It’s Coming

The temperature is starting to drop and the breeze has more of an intention now.  I cannot see the cover of darkness that looms on the other side of the horizon, but it’s coming.  The birds are silent and I have developed a sixth sense about these things.

I once swam amongst a rainbow of wildlife on the Great Barrier Reef.  I didn’t notice when fish evacuated and there wasn’t even time to be frightened as the two-foot reef shark sauntered in as quickly as he sauntered out of sight.

The ignorance of impending disaster is much preferred to constantly bracing for it.  I wish I was blissfully unaware, like the time before the shark.

However, I have found the answer to the question of whether it is easier to lose someone suddenly or to watch them die. While the end has not come for my mom or S I will always be grateful that I had the time.

LOL Congress: Day 47

Today, a staff member for the state House of Representatives popped into my office (she’s also on the Board of Directors at work) and I asked to bend her ear about LOL Congress.

She suggested reaching out to my state senator to ask him to encourage my congressman to do something about ‘mental defectives.’

By the end of the conversation, she was on her way back to the Capitol to deliver the LOL Congress letter to a friend of hers in mental health in Representative W‘s district.

T minus fifteen days before Round Two of LOL Congress.  Learning that it’s all about who you know when it comes to getting things done that are outside of your control has been vital to my professional success. My guess is that it will be vital to the success of this campaign as well.

So Round Two will be all about the six degrees of separation and the twelve people I know who can help me reach the people who can get this done.

Wardrobe Malfunction

It’s been 34 days since the doctor put the kibosh on CrossFit because of the shoulder impingement (which still sounds like a big sally injury.)  Now, I know the pony keg that is my abdomen didn’t happen in those 34 days. No, I’ve merely become acutely aware of it in the last month.

There’s a wedding in two weeks for one of TB’s friends. I have a closet full of dresses that have been my go-to frocks for such occasions for the better part of a decade.  One favorite is a classic black,  v-neck that hits just above the knee.  The other fav is a silk magenta one-shoulder number. Both are forgiving and flattering and I can’t wear either right now.

That’s untrue. I shouldn’t wear either one. They have forgiven and flattered as much as their carefully stitched seams will allow. They tried to warn me with their gaping zippers, but I ignored their pleas and fought those zippers only to be mortified by my reflection.

What the HELL.

Thankfully, one of the second-string dresses will work. But more importantly, this has been a wake up call.

I hate shopping but if I don’t reign in this barrel chest and these voluptuous thighs, I’ll have to replace my entire wardrobe.   Did I mention that I loathe shopping??

Motivation comes in many individualized forms. For some people it’s health, for others it’s self-esteem. For this girl, it’s the mall.

I’ll gladly lose 10-15 lbs (too chicken to step on the scale) to avoid the mall.

New Hampshire

YES!!

New Hampshire. UHH.

NH

It took one year and fourteen days to see a license plate for every great state in this union in my metropolis.

Even if another candidate is selected to fill the position for which I interviewed yesterday, it may have been worth it just to finish my ‘thing’ with the sight of a New Hampshire license plate.

Humidity’s #1 Fan

Rasher, Mel, and I went to Arizona for a long weekend. Arizona? Not for me. But I’d go anywhere with these two.

besties

I love these two

we did a lot of this...

we did a lot of this…

...and this

…and this

after awhile these just looked like middle fingers

and after awhile these just looked like middle fingers

bliss in the backyard

bliss found in Rasher’s dad’s backyard

Lol Congress: Day 33

It’s been a 22-day dry spell, but I’ve heard from another one.

Dear xxxx,

I wanted to write and let you know that the Congressman received your letter, and he wanted me to respond personally.  Thank you pointing out the importance in the way which terms used to describe those who are mentally ill cause stigmas.  As you know, there have been different words used throughout history to describe different groups of people that are insensitive or inappropriate.  Hopefully, over time, all these terms will be removed from legislative statutes.

Best,
Liz

Legislative Assistant
Office of Congressman E

*eye roll*

In replying to this fluffy, stupid, brush-off email, I curtly asked if I should interpret this response on Congressman E’s behalf as disinterest and I’d be better served pursuing other avenues to get this accomplished. Her response:

xxxx,
Regardless of the work that the Congressman decides to do on this issue, I would be exploring as many avenues as possible.  I will be doing some research on the topic and then talking with him about it.  I’ll need a few weeks to do research.  I won’t know if it’s a topic he’ll want to pursue until I talk to him, but I do know that mental health issues are important to him.  Federal legislation takes quite some time to produce, introduce, etc.  For instance, I’ve been working on a bill since December that has yet to be introduced—it’s important to get it right.  I can be back in touch once I have had a chance to do research and talk with the Congressman.
Liz

It will be a pleasant surprise to hear from Congressman E’s office again.  In the interim, May 25 will mark two months allowed for my state and federal representatives to respond. At that time, I will pursue other avenues…whatever those may be.

PS There isn’t a business professional out there who wouldn’t get shit-canned if it took two months to respond to correspondence. *exasperated eye roll*

Horse Pill

When S called on Monday – the very day some sociopath bombed the Boston Marathon – to tell me the cancer had spread to her brain, I didn’t feel anything. Not numbness. Not upset. Not defeat. Nothing.

I’ve decided that’s because this news of a brain tumor is a horse pill.  It is one supersized pill too far. No matter how I try to swallow it, I can’t. I just keep spitting it out. It doesn’t matter what hopeful or devastating statistics it’s hidden in, it’s not going down. So I refuse.

S BrainThere’s no doubt a pinky-nail-sized tumor exists.  Yes, I see you cancer. But even though you are 1.5 inches deep into cerebral business in which you do not belong, I refuse to accept you.

Be it denial or instant acceptance, either way I’m fine with rejecting this brain tumor of a horse pill. I know that one day I will have to choke it down if the cancer wins, but for now and as long as I can, I refuse.

Lol Congress: Day 11

Eleven days ago, 16 letters were postmarked to 14 elected officials – from my representative to the President – and two local advocates to change the phrase ‘mental defectives’ in US law.

Today, the post office delivered the first two responses.

Representative W said in essence, ‘Dear fill-in-the-blank, thanks for your letter.  Since you’re not in my district, you’re not my problem. But here’s your representative’s address. Have a nice day.

photo 1

The first of the two advocates, Former Representative R, replied on a more personal level (but probably only because he knows who I am via TB, my brother-in-law, and a friend of mine.) ‘I wholeheartedly agree with you, but since I’m not in Congress anymore, I suggest you contact your current congresspeople.

photo 2

Erg. I knew I should have included a list of those I copied to avoid the inevitable ‘you should talk to so-and-so’ responses.

In sixth grade, I wrote to the first President Bush with a recycling initiative. Six months later, with generic response in hand, I learned that only the loud and unrelenting are heard.  I was small and meek at 12 years old.  Some things have changed in the twenty years between receiving a form letter from the White House and today. While still small, meek was a skin I shed in high school.

Fourteen responses to go.  All I need is one bite.

68 Hours of What?

im·pinge [im-pinj] verb, im·pinged
to encroach; infringe (usually followed by on  or upon  ): to impinge on another’s rights.

What impingement means to me is six weeks on the bench and physical therapy. There’s a whole mess of duct tape and dreams holding a shoulder together. In our society today, so much time is spent hunched over a keyboard that certain posturing muscles are neglected.

So, as it would be: Muscle negligence + CrossFit = Impingement.  At least in my case.

I’ve been advised to not even run because the arm swing could irritate good ol’ lefty.  At first I was happy to have the 4.5 hours back from my thrice-weekly CrossFitting.  But then I thought about it. There are 168 hours in a week. Sixty of those are spent sleeping and another 40 are spent at work.  That leaves 68 hours of unaccounted time.

On what, exactly, am I spending those 68 hours?  Perhaps the answer to why the return of those 4.5 hours is so important lies within that very question.

So, I’m going to track my time and figure it out. I can only hope that these numbers will do for me what seeing the nutritional information for red meat did for my diet [insert dry heave here.]

Hard lessons about the value of time have been learned – again – in the last year. Why the hell would I waste even a moment of those 68 hours??

My Buford

It is important imperative to make 30 minutes to watch this.  I don’t even like church, and I was spellbound.

Nine years ago, we lost Bug; we will likely prematurely lose S; and I consider my mom to be a breathing miracle every day.  I didn’t realize until this very moment, I literally have a Buford named Buford.  He’s not cancer, but he’s a mountain I want to move.  And he’s not likely to go easily.  Mr. Buford unknowingly sparked my revolution.  Though LOL Congress is still a seed, it’s growing. And from that seed, I’m going to change the world.

Okay, really I’m just going to change a word in the world. But it’s a word that’s hurting a lot of people.

Live. Because I am coming. Touche, Lt. Col. Weber. Touche.