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40 days…

LENT has arrived!

Forty days meditating and fasting in the wilderness left HIM hungry. The Not so Nice One turned hunger into opportunity and tried to tempt and persuade on three occasions. Each temptation met rejection. Each persuasion met rejection.

Every year at this time within churches around the world, this passage from the Gospels is read and discussed. This year while figuring out what Lent means to me and how I plan to celebrate, three words, Contemplation, Action and Resolve have settled into mi alma and are now my personal goals for LENT.  Supposedly,  LENT represents doing without or giving up, a sacrifice of some kind, but it also represents a chance to deepen our faith, study scriptures, discuss, argue, about our faith, our church, goals and most importantly acknowledging spirituality within and amongst each other.

Contemplation-Meditating on scriptures, mindfulness and fasting (no alcohol, fish on Fridays)

Action-to give more of what I can which is volunteering and to put into practice the Four Agreements

Resolve– what was experienced after 40 days, what stays, what goes…    

 

 

 

 

 

***Photo taken from internet

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On turning the big…

A major milestone birthday passed.

So major was this day that the words ‘anti-wrinkling cream’ and ‘Oil of Olay’ are now part of my vocabulary. ‘Life Style Lift’ would gladly join the ranks but plastic surgery costs let alone the thought of going under anesthesia with the scalpel standing by is-well- I’ll leave those three words by the curbside.

The milestone birthday…

Of course reaching this birthday is in itself a milestone. I feel fortunate, lucky and grateful, for many do not have the opportunity to live this long. Although celebration is in order, reaching this birthday also stirs the pot of regrets, disappointments and failure.

Yes, midlife does come with a price tag.

It serves as a thermometer to the highs and lows of life’s accomplishments or lack of. I guess the most important thing at this point in ones’ life is to concentrate on the GOOD, ignore the UGLY and pretend the BAD does not exist.

For me the GOOD is where the gratefulness and gratitude flourish:

-Finding out what I really want to do work-wise instead of sitting in my rocking chair later in life regretting not finding it
-Having a warm bed to sleep in at night with the security and comfort of two mini schnauzers and a tabby by my side
-Not going to bed hungry, having a roof over my head and not waking up to hunger out in the streets of NYC
-Being an Anglican-Episcopalian/ Roman Catholic/ Wanna be Buddhist –surprisingly it does work, just don’t let the Anglican/Episcopalian priest know about the Buddhism and don’t mention the Anglican/Episcopalian stuff to the RC priest

For me the BAD is where reflection comes into play:

-Not understanding or caring to understand the sometimes-psychotic nature of the interim priest at my Anglican-Episcopalian church
-My home living conditions-sometimes finding what one wants to do work-wise requires great sacrifices such as sharing a living space
-Not making enough money to buy that bread maker or take a trip to Germany or better yet BUY A GRAND PIANO!
-Feeling completely helpless in dealing with life’s drama
-Wanting to have five dogs and six cats but lacking the space or resources or better yet money for therapy to figure out where the desire to have that many animals comes from

“Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on…”

For me the UGLY is where regrets linger and ferment:

-Not owning the condominium I so longed to purchase when the funds were secure and growing
-Leaving California
-The What if’s, Should haves, Could haves that refuse to go away and just die
-The why the hell did you allow this to happen scenarios and now you have no recourse dramas
-The, Why did I marry? Sorry M.
-The years lost spending time being angry with my dad, Noel before our reconciliation

“One of the happiest moments ever is when you find the courage to let go of what you can’t change…”

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2013 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2013 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 1,900 times in 2013. If it were a cable car, it would take about 32 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

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This lil lite of mine…

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine…

All of us love to shine our little lights. It gives us a sense of purpose to have the part of us, we so cherish and feel so worthy to own shine forth and if it is acknowledged by a boss or co-worker, lover, family, dog, cat… the happy, I am worthy dance commences.

The ‘little light’ which shines from each of us, consists of show-casing our talents, what we do so well, and how it benefits others, even if you have the ’Shining’ Stephen King wrote about.

Musicians, artist, dog trainers, cleaners, designers, and the burger king cook who makes an awesome whopper-all shine on! We feel proud when given the chance to demonstrate our talents no matter how mundane they may seem to everyday society.

There are those who shine their lights graciously with a tad of humble pie  and others, well, the shine on their lights is above the normal kilowatt viewing and often leave halos around the eyes for days after a 2 second exposure.  Different strokes for different folks and yes, those that shine a tad too much are dangerously akin to non-verbal BULLHORNS!

At my job, the job I transitioned to and absolutely adore, little lights are constantly shining, glowing, fading, extinguishing and reigniting with a bang. The tech’s and doctors all have their little lights, special talents which, set them apart from everyone else and acknowledgement of these talents can turn a person’s partential bad day into a good.

So tomorrow, when I go in for my shift, I will acknowledge the “little light” shining from a co-worker and bring a smile to their face which in turn will make me smile.

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I will not eat what I examine…

The owner and DVM of the practice where I work eloquently stated those words prior to a surgical procedure and of course, it got me thinking…later…at home after a glass of wine.

The clinic is a small animal practice, and in my five months of working there I have assisted in the treatment and examination of dogs, cats, hamsters, and a rat. So yes, I would have to agree with him in not eating those animals.

But…

Pigs, cows, sheep, veal, chicken, fish, pork chops, spare ribs, hamburger, meatloaf, fried chicken, baked chicken, salmon, catfish, trout-Oh My.

I tried to be a vegetarian- it fell through less than a week.

A vegan once used the scare tactics of describing the butchering process of cows and the toxins and hormones released once the animal knows death is approaching.

Mind you, he decided to have this conversation with me as I chomped on a well-done burger with tomatoes and lettuce.

I listened, nodded my head and continued to consume my burger.

An interim pastor at our church stated she would not consume animals or fish with eyes.

Okay.

Off with the head!!!

As much as I adore animals of every kind, except mosquitos, becoming a vegetarian is not in my future.

I will cut down drastically on my consumption of meat and try to purchase only organic. If there was a way to know how animals are butchered, I would research and locate the facility with the least traumatic and inhuman method and purchase products from that company.

Until then, even though I know, Meat is Murder I will continue to eat it.

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It’s been a long time…Part 2

It’s been a long time…

Since I swam endless laps in a deep-water pool.
Feeling the cool water massage my muscles as I swim backstroke, breaststroke and struggled through a front crawl. Gliding, swishing, breathing, in rhythm as the strokes are counted on a water resistant watch.

It’s been a long time…

Since I laughed until I cried.
Laughing away at some ridiculous joke or a comedy on HBO such as ‘Me, Myself and Irene’. Laughing till the stomach muscles tighten, taken by surprised at the sudden outburst of muscle spasm.

It’s been a long time…

Since I’ve been in love.
The kind of love that’s reckless, and fills the soul with puffy pink butterflies oozing with cotton candy, like the kind you tried for the first time as a kid.

It’s been a long time…

Since, I cried a good cry.
Actually, no, today I did, as I prepared Pucchi for his trip to the crematorium.
Pucchi, a maltese mix and client at the clinic had undergone 12 months of chemo and succumb to his cancer early this morning. I was there five months ago to meet him during my initial interview for the position I hold now and participated in his chemo treatment numerous times. His owner was heartbroken, as I was, but now Pucchi runs free of treatments on the other side of the rainbow bridge.

It’s been a long time…

Since I had a vacation.
Not the vacation the masses flock to but a vacation that is stimulating, active and engaging and requires allot more effort than lounging on the beach baking to look like a lobster, steamed and floating in butter.

It’s been a long time…

Since, I sat on the couch.
Reading, from my Kindle in the sunlight, all afternoon, listening to classical music on the radio and slowly sipping a glass of cabernet chased down with Godiva chocolates.

It’s been a long time…

Since, I fell asleep to the sounds of crickets chirping.
Under a star lit sky, where you could actually see each individual star, quiet, sleepy, cool night, no ac, no humidifier, silent, sleepy, sleep.

It’s been a long time…

Since, I had Pho.
Vietnamese Pho.
The kind of Pho you get in San Francisco, during a day when the fog takes a little longer than usual to lift away towards oblivion. The Pho served with shrimp and noodles, spicy, hot, comforting, warming like a serious hug,  uplifting. The Pho you can’t get in NYC.

It’s been a long time…

Since, I wore hot pants and platform heels.
Actually, let it remain, a long, long, long, long time I attempt to wear such a pairing again.
No, wait.
If I live to 90, let it be my celebration.
Ninety years old, posing in hot pants and platform shoes!!

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Rolling, Rolling, Rolling…

It is now two months into my career transition from an Administrative Assistant to that of a Veterinary Technician Assistant.

The transition was subtle and quiet.

My former job was mundane and my interest waned. I arrived at my new job on day two and was tossed into ‘trial by fire’ for on that day the boss had me deal with cat/dog restraints, surgeries, and filling chemo prescriptions. I survived and did not faint or throw up during the surgery.

The cat restraints look like this:

I complained at one time of sitting too much at the former job-now I stand for eight hours a shift. I eat lunch standing, I fill prescriptions standing, I assist with surgery standing…I stand.

I complained at one time of being disturbed during my one hour lunch break. Now, there are no lunch hour breaks, no five-minute break, no eating my bagel before starting the day’s work. No break.

I complained about the mundane repetitive duties. Now, some duties are repetitive but the clients and animals always present a new experience.

I complained about boredom and no room for growth. I now give medical injections and express the bladder of the resident kitty, who cannot do so on her own, as well as walking and cleaning up after dog boarders and medical boarders while simultaneously running the washer and dryer and cleaning up cat litter trays…this stops here.

Am I unhappy with the transition? No. Do I miss my other job? No. Have I thought about my other job? No.

After a shift, I return home pumped with adrenaline from the day’s work and it takes a while for it to dissipate. I do not come home stressed out or angry. I do not go to work stressed out and angry.

My former job:

The sound of work at my current job:

I like my current job.

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Free At Last…Part 1

July 31, 2o13

After two- years working as an Admin Assistant at a MICA women’s’ shelter in downtown Brooklyn, (far from my ‘hood but going through the same gentrification which destroyed mine)..I am now FREE!

Free to pursue my interest…school and working as a Vet Tech Assistant

Free of an unhealthy environment…I no longer inhale crack cocaine, cigarettes or marijuana on a 40 hour five days a week basis

Free of verbal and abusive violence…some from the clients, most from the staff

Free of all medical and dental benefits…now is not the time to need an appendectomy

Free of a mediocre salary…now I earn enough to qualify for the status of “below the poverty line”

Free of working with others my age…we will not go there just yet, still adjusting…

As of now, I work one day a week with fill in days at a neighbourhood veterinary practice. The practice is housed in a four-story limestone building across from Prospect Park, Brooklyn, New York, and a twenty-minute walk from my house. images[1]

The owner of the practice responded to my resume posted to a vet tech employment site. He called to schedule an interview two days after receiving it and I met him one day later, 6:30pm on a Friday evening. The interview was five minutes with a twenty-minute tour of the facility. I shadowed one day a week, (no pay) for about a month and officially hired August 1.

This was my third interview for a vet tech position, older in age than most entering a new field and thankfully this one came through! The owner was impressed with my cover letter, which, states where I come from-job wise and where I would like to go -passion wise. And yes, he is older than me, which I am sure helped in the hiring decision.

I’ve learned cat and dog restraint, how to feed a finicky chinchilla medicine and most importantly dodging lethal attacks from the in house resident rescue Chihuahua who has a thing for people of colour (he was found tied to a hydrant with his bed and it is possible he was abused by a person of colour, hence his desire to attack anyone darker than an office manila folder).20130804_151201

I also learned quite a bit on laboratory testing, administering meds with a pill popper and vaccines as well as aseptic techniques and medical jargon…this can go on but it stops here.

I assisted in an abdominal exploratory surgery. The poor doggie swallowed a rubber ball and only half was expelled. The rest? Found in his intestines, which were blazing red from the intrusion. I survived the procedure, did not faint and was able to monitor his pulse, blood pressure, and anesthesia and still eat sausage later in the week.

This experience is an exciting change from sitting behind a desk in an uncomfortable chair pushing papers and each day of work brings the opportunity to learn something new.
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