Closing doors, opening windows

It’s nearly the end of the year and, I must say, I’m rather looking forward to 2008.

I can’t say I’m sad to see 2007 go. It hasn’t been the nicest year. But, despite the hardships of the last 12 months, there have been blessings mixed in there as well.

This year saw the passing of Cassandra, my beloved rabbit and furry companion for five years. As saddened as I was by her death, Rebecca and I welcomed Slim Jim and Teyla into our home.

The house had some issues in 2007. There was the gas leak back in February — the one that I caught only because I was doing laundry at two o’clock in the morning after a day-long "Lord of the Rings" marathon. There was the ticking-time bomb otherwise known as my water heater which, fortunately, was able to be fixed by friends. And, of course, there was the break-in. We don’t need to rehash the suckiness that was the violation of my home and the loss of my iBook but I can’t ignore the good that eventually came out of the ordeal.

Hedwig had her share of difficulties. My faithful Ford sedan has had a lot of (relatively costly) work done since last January. She had some original parts, that apparently aren’t meant to last more than 100,000 miles, replaced as well as a few few odd items like new brakes, tires, coolant reservoir and oxygen sensors. The good news is that most of this routine stuff that most cars experience should be caught up now and we won’t need anything for a while again.

As we say goodbye to 2007 in a couple of hours, I’m looking forward to 2008 and the wonders it will bring. I have high hopes for the coming year, full of promise and possibility and opportunity.

Miss Communication

Communication is, really, the most important tool we have at our disposal. Proper and thorough communication, in my opinion, would lessen almost all of the world’s ills.

Get that look off your face. I’m serious.

The simplest things can be blown completely out of proportion when we don’t communicate well. Accidents happen when people don’t communicate their intention through proper use of turn signals. Feelings are hurt from misinterpreted comments. Ailments go untreated when the patient can’t describe their symptoms or the physician doesn’t take the time to listen. E-mail, one of my favorite modes of communication, often leads to misread intentions because you can’t see or hear the entire message from reading words on the screen. Or, sometimes, communication can be completely misinterpreted or ignored.

Years ago, one of my roommates picked on me because I always informed her when I was going out, where I was going and how long I was going to be gone. This, to me, was a common courtesy in case she or someone else wanted or need to know where I was. She, apparently, was annoyed and made the comment that she wasn’t my mother. Not only did she hurt my feelings by negating my efforts to communicate with her but she also missed a chance to share in the effort.

Something that goes along with communication, or the occasional miscommunication, is forgiveness. Okay, sure, somewhere along the line someone got something wrong or forgot to tell someone something but that doesn’t mean we need to hold a grudge about it. It’s come. It’s gone. It’s time to move on. Hard feelings aren’t going to make communication in the future any easier. If you really have an issue, communicate with the appropriate individual so you can move on with your relationship.

Ouf.

And that, my friends, was the sound of me falling off my soap box. Considering the multiple disagreements I’ve had with gravity lately, maybe I shouldn’t stand so high off the ground.

My, what big ears you have

Slim Jim

Teyla

I was playing with my new vacuum this evening (again with the lameness, I know) and pondered an interesting thought.

Of my two rabbits, whose hearing is the more sensitive?

My assumption has been that Teyla’s sense of hearing is the greater as her ears are several times bigger than Slim Jim’s. Since I wanted to use the vacuum on Teyla the English Lop’s cage, I was concerned about making sure she left the room while I did it. Being the nosey bunny that she is, Teyla didn’t stay gone long and came back and hopped into her cage while I was working, apparently nonplussed by the loud noise of the vacuum.

Heartened by this, I decided to then vacuum the hay and fur from the lounge chair in the rabbits’ room. As I did this I kept an eye on Teyla to make sure she was still doing alright — only to then discover that Slim Jim was the one being driven crazy by the noise. Poor Slim Jamison. His erect Mini Rex ears, while smaller than Teyla’s, must be more difficult for him because they’re stuck open and he can’t really control what he hears. I’m still convinced Teyla’s ears are more senstive (she’s the one that freaks out in the middle of the night to noises Slim Jim, Rebecca and I can’t hear) but I think Slim Jim has the disadvantage of not being able to shield himself from the noises around him. As I rock out to loud music most of the time I’ll have to be mindful of this in the future. The good new is that he, like Cassandra before him, seems to enjoy my taste in music. You’ll perhaps recall that Cassie was a big fan of System of a Down’s first album and liked to sit in front of the subwoofer during certain tracks.

Silly wabbits.

“Getting to Know You” — Christmas Style

I got one of those fun forwards today where you answer questions about yourself (my favorite topic, by the way) and, since I’m pretty bored because my sister is going to her in-laws and I’m left to my own devices for a while, I figured I’d just do another Web log post with it. And, since I’m long-winded, there’s some actual meat to all my answers.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Wrapping presents is my favorite part of the season of giving. I like to buy the nice stuff from Hallmark because then I can curl strips of the wrap into matching ribbon for embellishing the gift just a bit further. I’m not sure why I enjoy the presentation of the gift so much. From as far back as my older brother can remember my mom has been recycling old wrapping paper (if you tear it, you don’t get to keep your present Christmas morning) and my sister insists on using newspaper because it can be recycled afterward.

2. Tree — Real or Artificial?
Gosh. I’d love to have a real tree and I’m fortunate that my parents’ still get a real one every year. The one at my house is artificial which works for me because I’m still a bit paranoid about the potential fire hazard. Maybe one of these days I can rely on my husband to help me keep an eye on it but, for now, the cat and I can’t be trusted.

3. When do you put the Christmas tree up?
If I could get away with it, the day after Halloween. But, since there’s no way I would hear the end of that, I like to do it a week or two before Thanksgiving. And not just the tree — all the Christmas decorations. And, no, not just because most of the holiday decor has my name on it.

4. When do you take the tree down?
Mid-January. I love my tree and I like to enjoy it’s light as long as possible.

5. Like egg nog?
I’m not a huge fan but I usually enjoy at least one glass every year. It’s just part of the holiday season.

6. Do you have a nativity scene?
I do not have a nativity scene myself but my mother has several. The baby Jesus doesn’t show up until Christmas morning.

7. Favorite gift received as a child?
Samantha, An American Girl doll. I had asked for her for Christmas for three years and it only took major surgery (an appendectomy) to finally get her.

8. Hardest person to buy for?
My mother — she never wants anything but she did give birth to you so you feel more than a little compelled to still find the perfect gift.

9. Easiest person to buy for?
My sister is usually pretty easy to buy for. I’m always so excited about whatever I got her, though, that she usually gets it long before Christmas.

10. Worst Christmas gift?
I can’t think of a “worst” gift but, somehow, a few years ago it became tradition for my mother to get me something creepy. This gift is usually second-hand from Goodwill or a yard sale or some such source. I don’t know if she is purposefully looking for the creepiest gift she can find but it just ends up that way. One year it was a doll much like Samantha with the eyes that open and close. This doll was creepy because of the way it was jammed into a box that was much too small — and still had the $2 Goodwill tag on it.

11. Mail or email a Christmas card?
Again with the Hallmark mentality but I send out my Christmas cards by mail at the beginning of December. I know it’s better to give than to receive — and that’s how I usually feel about gifts — but I really wish I got more cards in return.

12. Favorite Christmas movie?
“The Night They Saved Christmas” with Jacqueline Smith is probably my all-time favorite Christmas movie. I’m also a big fan of “The Santa Clause” franchise.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?
I actually stock-pile gifts all year long but still end up doing the brunt of my shopping in mid-December.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
I’m not opposed but I’ve never done it.

15. Favorite food to eat on Christmas?
My dad gets quality steaks and cooks them up for Christmas dinner and that excites me to no end.

16. Clear or colored tree lights?
Either is fine with me but if you’re going to mix them up try to be tasteful about it.

17. Favorite Christmas Song?
The Chipmunks singing “Here We Come A-Caroling.”

18. Travel during Christmas or Stay home?
I travel to my parents’ house. That’s sort of like home, right?

19. Can you name Santa’s reindeer?
Yes, I can. Will I? Sure. Blitzen, Chet, Comet, Cupid, Dancer, Dasher, Donner, Prancer, Rudolph and Vixen.

20. Angel or Star on tree top?
I want a star for the top of my tree but I’ve yet to find one that I like.

21. Open presents on Christmas Eve or morning?
Christmas morning!!

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year?
I can’t really think of anything particularly annoying. I truly believe that it is the most wonderful time of the year.

You are getting very sleepy

It's a holiday miracle. I just got eleven hours of sleep. More importantly, I got four of those hours by sleeping past my body's usual wake-up time of 6:00 a.m. As uncomfortably as I tend to sleep while staying at my parents’ house (my back, as expected, is killing me) I at least usually sleep pretty hard because, frankly, my sister Gina tends to exhaust me. She's a very go-go-go person and always wants to be doing something, which is something I happen to admire.

Of course, what I really admire about Gina is that she can sleep anywhere and at any time. It’s probably because she never lets herself sleep so when her body thinks it’s got at least a chance of getting some shut eye it just shuts down. I wish I could sleep in the car, on the couch, in the movie theater, at work — okay, she’s never fallen asleep at work. I have, actually, but it was after I had my wisdom teeth removed and it was their own fault for making me come in so soon and still on drugs.

But I digress.

I have to wonder if the reason I’m such a high-strung and oft-cranky individual (according to everyone else, at least) is because I never seem to get enough sleep and I’m constantly jealous of those who can. Even when I’m in a perfectly comfortable bed I can’t fall asleep without the comforting white noise of my beloved box fan (a nice miniature one that travels with me). What kind of raw deal is that?

I'm sure my inability to sleep usually stems from the hyperactivity of my brain. It’s just always going. The worst part is that it’s connected to my mouth and I end up talking too much and, usually, about inappropriate things. What no one seems to realize is that I actually have a pretty heavy-duty filter in place because what I say is only a fraction of what I think. And how scary is that?

Oh, look. I’m digressing again. Surprise, surprise.

Anyway. I’m quite pleased that despite my sister making gifts in her “workshop” last night, my father’s 5:30 shower, my mom shoveling at 8:00 and Gina’s rabbit making a ruckus every couple of hours, I got eleven hours of sleep. I just don’t know what to do with such a well-rested self.

Back Outta Whack

It turns out I got a little more out of my tumble down the stairs than a new collection of bruises on my leg.

Yep. I went ahead and hurt my back. Again. Pretty badly, in fact, if the daily trips to the chiropractor are any indication. Don’t get me wrong, I love my chiropractors, but the necessity of seeing them every day is a real pain in the neck.

And shoulder.

And lower back.

And I’ve got a headache.

And my hip’s been acting up a bit.

See what I mean?

The pain I’m in is my own gosh-darn fault. I probably should have known bouncing down the steps wasn’t good for my back (not to mention the other battered body parts) but didn’t really think anything of it at the time. By Tuesday I began having daily headaches that I blamed on either my TM-Jaw or the remaining vestiges of the cold that refused to go away. I went for my regular chiropractor manipulation on Friday — and then went back Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and tonight. It actually wasn’t until after my adjustment on Tuesday that I really began to think that my problems were probably from the staircase mishap and not from shoveling half a foot of snow from my drive and walkways.

You’d think after four spinal manipulations I’d be feeling almost right again but a) I really did a number on myself (which is something I’m known for) and b) this has not been a very good week for the care and keeping of Joy. Not only has it just been busy with the holiday season but work has been a bit on the crazy side and I’ve been very tensely sitting at my desk all week — a couple of hours later than I should have been most nights.

I have high hopes that work tomorrow won’t be nearly as distressful to my myriad sore bits (because, when my back’s out of whack, the rest follows) and, hopefully, I can spend some time relaxing this weekend and allow my body to repair itself from the damage inflicted. Of course, as discussed in previous posts, I have a hard time letting that lesson sink in: taking care of myself always ends up as such a low priority in the not-so-grand scheme of things and then I end up paying the price. As it is, I'm already in a considerable amount of pain just from sitting here on the couch (your back’s worst enemy according to one of my chiropractors) and writing this post to a Web log that no one reads.

Pet Peeve: Shopping Carts

My pet peeve isn’t against the shopping carts themselves. I love shopping carts. They serve an incredibly useful purpose — especially as I’ve got a bad back and wouldn’t have a very easy time of carrying my groceries all throughout the store by my lonesome.

So, as I said, I’ve got nothing against shopping carts.

It’s the people who leave the shopping carts wherever they please in the parking lot that bother me. No, bother’s too light of a word. Last night, as I tried pulling into a space for some late-night grocery shopping, I was beyond irritated by the shopping cart standing in the middle of the spot — when the cart corral was only two spaces away.

First of all, isn’t that one of those things we learn in kindergarten? To put our toys away when we’re done with them? That’s what I thought.

In my opinion, unless your legs are broken or there is a metal plate in your head is there any real reason not to push the shopping cart all of 20 feet — usually less — to the cart corral. And, really, even with either of those challenges it’s really not much to expect that you could still put the cart away.

Maybe it’s just because I tend to go above and beyond the call of common politeness when it comes to a great many things but, seriously, doesn’t anyone ever think about how their laziness is going to affect others?

Punky Bruise-ter

I bruise easily and quite often have mysterious bruises on various parts of my body that I assume are from the myriad of things I run into on a daily basis because I’m a bit of a nob and tend to run into stuff (furniture, walls, pets, etc.).

I bruise so much, in fact, that during a routine medical exam back in college my doctor started asking subtle questions about if I was still seeing my high school sweetheart, how things were going and the like — basically he wanted to know if my BF was the reason for the various bruises. As if. I only outweighed the boy by forty pounds — I totally could have taken him if I had to.

With all the bruises I acquire with no certain recollection of having gotten them, I’m always mildly excited when I do something and think to myself “that’s going to leave a mark!” Strange for such excitement, to be sure, but I, myself, am a little strange.

My most spectacular and rewarding bruise was from a tumble I took on the ice-covered steps in front of my apartment a couple of winters ago. For one thing, I rather wish someone had caught the actual fall on candid camera as it was rather impressive. My legs literally went out from under me and ended up above my head as I came back down to land solidly on my backside. I actually laid there for a few moments as all the air was forced from my lungs upon impact and I surveyed the extent of the damage to the rest of my body. The good news is that I didn’t damage anything I was going to need later but I did have a sore posterior for the rest of the day. The next morning, passing the hall mirror on my way to the shower, I was more than a little surprised — and a bit excited — by the bruise that encompassed a large percentage of my bum. This was a bruise worth writing home about. The size was impressive by itself — it was huge! — but the fact that the bruise was nearly black was enough to make me want to show it to anyone I could that decency would allow. Needless to say, based on the location of the bruise, this didn’t include a lot of people and I should probably feel at least a little ashamed for the few I did insist on mooning because I was compelled to share this most bodacious of bodily blemishes. I don’t, though.

For as excited as I was about that bruise, you can well imagine the disappointment from notable injuries that don’t bear the fruit of a at least mild skin discoloration. I thought this was the case from a slightly less remarkable tumble I took down my basement steps this past weekend. I was able to catch myself with the railing before I caused any permanent damage at the bottom of the stairs but I still took quite the beating as the combination of warm fuzzy socks, rushing and being slightly light-headed from a lingering cold forced me to skip a couple of steps on my way down to check the laundry. The good news is that, again, I didn’t break anything I might find useful later but the even better news is that I’ve finally developed a nice collection of bruises on my left leg — the one that got left at the top of the stairs while the rest of my raced for the bottom. Again, as no one was there to witness the spectacle that was my limbs heading in as many opposing directions at once as possible, at least I didn’t come away with nothing to show for it.

Rake me up before it snow-snows

Mid-Michigan was supposed to get hit with 2-4 inches of snow and freezing rain last night and, in preparation, I needed to get the last of the fallen leaves (which, I must say, took their sweet time falling) raked and bagged.

It was about 20 degrees when I began raking at eight o’clock Saturday morning and I have some observations to share about the whole experience.

First of all, being me and already cold, I was properly attired in long underwear, jeans, thermal sweater, turtleneck, hooded sweatshirt and insulated vest as well as two pairs of gloves, knit cap and wool socks. Even with all that it was a chilly start to the morning. The good news is once I started wrestling with the frozen ground to give up its goodies I got warm enough to peel off a couple of layers (and work up a pretty good [and less than attractive] sweat).

Since it was below freezing, there was a good deal of frost covering the leaves. In some ways, having the ground be frozen was actually kind of nice because it was like sweeping the newly-fallen leaves from nature’s hardened floor. But, of course, as the ground was frozen so were some of the leaves that had been sitting there a while and that made the job a bit more difficult.

When raking in sub-freezing weather, it’s important to treat your rake with care. Plastic becomes brittle in cold temperatures and if you become overzealous with the rake (as I did) you’ll end up braking a couple of its teeth off. The good news is that ACO Hardware — an establishment that has let me down repeatedly in the past — had rakes on sale and I was able to get a new one when I had to make a bag run. Despite all the raking done by the Superfriends, I ended up with twelve bags of leaves and debris.

As everyone knows, I need music. I drive to it. Dance to it (badly and in the comfort of my kitchen). Clean to it. Code to it. Sometimes, like Xander, I like the quiet but, for the most part, I need musical accompaniment to whatever I’m doing. Raking first thing in the morning demanded the use of my iPod. Though I was a bit worried about the cold temperature’s affect on the iPod, I was more frustrated by its affect on the earbuds. Or, really, my ears. As my ears got cold the earbuds refused to stay in place. So I’d be raking along, enjoying Drowning Pool or Rob Zombie (motivational yard work music), and then have one — if not both — of the earbuds fall out. Grrr. Argh. Then, obviously, I’d have to take off my gloves to readjust them only to have a repeat performance shortly thereafter.

The tempermental earbuds, broken rake and cold weather all contributed to a mounting frustration I was feeling as I rushed to finish raking so that I could make it to the chiropractor’s office before they closed at noon. And, naturally, I wanted enough time to shower before going to the chiropractor as I was, I’m sure, pretty gross from the morning’s endeavors. Much like the trigger for turning mild-mannered Bruce Banner into the Hulk, frustration leads to anger and I turn into into my father. Don’t get me wrong. My father is a wonderful man. I couldn’t really ask for a better dad but he does have a temper and it was his gift — the kind that keeps on giving — to me. So, much to my poor neighbor’s discomfort, I’m sure, there was much cussing and grumbling and, perhaps, a bit of yelling toward the end of my raking extravaganza. The verbal abuse dealt the yard waste bags, leaves, rake, earth and whoever else was in hearing distance was probably uncalled for and I do apologize.

The good news is that, despite the many cons of raking in sub-freezing temperatures, I was able to finish my raking and make it to the chiropractor. A challenge to be sure but that made the feeling of accomplishment all the better.