Shopping and mushrooms

I'm a tactical shopper. I make a list, either on paper or in my head, of what I want and need and go from there. A browser I am not. Oh, I can drop money like it's on fire but I'd rather just get the shopping over with.

Amazon, Torrid, eBags, eBay, Retro Diva, the Mighty Barnacle -- all of these online stores have been repositories for large sums of my money. Online shopping is so easy, so convenient, so dangerous. I haven't gone hog-wild in quite some time but I've taken steps to dissuade myself from spending too much. When it came time to renew my $79/year, free 2-day shipping on Amazon, I let it go. I stopped looking at Torrid and ebay. I go to my closet and look at the ever-growing pile o' shoes before I hit the Retro Diva site.

Yesterday I went physical shopping. Strolled down Telegraph and hit half a dozen shops. It was actually fun, especially considering that I'm a tactical sort. The company excellent, the weather was fabulous so it made for a good time.

The icing on the cake was having dinner with my spear sister, The Cassie, and her young'n, Sierra. Cassie was the one who got me hooked on Sweet Tomatoes so of course I dragged them there. The best part of the evening was watching Sierra put an entire slice into her four year old mouth, knowing it was the only way to score an ice cream for dessert. Instead of taking a bite, chewing, swallowing and repeating she crammed the whole thing in there. Watching her gag, pressing her fingers over her mouth to keep from spitting it out, seeing the expressions of horror and disgust flit over her face -- all of it was priceless. I wish I had a video of the event because it was some good entertainment. Once that low point had passed (eating the single slice of mushroom), Sierra was buoyant with energy because she survived an awful thing AND got ice cream. She was literally bouncing when we hit the mall after dinner. I love my family!

Today is Day One of travel this week. San Diego, look out.

a way to display the goods

Posture.

I've always been a reader. I learned to read around 4 or 5 and I gobbled up books as though they were candy-coated. I read all the Nancy Drews, Hardy Boys, Black Stallions, Trixie Beldens, Bobbsey Twins, Saddle Clubs, Babysitter Clubs, everything on the suggested list based upon my grade. I devoured.

Back in 1989, my family and I moved to a rather large dairy out in the boonies in Modesto off of Dos Rios Lane. What a great street name. We had this one couch -- it was navy and covered in a very soft material. My folks had suspended a light with a rope chain from the ceiling directly over the couch. It was the best reading spot ever. I'd stuff a couch pillow behind my head and shoulders and read for hours upon hours upon hours. And the location was especially great for running around the house in giddiness. Like the time Frank Hardy finally kissed Nancy Drew. I threw the book down, screamed and ran around the house. It was fantastic.

So my back is a bit jacked up from time to time. Which leads to posture. That hunched posture I started some twenty years ago didn't exactly help me in the long run. In April I decided to do some adult things. Like get my blood pressure under control, lose some weight and fix my back and shoulder.

During the last few days before I left Thailand, I must have stepped or swam wrong and had really nasty sciatic pain down my left leg. I'm horrible about taking medicine so I decided to go see this chiropractor who had done wonders for Heather. I met with Monique for three hours. During this time, the bone whisperer emphasized just how important posture is to my well-being. "Just thrust out your chest. You got the goods, might as well show 'em off." Once I started improving my posture, my back achiness diminished.

I could talk about posturing but that is something totally different.

Peaceful day

I had a really delightful weekend. On so many levels. I spent early Saturday afternoon with Monique, my bone whisper aka chiropractor. She lives in the Richmond district and I had never been to that part of the city before. What a gorgeous area! From her rooftop, I was able to see the ocean and Baker Beach. It was such a lovely day. She made my coat for me in no time flat and showed me her awesome art work (as seen at buy-motil.etsy.com). I had a good time. I drove down Park Presidio until I hit 280. Despite living in the bay area for some 6 years, I’ve never driven on 280. I was enthralled with the lay of the land and the gorgeous scenery. Upon seeing a sign for a vista point, I took the exit and walked around a bit.

Made my way to Sunnyvale where I chilled for a bit before meeting up with some friends. I had a really nice evening with them. Then Pete took me out for a drive in his Subaru WRX and we drove through the Palo Alto Hills before hitting Skyline. It was exhilarating and intense. I had a blast. We grabbed some chairs and sat in the backyard talking for at least an hour while watching the night sky. I saw two shooting stars! Totally stoked because I can’t ever recall seeing even one before! Usually other people see them, exclaim and point, and by the time my eyes move to that area in the sky, it’s long gone. ‘Twas really spiffy.

I don’t relax well or often. I’m going to somewhat blame that on the fact that I’m the oldest child in my family. Whether intended or not, I’ve always carried a good burden of responsibility on my shoulders. I’m a planner, an organizer extraordinaire. Enjoying the drive for simply what it was and taking the time to huddle under a blanket as I gazed into the darkened yet sparkly sky was very restful. It’s good to be at peace.

Ready...set...thimble!!

Why do I take on these projects that I know nothing about? Why? What drives my insanity? So, I need a cool jacket on the playa, right? I have several but I want something warm yet fashionable. I take a friend's advice and go buy two yards of fabric. Soft, furry, brown-black fabric. And two yards of throw-away material and a pattern.

Have I ever mentioned that I don't sew? I know how to thread a needle and do this one and only kind of sewing method that is very plain Jane. I think I have a couple reels (what's the damn word??) of thread and a package of needles somewhere. Two of my friends have sewing machines. But fuck if I know how to use them. I shall persevere!

My bone whisperer was one of the founders of Dark Garden Corsetry and she's offered to help me out. How freaking awesome is that? Yay for friends with skills. I'm always happy to put an IV in or throw an NG tube down in exchange for some sewing help. I can also do chest compressions and other CPR duties in exchange for assistance. What can I say -- I'm rad like that.

Travel OD

I'm soon to overdose on travel. I'm so excited!! Never in my 29 years of living and breathing have I ever traveled as many places as I have this year. And in less than two weeks I'll embark on my second largest vacation in Rachel history. The first being the mega Aussie/Kiwi trip of 2004.

I really want to go back to Australia someday. Don't know when because there are so many other locations to visit first but someday. I'll go back to the Barossa Valley, Cairns, Melbourne and actually make it to the outback.

Before all that can take place, I need to follow through with my San Diego/Vegas/Black Rock City/Costa Rica plan. Since I woke up at an ungodly hour this afternoon (two hours before my alarm went off) I've been quite industrious. Talked to Bishcuit about our plans and emailed the fuck out of all the hostels were considering staying the night at. Way to go, over-achiever.

I just love planning for trips, even the packing part of it all. My LP guide for Costa Rica is littered with sticky notes and I've made several lists of things to buy, pack, etc. Makes me feel soooo good. Yes, I am a sick puppy. But I'm okay with that.

Everything you ever...

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog is so fucking fantastic. I've been listening to the songs all day as I drove from Livermore to Salida. Everything You Ever makes me want to weep -- it's that poignant and beautiful. Joss Whedon is a mastermind of the story that tears you down and builds you up. If you haven't seen the Sing-Along yet, what are you waiting for??

I'm going to Burning Man this year. It was a last minute decision. Ok, last minute for ME. I know I'm special and plan things out to the hilt. Just can't help it. Lists just make me feel good. Speaks to my organizational brain parts. I'm pretty much set for the playa. Grabbed stuff from Paul's house today and learned how to set up his rad Thermos tent. Yes, a Thermos tent. Hit Wal-mart and the Bass Pro shop in Manteca. Never had been to the Bass Pro -- bloody huge. At the end of the day, after BBQing with loads of family, I stopped at the 'rents and got my own playa supplies from the previous Burning Man times. Now to go through it all and organize. Goody!

I'm going to roadtrip to Reno this Friday with my cousin Mary. We're dropping my shit off there and then turning back around to head home. I really can't take all my crap with me as I go to San Diego and Vegas before the playa time.

Saturday night I hit up the Damask Boudoir in Oakland at the Metro. Very goth/bohemian fashion show. Shockingly, Edsel backed out of his flakage and actually attended the event with me. I haven't had good hang-out time with the man since March. I saw some lovely clothes, a great drag show, family and the worst accordian player of all time. Social Entropy headed up the event. Good jorb, as Coach Z would say.

Time to organize dust-covered stuff. Huzzah!

These are a few of my favorite things...

I have a shopping problem of sorts. It could be worse; it could be better. I have the money to spend but I tend to go overboard...a tad.

For example, Frederick's had a sale on this one style of panties. Love the panties. Love 'em. So I bought half a dozen. Or maybe 8. I know it wasn't more than 10.

When I like a brand or company, I tend to like them fiercely. It doesn't have to be the latest or greatest stuff. The item just has to call to me.

I've loved Jansport backpacks for years. I own probably 8-10 of their packs. I'm a huge Skechers fan. For comfort - not the name. I own many Skechers. I've also been on an OPI kick. Best nail polish I've encountered. The names like Never Enough Shoes, Kinky in Helsinki and Bastille My Heart are only a small slice of the awesome pie. MAC make-up is just the bee's knees.

My problem is that these brands tempt me much more than just plain ol' nail polish, shoes, etc. I tend to break, give in and make purchases when I should save my moola for all the travel I want to do.

Is it really so bad a problem? Nah. I just have guilt because when I was small money was an issue at times and I learned to be cautious with what I bought or asked for. I'm nearly 30 - perhaps I should start feeling less guilty. Or...maybe more. Ha.
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Look good, feel good

Growing up I was ever the tomboy. I lived on a dairy for five years and during that time, I climbed trees, camped out in the almond orchards, got dirty, built shit, tore shit down and had a grand time of it.

When I entered my teens, my concept of make-up was that horrible pastel-esque blue eyeshadow and very pink blush. I shied away from that. From all of that actually. My mom rarely wears make-up -- now and back then. Never had any interest learning how to apply it.

Then at age 27, something changed. I had known my friend and co-worker Jackie for a few years. We worked in Tracy together and she helped me get the job in Oakland. She had a MAC party. I remember thinking, "What the hell is MAC?" So I forked over my money and went. I had one of the lovely employees at the Berkeley store do my make-up and wah la. I didn't go overboard. I waited a year for that. But I was intrigued.

Jackie taught me about the "look good, feel good" concept. Even if you're feeling like shit, if you take care of yourself, if you look good, you will indeed start feeling better. It's so very true. I still do a piss-poor job of putting on make-up most of the time. But with my make-up savvy sister helping me, I'm doing better.

For example, tonight I'm feeling tired. But my make-up rocks. It helps me perk up a bit. I bet that soy peppermint mocha that I left in Hilary's car would have perked me too. Damn and blast! I want caffeine.

Stupid people and their healthcare choices

I never realized how foolish people generally are with regard to their health care. It's fucking ridiculous! I've been a nurse for 8 years. Spent about 5 years doing med/surg and yes, you get your brunt of the stupids. Been doing ICU for 3.5 years and same story. But since transferring to ER two months ago, I've encountered such asswipes that I'm in near-constant amazement.

People who have major illnesses just can't seem to remember what their disease is called. People two take two dozen different meds don't have a list either in their wallet or at home. Folks will come in complaining about a fever but they haven't taken any tylenol or motrin to resolve the problem.

It's so damn frustrating. Short blog but I have extended frustration. Sleep is the answer.

FB vs FWB

Some people have questioned whether or not there is a difference between fuck buddies and friends with benefits. Hell yes, there is a difference. I've talked about it recently with a few of my friends.

So with a fuck buddy, you do just that: fuck. Pure and simple. You enter into whatever abode, room, dwelling where the dirty, sweaty, fantastic deed will occur. Pleasantries are exchanged, clothing is thrown aside and the caresses begin. Once the fucking is done, more pleasantries are exchanged, perhaps even arranging the next meet 'n screw. Each person knows the other's name, basic interests (usually limited to sexual in nature) and a few other tidbits.

FWBs have fuck buddy qualities surely but it's so much more a thing than that of the FB. The very name! Friend. Someone who enjoy hanging out with, who knows you and you know them. A person you're attracted to and want to get pelvic with but you can also catch a movie together, discuss a good book, hang out at a party without feeling compelled to go at it like bunnies every few minutes. Ok, you may indeed feel compelled for wild hot lovin' all the time but you have more in common than coitus. And hopefully if the physical part draws to an end for whatever reason, the friendship will remain and stand alone.

Depending on what you're in the mood for or in search of, sometimes a FB is preferable to a FWB. So there's my spiel.

Change -- and no, not nickles, dimes or pennies

2009 has been full of such odds things.

Divorce being final.
Demise and birth of close friendships.
Found the best roommate I could ever hope for...but he's never ever around.
Mom was hospitalized.
I've shot the shit and drank some booze with my pops.
Had 10 gauge barbells pierced through each nip.
Traveled here, there and everywhere it seems. OD'd on travel actually.
Have been on an O.P.I. binge -- I'm Not Really a Waitress and Black Cherry Chutney are the best.
Learned that I do like tomatoes...sometimes...and usually on a sandwich.
Reconnected with an old friend when I seriously doubted it would ever happen.
Disowned a sibling.
Transferred to a position in the ER.

I thrive on change, or perhaps, newness. Or at least I tell myself that I do. As soon as I feel like I'm sinking into that all-too-familiar rut, I have to fuck something up so I'm out and rolling. Dying my hair pink (initially done 12.20.08) was one of those shake up moves. A lot of my change coincides with hair decisions. In January 2005, I had my head shaved. In the fucking winter. Right before I left on holiday for Italy. It snowed in Venice while I was there, on my birthday. Hadn't snowed in 10 years but it did that day for me, for baldy Rachel. Three and a half weeks ago, Heather added blue-black to my Special Effects Atomic Pink. What change did that herald, I wonder. Thank god for hindsight else I may never know why I do some of the things I do.

Positive occult blood

What a bizarre title. But it was the matriarchal news of the day. My mom's been in the hospital since Wednesday. She's received 2 units of PRBCs, IV KCl and Mg replacement and IV venofer. In 12 hours or so, she's going to have a colonoscopy. Part of the preparation for the test is to clean the intestines. She's drinking this awful shit called GoLytely. It's a misnomer if ever there was one.

When a doctor orders OB x 3, they want you to check 3 different stool samples for occult blood, that is, blood in the stool. It's not always visible nor does it always smell that special way that only bloody stool can smell. Um, in case you happen upon this and are a bit freaked out, I'm a nurse. This stuff is all common practice and knowledge for us nurse peeps.

All three of my madre's samples turned out positive. She's bleeding from something, evidenced also by her low hemoglobin (8.2) and thus requirement of 2 units of PRBCs. I'm here in Florida on vacation visiting with my friends from Port Orange and Hollywood but I'm so worried about my mom and her medical situation that I'd much much much rather be home. So I could dictate her care. Ok, maybe that's too strong a word. But definitely manage her care. I'm sure the gastroenterologist will be able to find the source of her bleed but if I was there, he would be able to discuss it at length with me rather than my non-medical-background father. Sigh.

I almost wish I had a xanax to pop. Sleep is not my friend tonight but worry is my bedfellow. Alas.

Rallying my resources

I received a message from my madre yesterday. She was being admitted into the hospital. On Monday, she'd been feeling pretty ill and weak. The next day it was worse and she contacted her MD who had her get some lab work done. Then yesterday afternoon she went in to see the PA. Her WBCs were 17 and the mag and sodium were low. The doc opted to admit her.

As soon as I heard the news, I called the floor where she was to be admitted and asked for a private room. You see, I work there. And right now I'm in Florida so I have to pull strings from afar. Then I called my co-worker Jackie who moonlights as nursing supervisor there and asked her to check in on my mom. I texted my roomie and asked him to stop by and see her sometime today to find out if she's alright. I put some info up on facebook and got a lot of people wishing her well and such.

Even though I'm 3,000 miles away, I still take care of my mom. She's a good cookie and has been through so fucking much the past year, medically speaking. Getting a private room and having my nurse buddies check in on her is the least I can do.

Musical shit

I was driving back home yesterday afternoon after running a few errands in Livermore. Just prior to pulling into my garage, the DJ on Live 105 announced a new song from The Fray. Hell if I know what songs The Fray sings/plays. This time, however, they decided to do their own version of Kanye West's Heartless.

WTF? Really? Some covers are good but this was sad. And beside that, Heartless is still relatively new. Far recently covered Pony and that was fucking rad. Methinks The Fray latched onto their idea but failed miserably.

Give me something new, fresh and refreshing. Shit. I am all about Spoon right now.

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The quiet boy

Most of the time, when a child sees me at work, they know they're likely in store for some uncomfortable thing, some painful thing. Tonight a little boy was in with pneumonia. Poor thing. He was wheezy and dyspneic and putting up a strong front. I gave him stickers for his bravery and a coloring book to distract.

While only six years old, little boy X was very impressive. He was so well-behaved. Obeyed his parents, was polite and sweet. The lab tech had to draw some blood: he didn't throw a fit or scream. I had to give him an intramuscular injection. He flinted but didn't make a peep. Not because he was so lethargic but due to the fact that his parents were both there, supporting him, loving him. It was pretty rad.

It's rare to find well-behaved kids in general, let alone when they're sick in the ER. He was my highlight this past shift.

Starter

I tend to ramble about so many ideas, thoughts and concepts that I decided I should blog. Whatever better way to keep track of such things than placing them in one contained area. I'm all about storage containers anyway.

I have a decently sized drawer in my kitchen filled with Tupperware and knock-off brands that I rarely use. But I have it if I need it. I have tons of Rubbermaid bins that I've used for moving. They're currently stacked on my balcony, dust covering their lovely purple color. I have bins for shoes, clothes, purses, you name it.

I've heard that there's a place called The Container Store. Ok, I know without a doubt there is one because I'd drive by it back in the day when I'd hang out in Walnut Creek. (Shudder) I drooled a bit at the site of such a place. But I can be a smart cookie when I want to be. I stayed the fuck away from that place lest all my paycheck(s) go to their coffers.

So this blogspot business is free for me and I can keep my ramblings in a bin. Awesome-sauce!