know who the other casualty was). However, most of the red would probably be green if they were conscious. Next, letting them know that I had never flown a plane before, and my co-pilot, while licensed on small aircraft, was somewhat underage. Meet Billy. Then asking if they have anyone handy who would be interested in giving me a free flying lession.....and if we could skip straight to "landing", that would be grand.

Billy and I talked for quite a while, basically turning it into a grand adventure so as to keep our minds off the freakish circumstances that caused us to be there. Just think when you go back to school, and they ask what you did on YOUR summer vacation. "I landed a 747" wins the coolest kid on the block contest for at least a week or two.

When it was all over, I hurled. I guess all that adrenaline had to go somewhere, but you'd think in a dream that could invent a circumstance where I've got an 8 year old copilot and a seeing eye dog as head of security, could give me a more graceful denouement.

--BT

What?! No!

I seem to be saying that a lot lately. People ask me questions, and I look at them like they are insane.

Recently I was on a date. This was a Date Zero (a meet & greet with a guy I'd met online) where we eat, chat & determine a) is this person psycho and b) do I ever want to see them again. Now, a Date Zero is NOT a first date. A first date comes AFTER you've met, and you've figured out that there is a modicum of attraction there, so before the first date is the time you met. It is an introduction. A how-do-you-do. If you met at a party, you wouldn't consider the party to be your first date. It's the same thing - the 'thing' that comes before the date. What comes before one? Zero, of course. So there you have it. I was on a date zero.

He was actually better looking in person than his picture implied, so that was a good start. Seemed a gentleman. Offered to pay for dinner. Did his homework on my profile, and even thought up a date extension or two if things went well. Conversation was fairly easy. We even shot a few games of pool. So far, so good.

Then came the crux move.

We were in his stomping grounds, and everyone there knew him. I'm certain he phrased it differently than this, something about going & listening to him sing. But this is what I heard - did I want to sit *alone* in a crowded bar surrounded by drunk people I don't know while he gets his groove on?

What?! No! That's not a date, and I'm not a groupie.

A week or two ago I was talking to a bank I do business with about getting a HELOC, or Home Equity Line of Credit. I have several things I'd like to take care of - new windows in my condo, have some zero percent balance transfers that will expire in 2009, and I might want to see about getting some reconstructive surgery done, or even purchase a new (to me) car.

Everything was going swimmingly until the end. Instead of 80% equity, they only wanted to go to 65%. The appraisel came back low and would only allow me to get $17k out, and for loans under $25k, they charged a VARIABLE interest rate higher than two of my credit cards. What?! No! I am not putting my house on the line for a WORSE interest rate than I can get via unsecured credit balances on Visa or Mastercard, and a *variable* rate at that. The point of a HELOC is that you're supposed to get a BETTER deal because it's secured.

So then there is the matter of my car. I bought this car four years ago, immediate post-Hurricane-Ivan in Florida. At the time, it was a great deal. It was my brother's fleet car, had reached its mileage limit to either be turned in or purchased, it had NOT just been through a hurricane (unlike every other car in the Gulf Coast region), and I could get it for $3500 under Blue Book value. It wasn't my ideal car - I prefer something a little smaller and sportier myself, but given the situation, it was a deal too good to pass up. At the time I bought it, I was able to pay cash, so I have had the enviable position of having "No Car Payments" for four years. I had planned back then to keep it for four or five years, and then look for something new.

Over the years, I have had some fairly substantial repairs done - perhaps invested $3-4k in it, between tires, brakes, water pump, heater core, yet even with all of that, the money has been well worth it. I've averaged about $75/mo over the four years I've had it, and that's not bad in lieu of a car payment. Fast forward to today.

Last Wednesday evening, I noticed the car giving me some issues as I would attempt to accelerate up a hill on the freeway. It was jerky, and I thought it might be transmission issues given that that would be when a car might attempt to downshift to gain power. Friday evening, the 'check engine' light came on, so I called the Ford dealer and made arrangements to take it in. Saturday morning, they call and give me the low down.

They wanted to replace the head gasket, and because of the way the engine is designed, that means replacing every other gasket in the engine as well. They wanted to replace the timing cover gasket, the water pump gasket, two fuel injectors, and take the heads off to be machined and/or replaced. Ball park estimate (and this could be LOW) was $2550 before taxes.

What?! No!

With 160,000 miles on it, the car is only worth about $1800. They could buy me a whole new car for that, and pocket $750. I called my brother to make sure that I wasn't ignoring good advice over sticker shock, and he agreed with me - the estimate seems *way* out of line. Why does all of that have to be done? What if I only do part of it? If the head gasket is blown, why don't I have milky oil, white smoke or black smoke? There are only three ways a gasket can blow, and it doesn't seem to be affecting any of them.

So I called them back, starting asking for details & writing down what they were saying. I rolled it over in my mind for a day, and decided to go pick up my car & take it somewhere else for a second opinion. I called my old mechanic, and went over what had gone wrong, and the diagnosis I had received. He agreed with me that it wouldn't be worth putting $2500 into the car, so if all of that was truly wrong, he'd let me know and not do anything.

He came back a couple of hours later, with a new diagnosis - one that actually addressed the symptoms I'd been having - and an estimate of $250. Now, he couldn't say for sure until he'd completed it that it would completely fix things, but he was fairly confident that it would. Sure enough, an hour later, the car was running fine.

So.....I called the dealership and asked for a manager in the service department. He'd already left for the day - did I want to talk to someone else in Service? No, but thank you. But I would like the manager's name so I know who to ask for when I call back tomorrow. I'll be asking for a refund.

I have a feeling their initial response will be "What?! No!", but I shall prevail. I have the old part in my car, and I can show them what was actually wrong. I'm not paying for a misdiagnosis, nor am I going to put up with fraud or incompetence from a supposed expert.

I've been frustrated all weekend long, and I finally feel relief. I think I'll go have some shrimp.

--BT

The Best Boyfriend I Never Had

Long ago and far, far away, back in the old BBS days, I was a member of a board called Chrysalis. In its heyday, it was a 64 line board that was *always* busy, with hundreds of active members that would redial for hours trying to get one line to free up. Unlike the anonymity of the Internet today, we all knew each other - in real life.

We had a weekly Lunch Bunch that met on Wednesdays. We had a regular group of 60+ that met at Denny's on Thursday nights, and anywhere from 20 to 100 of us would meet on the weekends at clubs, restaurants and bowling alleys across the Metroplex. We babysat each other's kids, girl-talked about the boys, gossiped about the girls, roasted newbies over an open fire and a number of people dated, mated and married amongst the Chrysalites. We even had t-shirts.

It was an odd time in my life - for about a year and a half, I was really popular. Everyone knew me. Everyone wanted to be where I was, wanted me to come to their parties, and hang out with me. And of course - they wanted to know everything about me. But I was (and am) a very private person, so I didn't talk online about who I was dating in real life.

One of the regulars was a guy named Kana, and rumor had it, we dated and were even engaged for three years. Rumor, however, was wrong. ;)

Around the time that we met, I had made the decision to move several thousand miles away. Life just wasn't working out for me there - I didn't like my job, had trouble with my roommates, my romantic life was going nowhere, and I just needed a new start. My brother lived on the West Coast, and after one vacation too many, he said "Why do you spend two weeks a year here and 50 weeks a year there, when you could do it the other way around?". So I decided to move.....but I needed time to save up, and prepare, so I actually gave my boss three months notice.

Kana was a good-looking guy, about my age, single, in good shape, great personality, olive skin, little bit of an accent, and all heart. He'd lived in Hawaii for a few years after getting out of the military, and opted to leave paradise for Texas, for reasons only he understood. He was single, but he had a policy - never get a new girlfriend until he'd paid off the credit cards from the last one. An admirable stance, to be sure.

That didn't stop him from flirting, however, and he was a popular guy at the weekly gettogethers. Ally and I often said, "I don't know who taught that boy how to hug, but someone should give her a medal". A good hug from him could last five minutes, and you just might want a cigarette afterwards. Whew! (fanning self)

It was not unusual for us to cuddle up in a booth, chattering and flirting away. He'd lean back into me, and I'd casually caress his arms or belly, enjoying the feel of taut muscles under smooth skin. So it's not surprising to me that people thought we were an item.

One Saturday afternoon, a girlfriend and I went shopping at one of the really ritzy malls in town. You have not been shopping until you've been shopping with Krystal. Holy Cow! That woman could get shopgirls running in six directions with a glance, and walk out not buying a THING. We perused furcoats, ostensibly for my mother who was taking a cruise to Alaska. We tried on $100/ounce makeup and $200/ounce perfume. Funny how the $500 shoes didn't quite fit right. Would have to think about those & come back. It was like playing dress up, only we were 28.

That night, Krystal, Kana, Ellen, me, Wynona, and a number of others were in a chatroom together. Ellen was home relaxing & grading homework. Kana had been out late late late on Friday night, so wanted to take it easy on Saturday. Wy had a bad crush on Kana, but he really wasn't interested in her - he just sidestepped the subject as often as possible to avoid hurting her feelings. We were talking about all the cool stuff that we had seen and done, and somehow the conversation turned to weddings.

Ellen talked about her previous marriage. Kana said he would love to get married on Black Diamond Drive in Hawaii, flying everyone in, spending at least $30,000 on the wedding. I was like, "Oh hell no! If there are more than 25 people there, I'm not entirely certain I'd show up!".

From that conversation, Wynona assumed that Kana and I were actually engaged - not just conversing about our ideal wedding scenario. We didn't plan it that way, but once we realized what was going on, we did not try to dissuade her from that notion. It served a purpose for us - it gave her a reason to back off, and leave Kana alone, and I didn't have to worry about meeting/dating anyone new, knowing that I was leaving the area.

He really was a great guy. When everyone else was saying, "Don't go! We'll miss you!", he was the only one who said "Go!". He understood why I had to go. He'd done it before, leaving Hawaii, and he knew it was what I needed. Had we met at a different place and time would we have dated? Perhaps. But for that moment, he was what I needed and vice versa.

And to think, I never saw him anywhere but Denny's. Who'd have thought?

--BT

Sadness Peels Away In Layers

It's over.   Perhaps it shouldn't have been, but it was entirely unexpected.....at least by me.    Sure, we had issues - doesn't everyone?   I didn't think they were enough to call it off, but apparently he did.  I'm practicing the words "He's a great guy - It just didn't work out" (which are true...they are just hard to say), and more hours go by in a row in which I'm fine.  Then I cry again.    

The first night I cried in his arms for hours.  By the time he left, I had left stains from tears and sobbing on his t-shirt.   We've talked a few times since then.   He said he felt like the bottom of his world dropped out.   The only thing he's sure of is that he isn't sure.   We intend to remain friends, but that's difficult right now when I still want him, and he doesn't know what he wants.     I don't want the relationship we had - that wasn't working for either of us, but I still think we could work it out, if he chose to go that way.

I want to talk to him, now that we have acknowledged the elephant in the room.  And I also want to go out & have fun (with him) so we can remember why we became friends and fell in love in the first place.  He's not opposed to that, but he's not ready for it either.

The first day after I let my boss know that I wasn't up to coming in and facing people.  My friend Cheryl babysat me during the day.  I set up my laptop at her house, and when I needed a break, she let me cry on her shoulder.  Afterwards, I went and spent the evening playing pool with my brother.  Oddly enough, Unbreak My Heart didn't phase me.   I even sang along.   But on the way home, I hear "Don't Think I Don't Think About It" and broke down again.  

Tomorrow is the full moon, and Expiration Friday.   I haven't spoken to him or IM'd him in days.   I promised myself that I would give both of us the space to figure this out, and so far I've managed to do that.   My sunburn from Sunday is healing, and my skin is starting to show signs that it will eventually peel away - little bits of life sloughed away, pieces of me I no longer need.

That's how it feels like my sadness is lifting.   I'm not as devastated as I was a week ago, but I'm certainly not ready to rush out and find someone new.    

--BT

Momentum

Putting things into motion is powerful - there's a lot of inertia to overcome, and once things get moving, they just want to keep going.   I've changed courses over the last few days.  After the excitement of the last weekend, I've discovered I know other people who are doing the same level of investing I'm interested in.

Instead of continuing the classes from the institution I met with over the weekend, I've found other sources of education, and information which I'm pursuing.  One allows me to practice my trading skills in a real environment with virtual money.  Of course, the profits are as virtual as the losses, but that's good news.  This will save me from some of the 'beginner'  mistakes I might make, and still allow me to test my theories in the real world.  

Another friend has already been through the courses, and is now teaching them.  He has materials he can make available to me at a fraction of the cost.  I like saving money as much as the next girl, so I'm all about that.  

I've also recently joined (and funded) a site called Prosper.com.  It's a micro-lending site which allows for real people to act as borrowers & lenders in real life loan situations - without needing vast amounts of cash to participate.  I just bid on 5 loans tonight, and put $50 towards each of them.  That's five people out there who are getting an opportunity because I (and several hundred strangers) took a chance on them.   What will I get in return?   Same thing a bank would get - three years worth of interest & principle on the money lended while helping people achieve their dreams.

I'm also looking at joining a group of real estate investors - people who want to join together to buy several pieces of property to share the profit & risk.    At any given time, one or two properties out of ten may be duds, one or two may be rock stars and the rest will just plod along normally.   If I own 100% one property - I've got a 20% chance that it's going to be a 100% dud - but if own 10% of ten properties, chances are 2 will be duds, 2 will be rock stars and six will be normal.    My duds & rock stars will balance out,and it improves my chances that my investment will come out at least average.    And once we identify the dogs, we can get rid of them.

My boyfriend once asked me (after seeing me reading a book about becoming wealthy) if I wanted to be rich.   My answer was YES!    Why?   Because there are so many things I want to be able to do.  I currently take 10% of my income, and put it into my Giveaway account.   Some of that goes to "official" charities, and sometimes, I see a need I can fill and I do.    

I recently bought 37 bags of dog food which were being clearanced out at the local grocery store.  As I loaded five carts up with anywhere from 15 to 50lbs bag of dog food, the people in line all smiled and asked me what kind of dogs I have.    Much to their surprise, the answer was "None".   "Uh....secret ingredient in your soup recipe??"   *laugh*  No -  I spent $360 (including tax) to buy two car loads of dog food because I knew that somewhere out there was a local charity that needed it, and this was a great deal!   They couldn't buy it for this price (it was worth over $1000).   

I wanted a local organization that might not have the funding or connections that a larger, nationally known charity would have.  So I google'd charity dogs Seattle.   That's how I found RescueEveryDog.Org.   They are a local Seattle organization dedicated to helping both dogs & cats, and helping to rescue them from situations where they might be euthanized or abandoned.

Another example - one of my friends was having surgery, and the process leading up to it was a paperwork nightmare.  By the time she was recovering, she was *really* stressed out.  She'd travelled over 1000 miles for surgery, and had an aunt who had come with her - but when her aunt's return ticket date came up, neither of them were ready for her to leave.    I was able to help with the costs of changing the return flight, which I was more than happy to do.  Do I get a tax deduction?  No, of course not - that's not why I do it.  The love and support of family is so important, especially in a time of need - you can't put a price on that.    Her aunt gave up much more than I did, because she was able to be there personally for her.  

But if this is what I can do with what I currently make - what more could I do if I increased my financial position ten-fold or a hundred-fold?    Yes, there are things I want for myself.  I'd like to be able to travel more, to work when I choose instead of when I have to.  I'd like to be able to buy more books.  I want reconstructive surgery to finish the task I started in 2005 when I underwent weight loss surgery.   I want another little sports car like the one I used to have.  I love having a cleaning lady!   It's such a stress reliever to know that my home will be a lovely place to be, and I don't have to scrub toilets or floors.   I want money in the bank - waiting for opportunities, protecting me against unexpected events.   

Do I want to be rich?  Hell yeah.    Nothing wrong with that either.   One day I'll get there.  It's only a matter of time.  

--BT

Anticipation

The part of anticipation that is cool is the excitement; the uncool part is the waiting. And right now, I'm waiting. Waiting for Monday. Waiting for my classes to start. Waiting for the chance to start putting my training into practice. Waiting for my boyfriend to return. (He just left day before yesterday for ten days, so I have plenty of time to practice that one.)

I just finished up a three day training class on investing and signed up for two more years, and I can't WAIT to put it into practice. I was up until 4:30 in the morning yesterday reading, reviewing, researching, and checking out the information we'd been learning. At the end of the class, our homework was to NOT read, review, look at, think about, any of the things we'd been learning for the rest of the weekend.

ARgh!!! Do you know how hard that is?

My parking was paid up 'til 11pm, and yesterday was a GORGEOUS day in Seattle - 86 degrees, clear blue skies, no precipitation, and a Saturday. Perfectamundo! At lunch, I sat out on the granite wall with my peanut butter, banana & granny smith apple sandwich and caught a few rays. That ought to up my vitamin D for a day or so.

The class ended early - about 4pm - and I called my brother to come into the city and do something with me. We met up at Von's (a great restaurant across from Pacific Place) - open air, good company, herb-roasted chicken for me, bbq chicken for him, and a cocktail. Perfect! Afterwards, we went to see Ironman in DLP. Love that about Pacific Place. And I didn't have to pay for parking again, because I left my car at the hotel.

By the time I got home around 10pm though, I was wiped out. I'd been up all day on less than four hours of sleep. Now - I'm restless. I want to do things, but I don't know what. My house is clean (thanks to my cleaning lady), but I could do laundry. But it's another beautiful day - not quite as warm as yesterday, but still clear. I could go ride my motorcycle. Or go out to Port Townsend to visit Laura. Or just stay home and do nothing - which is actually somewhat appealing. (Normally I hate doing nothing).

I do have to go to work at some point today, and set up my office. We moved over the weekend, and everything I use at work is in a box - including my plants. But I feel that sense of quickening, anticipation, of conflict. Work is not where I want to be. I want to sleep in, and I want to go for a walk. I want to stay home, and I want to go out. I'd like to sit around and read, and I want to go for a ride. I need to do laundry, but I'd rather take a nap. I really should wash my hair. Yet I'm here, writing instead.

I think I'll start there. How about you?

Define Free Time

So I was at dinner the other night with my boyfriend, and at one point in the conversation, I said "When are you going to have some free time?".   "Define free time", he replied.    So I did - "Sex!"    The look on his face was priceless.   He laughed and blushed and we laughed some more, for about 10-15 minutes before he gave me an answer.  ;)  And no, I'm not telling you when.

I'm not quite sure who was more startled though - my boyfriend, or the guy sitting at the table behind us.   Apparently my exclamation wasn't quite as quiet as usual.    But damn - he's been working a lot of hours, we've both been sick for most of the month of March, and much of the free time we *do* get is bits and pieces here and there - a bike ride, meeting up at Best Buy, lunch, or occasionally longer excursions that involve other people - his brother, my brother, his sister, friends, etc.   I enjoy the friendship side of our relationship, don't get me wrong - but sometimes, it's just not enough.

There's a song by a local Seattle songwriter, Amy Roberts, that I love - it has a great line in it "let's have a conversation skin to skin".   That's what I've been missing - the interaction of love that's more than just a kiss.   (Apparently he has, too, as he was lamenting later that he'd promised to work overtime that night.) 

Let the conversation begin!

--BT

The Big Climb 2008

It may seem a little crazy, but today I climbed to the top of one of the tallest skyscrapers in Seattle.....on purpose. *laugh* It was a charity event for the Leukemia & Lymphoma

Society,called The Big Climb - 69 flights of stairs, a total of 1,311 steps to fight blood cancers. I didn't think I was going to make it, but I did!

For the last several weeks, I have been down sick with a cold/flu thing that has been kicking my butt, so I haven't had any opportunity to prepare for this. I almost didn't go. I thought my start time was at noon, and I almost didn't wake up in time. When I did finally get up, and get moving, I was trying to figure out how to reach them to let them know I couldn't make it.

Then I decided to at least go down there, and talk to them. I have people who have sponsored me, and while I'm sure they would understand, I'd like to at least check in, turn over the sponsorship funds, etc. My start time got moved to 2 o'clock (and later 2:30pm), so I had time. By the time I got downtown, I was actually feeling pretty decent. I thought about asking whether I could just do part of it, and then bail when I couldn't handle it anymore. It probably would have been fine; I'm sure I could have taken off at any of the water stations if I needed to.

Downtown Seattle always makes me crazy when I'm driving. The directions I had took me in the wrong direction. I ended up totally lost, however, I'm headed to the tallest building in Seattle, so despite the lack of good directions, it wasn't hard to spot my destination. It's just a matter of getting there, given the number of one-way streets around. I finally located it, and got directions to the parking garage (which long way around turned out to be across the street).

Check in was on the 1st floor, which is 3 floors down from ground level. There were tons of people there.

Over 5,000 people were scheduled to climb today - with start times ranging from 8:30am to 3:15pm. Due to some mix-ups on the list, I ended up in the 2:30pm group, which was fine with me. Got my t-shirt, and goodie bag. Checked my stuff at the Bag Check so I didn't have to cart it up the stairwell, and got in line.

At the last minute, I ran back to the Bagel stand and grabbed a little something for the road. *laugh* In a nice orderly procession, much to my amusement, they led us up the escalators to the ground floor. We're here to climb sixty-nine flights of stairs, and they're taking us up an escalator? Irony.

They led the participants in front of a sign, took our photographs, and then staged each climber about 5 seconds apart. By the time I reached the first step, it was about 2:34pm. I had done some practice in the past on the stair climber, and thought I would do fairly well for the first 20 floors or so, as that's about how long I had been working out.

It seemed a reasonable hypothesus......however inaccurate it turned out to be. After three or four floors, I was ready to die. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I had to stop to rest. I bit into the bagel, thankful for an excuse to stop. Three floors? Oh my god. Only sixty-six to go. What have I gotten myself into? I finally caught my breath, and made it up a few more floors. Again I rested, and watched the parade of climbers behind me pass me by. Fifth floor, eighth floor, twelfth floor - I was the only one who seemed to need a break. Another bite of bagel to pass the time.

Agile young teenagers bounded past me two steps at a time, their lithe bodies in motion seemed a blur and in a second or two they were gone. I leaned against the wall, 

and made a mental note about the sign that said there was an emergency intercom every fifth floor. Somewhere around the 20th floor, I hit the first water station. They were out of cups. She offered to squirt the water in my mouth, but ended up giving me a bath instead. By then, I was alone. All the members of my group had long since passed, and the next group hadn't reached me yet.

Oddly enough, my legs didn't ache at all. I felt no body pain at all - other than my heart pounding in my chest. I can remember being 250 lbs, barely able to climb two flights of stairs without hearing my knees creaking. If I could just catch my breath, I'd be fine. I stopped for a minute or two here and there, and then kept going. The rest of the water stations had cups, for which I was grateful.

Along the way were little signs, factoids about cancer and the climb. The oldest participant was 83 years old. Over 5,000 people were registered to climb today. Of those, 52% were women and 48% were men. The average age was early 30's. (32, I believe). The number of people making it to the five year mark after treatment has tripled in the last ten years. That's truly remarkable. I've known a number of people who've had cancer, and most were not so lucky. But most of those were a long time ago, so it's great to see that progress has been made.

And then at 2:52pm, I reached a big bold, sign in all caps that read "HALF-WAY POINT". Hallelujah! Somehow I'd made 34 1/2 flights so far. I sent a text message to my boyfriend to celebrate! By then, 

I was being joined in the alcoves by other climbers needing a rest. Even the buff young athletes were moving slowly, dripping in sweat and reaching for that cup of water with relief. Of course - these were the ones from the 2:45pm group who'd made it up 34 1/2 flights of stairs in SEVEN MINUTES.

God what I wouldn't give to be young again, full of energy, with a body that could do whatever I asked of it. What am I saying? I never had that. When I was their age, I was able to walk and bike, but running or climbing stairs would have been out of the question. I'm thankful to have the ability now though, even if it does take me eighteen minutes instead of seven. By the time I reached the last water station, I was in a pattern - two flights, rest, two flights rest. I didn't need much time - just enough to get some oxygen before I started again.

Then the count down began - ten more flights, nine, eight, seven - I could feel my lungs expanding trying to take in more air so I wouldn't have to stop. "We Are The Champions" by Queen began echoing down the stairwell, and I could tell I was close. One flight shy of the top, I stopped and had my picture taken. And then I made it. As people exited the stairs, others who'd already made it cheered and a picture was snapped of the moment when we crossed the finish line.

The top of the tower doesn't have much - it's mostly an exterior hallway leading to the broadcast room for the traffic control room. These are the people who keep track of where the accidents are, what's causing slow downs, and why you should take I-90 today instead of 520. Lining the hall were many tired and happy people, leaning on the windows, parked against the walls, perched on table tops, walking restlessly around, sipping water and taking photos. 

Two stairwells were in use today - one for climbers like me, and another for racers who were being timed. I ran into them accidentally while looking for the bathroom. A big trashbin of cut bracelets was leaning against a wall, and a group of people with a bell were there to greet people as they emerged - tap the timer to complete their race, cut the bracelet and congratulate them. The fastest racer had done it in seven minutes. That's ten floors a minute!

A week ago, Firefighters from around the country met here to do the same climb, in full gear. There were 1100 men and a hundred women that day. One of our homeboys from Redmond won last week with a time just under twelve minutes. If I'm ever in a burning skyscraper, I want it to be in Redmond!! (Except - I don't think there ARE any skyscrapers in Redmond. I think the tallest building I've seen there is maybe 6 flights.)

While I'll never be able to match those kind of times, it was a feat for me to even attempt something like this, and I'm happy I did it. They ask each participant to raise $150, and I think I've got about $350 so far. Donations are due by April 4th, so I have a little time to collect it. If you're interested in sponsoring me as well, let me know - I can send you the link to my page.

Wonder if I'll still be able to do things like this when *I* am 83? I hope so!

--BT

Am I Going To Commit Murder Between Now & Monday?

Not your typical Tarot question, but it was one I asked Friday night. (The Tarot said "no" btw - Phew!)

I have a friend who came into town Friday afternoon.....and by Friday night, I was ready to kill her. Ever had a relationship that frustrates you to no end, yet you're bonded in a way that is deeper than like or dislike? We've known each other for twenty-seven years, and while we're not involved in each others daily lives, the history is there, holding a steady course under the currents up above.

I used to call her parents Mom & Dad, and often walked right in the backdoor like I lived there. She knew my brother, and both of my parents - all of whom are dead now. She remembers when I used to sing, and has a strange rivalry with me over brains and money. We get along, most of the time, and sometimes? *sigh*

She once told her roommate that I was coming, and then said "Don't judge her by me". She and the roommate weren't getting along, and she wanted her to meet me without prejudice. Cynthia and I got along very well - she was warm, motherly and worried about my friend. We talked for a number of hours, right out of the gate.

I spend most of my time with people who are/were suffering from an illness, and working hard to overcome it. That illness, obesity, has many children that come with it - diabetes, heart disease, high blood pressure and more. I know most of those people through a website dedicated to weight loss surgery, and they are in all stages of health. Some of them are post-op four or five years, and some are still fighting insurance for a chance to live. Health is something we live and breathe.

So it is rare for me to spend concentrated time with someone who is actively self-destructive. She talks about retiring when she's 60, but I could easily see her dying before then. She once was an alcoholic, which she gave up years ago. She surrounds herself with people in crisis, and is actively involved in their daily dramas. The bankruptcy should fall off her record in the next three to four years, yet she still talks about credit as if it's free. She makes more money than I do, yet I've owned two homes, paid cash for my car, and am putting thousands of dollars into my 401k, and she has $500 to her name.

Today she told me that she quit smoking about six months ago, which I'm both happy and surprised about. Apparently she has COPD, a lung disease which is both incurable and unstoppable. Today she has difficulty breathing. By the time she is sixty, she'll have emphesema. The only solution they've offered her is to lose weight, yet she considers dieting too much trouble. I would NEVER recommend WLS to her, because she simply can't comprehend the consequences of inaction. If she neglects her health as is, she may live another twenty years. Given the same surgery that saved my life, she'd probably be dead in five. Neglect would no longer be benign.

How do you help someone like this?

As much as she frustrates me, I don't need to kill her. She's doing an admirable job of killing herself, one day at a time. I bang my head against the wall in silent agony, seeing the potential that is wasted, and she doesn't get it. What good am I to her or her to me?

She is one of my memory-keepers - the people who remember me from way back when. That is of value to me. But what am I to her? I have no idea - but no matter how brutal I am to her, how honestly I share my frustrations, she can't wait to come visit me no matter where I live - Seattle, Florida, Texas, Kansas - no state is too far or inconvenient. So she must get something out of it.

Her flight leaves Tuesday night, and she's checking into a hotel on Monday...to watch tv. Yes, I'm one of those preternatural aliens who *gasp* doesn't own a television or subscribe to cable, and it's worth $130 to her to catch up on soap operas - the fabled lives of people who don't exist. She just spent seven days on a train and doesn't read, and hasn't seen a show in over a week. I haven't watched television on a regular basis in almost twenty years. (Although truth be told, I do enjoy CSI and try to catch an episode here and there at my brothers and one of my favorite hotel luxuries is staying up until 4am at the Beau Rivage watching reruns of the X-Files.)

Despite all of that, we had fun today. And probably will tomorrow.

I'm still counting the hours.

--BT

A Steady and Constant Heartbeat

Driving is a form of meditation in motion - the rhythmic movement between the lines, waves of light and sound drift passed in a steady and constant heartbeat. Energy is on the move, and I feel the pulse of life reverberating off my skin. I had a really interesting day, and just couldn't go straight home. I took the long way to enjoy the quickening and peace that come from the road.

I've been reading a lot lately, mainly books I had started and never finished. Yesterday I was engrossed in a new one called The Thirteenth Tale, and read until after 3am. I awoke full of energy and verve, my skin radiating heat, my passions awakened. I'm usually cold and 'not a morning person' doesn't begin to describe it. Was it the return to literature or the ferrous gluconate I've been taking?

My doctor's nurse called me this morning with the results of some labs I've had recently - apparently I reacted poorly to the glucose tolerance test, but my D3 is really good. Now I need an iron tolerance test because my recent labs indicated I have no stores left.....thus the ferrous gluconate. At the DS support group meeting tonight, I inquired about whether hypoglycemia is a known side effect of the DS. The answer I got indicated that there is something that is seen with RNY patients, and it *could* be in the DS population as well - there just haven't been enough cases for it to come to the attention of the researchers.

I also learned late tonight that a DS'er named Kelly K passed away this morning. She was a sweet and interesting woman - knowing that she was at risk for complications, she went into it at peace. Still she could not have imagined the last six months of daily battles she would fight with septic shock, infection after infection, and the ever-present attendance of the man she loved. They had ten good years together, but it's never enough when you're faced with the reality of what 'til death do us part' really means.

My own love confessed this morning that he's been secretly concerned about the potential of pregnancy, which manifested in an odd form of abstinance I only now understand - this despite our use of birth control. I recognize the base of fear isn't really about babies, birth control, or our future together - it's about stability and mitigating risks. He's preparing to take a huge leap into the void, wanting to buy a house, and that's one little duckling that could throw the whole row off track. It's a big decision - where you live is such an important foundation for the life you live within its walls.

I went to a house concert tonight, which was held in a gorgeous location. The house itself had a great open floorplan, simply classic lines with light and air and space in abundance. Walking inside I felt as if I could breathe a little deeper. Even before they took the stage, a quiet vibration of harmony echoed down the hall, up the stairs, stretching out the multitude of windows towards the city lights. I want to live in a house that feels like that.

The music has ended, but certain notes and images linger on. I still feel that steady and constant heartbeat underneath my skin.

--BT

Loose Ends

I do not know how to slack. Jesus. Procrastinate? THAT I'm really good at, but I tend to do it by getting busy at something else. I've been varying degrees of sick since a week ago Monday. Many of those days all I have had the energy to do is drink a glass of water and go back to bed. I slept 17 hours on Friday, 15 hours on Saturday. I think I've gotten at least an extra 30 hours of sleep this week.

I spent four hours at the doctor's office yesterday for them to shrug their shoulders and say "you're ill". Uhm, yeah, I knew that - thanks. Seems I have pneumonia, so they took X-rays, gave me a breathing treatment, gave me antibiotics, which *have* helped, although I'm still more sick than well.

However, each day there has been a few hours in which the planets aligned, and I had the right combination of food, water, drugs, rest and sunshine so that I actually felt all right. Not great, but okay. During those times, knowing how fleeting they were, I have strived to get things done.

Over the last week, I made it to Costco, to the DS Support Group meeting, introduced my brother to my bf's brother (job opportunity), finally got some pears from Harry & David, and got my software program back online (which involved organizing five people to move a server into a secured area, get it back online & bring the program up - that took DAYS). Sorted mail, organized some filing, finished two books that had been partially read for over a year, and did a PILE of dishes. And I'm annoyed that I don't have the energy to finish the laundry tonight.

This morning I laid on the couch, fully intending to stay there all day, and got up after about fifteen minutes because I was bored. I even logged into email and did some stuff for work.

And then the hands of the clock move like a guillotine, and my energy comes to a dead stop. Plonk! I just want to face plant into a feather pillow and forget the world exists.

My bf is actually going to have Friday night off.....the first in many months, and we're both hoping that we feel well enough to do something besides take a nap together. We laughed at that - what an exciting couple we've become. We're practicing how to be old married people.

There's just too much to do for me to enjoy doing nothing. Everywhere I look there are things to do - I want to live in France. I want to take dance lessons. I want to organize my kitchen. I want to get better at playing the piano. I have unused vouchers for tickets on Continental Airlines. My carpet needs to be vacuumed. The trash needs to go out. I have email to answer, and research to do. I have a presentation on Friday, and have things I *should* have done this week for work - but I didn't have enough neurons firing to do them.

How can I slack when I have French Flash cards, a cat, and a bookcase full of books beckoning me?

I think it's time for another nap.

Clean House

I don't know how anyone ever keeps a clean house. It seems like "clean" is a state that lasts for about two microseconds, and then quickly degrades back to "lived in".

It seems like I spend hours going through things, putting away things, finding places for small treasures, and redoing the same chores over and over and over again - dishes, laundry, countertops, taking trash & recycling out. Last weekend, I cleaned the bathroom top to bottom, and mopped all the floors. Took out two loads of trash, cooked, cleaned and sorted until 3am. You'd think at some point I would get ahead....even if only for a minute.

My kitchen counter is a magnet for the avant garde of miscellani. Two hugging bear salt & pepper shakers, a 'so ugly it's cute' old japanese cream & sugar holder gilded, painted, and shaped like birds. Two cups I bought in Mexico, an old magnetic poetry calendar, the 80 proof remains of a bottle of sherry - shaped like an elephant no less. The dining room table is the same - though less artistic, and more practical. Pens, paper, things I've sold on ebay, coupons, books.

I emptied a box tonight which has been on my bedroom floor since I moved in. Mostly French books/notes and photographs. I cleaned out my wallet. I sorted out items to be mended & altered. More laundry - two loads down, one to go.

Tomorrow, it's errands. I have:

Rite Aid/Bartell's/Office Depot: CDR's (they all have sales on them)
Linens & Things/Bed, Bath & Beyond: Bath Pillow & Mesh Laundry Bag
Super Supplements: Calcium Citrate
Target: Broiler Pan
Costco: Shredded Cheese, Cheese Slices, OatMeal for a co-worker, and Premier Protein drinks if they have them (they haven't the last half dozen trips)
Tailor: Mending & Alterations
1/2 Price Books: Trade in Books/VHS Tapes
Mail HSA Paperwork
Drycleaner: Quilt
Work: Get the 2 frozen meals I left behind before the cleaning crew throws them away

Oh, and in my copious spare time, a chiropractor appointment.

How do you people do all this AND raise kids? Or work two jobs? Or spend time with *anyone*? For that matter, how do you even have time to watch TV?

I'm going to bed. Perhaps the magic "errand" fairy will stop by tonight and cross everything off my To Do list. Well, I can dream, can't I??

--BT

That Didn't Go As Planned

I'm in that lull, the letdown after the holidays. I ended up spending several hours on a mind-numbingly boring task this afternoon. I'm alone today - tried to reach my best friend who is supposed to be back in town, but no answer. I haven't talked to my bf since I kissed him goodbye this morning on the way to work. That's not unusual, he works a lot - but I've been seriously missing him lately.....and one day of his company only serves to me make miss him more.

We had a brief but serious talk last night....one of those mood killer 'we need to talk' conversations, and despite the fact that things did need to get said, I was bummed that our evening went that direction. We had a good four hours to spend together, and instead of launching into a wonderful evening of love and romance, we sat quietly on the couch holding each other while I tried to keep from crying.

Then today I reached a friend who has been trying to reach me for most of the last day and a half. She's coming into town over President's Weekend.....a weekend I already plan to be out of town. I told her "of all the weekends....". I told her what my plans are, and oddly enough, she's all excited to come with! Now I certainly don't mind friends joining me that weekend - in fact, I've invited people to join me almost every year that I've gone. But still, I couldn't believe it - of all the people I know, she's the LAST person I would have thought to invite.

This perhaps explains how and why I invited an alcoholic on a wine-tasting tour. *wince*

Seriously. That didn't go as planned.

(She's recovered & sober over ten years, and she loves the beauty of the wine country.....plus she's offered to be designated driver. )