tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41052999834551913562024-02-08T10:56:46.751-08:00From the Desk of Robert St.GenisAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-20869983525767885142015-03-01T22:40:00.001-08:002015-03-01T22:40:40.162-08:00Desperation. Despair. Sticking it out. Ending the insanity #5. I have a close friend trying to end a very toxic marriage. Her husband is having an affair and has admitted it. He continues the affair rather blatantly with no regard for the emotional impact it has on her or their children. He won't move out. Just the other evening, the police called her place of work with an emergency. They wanted her husband's cell phone number. The mistress was missing and had threatened to kill herself. The story is still unfolding, but no matter the detail, it is serious. I certainly question why the mistress, who is also married and has children, would carry on such an affair as much as I question my Friend's husband judgement. That said, I can only compassion for anyone that feels so distraught that exiting this world becomes perceived as a better answer. I don't understand how anyone, especially with children, can be so selfish to feel that their own conquest for solace should trump those who love and depend on them. Thankfully, I don't know such desperation and despair.<br />
<br />
I recently learned Scott Hines had ended his life. He was a political colleague and a friend. He was the former Mayor of Rancho Mirage, CA. We first met in Washington, DC in 2010. We were both attending a Victory Fund Conference. I remember him standing up from the audience and explaining to Ray Ashburn, a Republican CA Senator that had recently come out after being arrested for drunk driving following a visit to a local gay nightclub in Sacramento, about the fears he and his partner had about the threat of legislation that could impede their ability to raise their children and why they ended up in California. Scott was unforgiving and definitively aggravated that Ashburn not only lived 2 lives, but would be a stellar opponent against LGBT legislation. He pushed Ashburn to a point where he made an apology that I only believed to be honest. It was because of this interaction I made a point of interacting with both of them following the forum.<br />
<br />
I never stayed in touch with Ray, but most definitely with Scott. Scott supported other efforts I embarked on in the years following that conference. I've met 2 of his children more than once. We have many friends in common. We saw each other at multiple Victory Fund events following. Not a close personal friend, but a friend and someone for which I hold admiration. His reelection campaign in Rancho Mirage took turns I found unfathomable in 2010 in the Coachella Valley.<br />
<br />
Not winning reelection had to suck, especially the way in which it unraveled. It sounds like he had a very favorable relationship with his present husband, who I do not know. I know he adored and was dedicated to his children. I understand there have been other issues plaguing Scott. Unlike the woman I mentioned above, here is someone whom I knew, at least somewhat well, and I can't comprehend such desperation and despair.<br />
<br />
It's not as though I see life through rose colored glasses. To the contrary, I've faced many an obstacle in my own journey and along the way I've met, known and witnessed many who have traveled paths that are unfathomable. <br />
<br />
On the surface, I was a fortunate child. Nice homes. Part of my education in an extraordinary private school, along with country club swim team and vacations to a beach house in the summer. Behind the walls of our home was my parent's contemptible marriage. Adultery, mental and physical abuse, alcoholism, made me very perceptive and advanced in years very early on, but also riddled with anger and dissatisfaction most of the time.<br />
<br />
I was, at least I thought, rather popular in my early years of school. By 4th or 5th grade, however, it started to change and I became increasingly teased and ostracized. I was also starting to realize my own sexuality at a time not nearly as accepting. I was very vulnerable. Vulnerability that led to my being sexually molested by two different adult men, one ongoing, starting at age 13. The one had a son my age and I attended his Bar Mitzvah.<br />
<br />
Being the 80's, I also was coming to terms with my sexuality at a time where "signing up" came with being on the bus being chased by the plague. I remember meeting my first person with AIDS at 18. I wasn't sure I could sit on his toilet seat. We became close buds soon after meeting. Ironically, albeit every bit, if not more tragic, after so many close calls with AIDS, he was murdered on a bus in Montreal. In a city that murder was far less likely than the New York I left in the same period. I knew over a dozen people, many near my age, who died by age 25. A unconscionable number.<br />
<br />
In early 2005, I thought I'd crossed over that wall once and for all. I met the man of my life, I had a position I really loved and was excelling. I owned my first home, a California stucco Craftsman. My California Dream. My biggest worries going into this Valentine's weekend was what blinds I might do in the bedrooms. That Friday ended with my being unexpectedly attacked and without provocation. This lead to my having emergency surgery in my head. The story gets worse and the 3 years of litigation that occurred following; costing us a fortune and netting mostly only further desperation and despair.<br />
<br />
Suffice to say, I've been challenged in major ways from a very young age. Every time I think I've reached my limit on challenges, my limit seems to be to be raised. I've been very hostile. I've been very remorse. I've certainly felt desperation and despair repeatedly. Yet, I don't know what can draw someone to feel that forcing their own exit from society is a better answer. On the surface, I tend to jokingly say "I'll take a few out before I am taking out myself." I am no more capable, in fact less, of ending someone else's life and honestly, I can't think of anyone I ever loathed so much to even really even fantasize such an idea.<br />
<br />
I've had many moments where I hate my life. I wish I could just walk away from it. But never wanted to end it. I've even tried to force myself to think of it. But, it went no where.<br />
<br />
Is it a positive part of my Catholic upbringing where I can't conceive of the ultimate sin? (I am a reformed cafeteria Catholic and now Episcopalian).<br />
<br />
Is it because my parents, despite their shortcomings, raised me with tremendous self-confidence? No, that isn't it. They contributed to my own lack of self-esteem at various times and otherwise were negligent in at least my latter childhood. Not that they didn't love me, not that they didn't mean well overall, but we are a poster family of dysfunctional.<br />
<br />
Is it all my beliefs and efforts in the struggle for equality? I have to continue to live to see them and be around to foster their future. It's hardly over.<br />
<br />
Is it because despite my achievements, I yet to feel truly accomplished? I think that potentially leads to more desperation and despair than inspiration and desire.<br />
<br />
The grass isn't always greener. The skies sometimes take a while before they clear. But, I do believe that it can get better and we should stick around to see what happens. I also know that I am loved and so are all of us. We owe it to others to be there and contribute to society in all ways we are capable.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-66771831033743072062015-02-20T07:43:00.002-08:002015-02-20T07:51:15.289-08:00The neighbor who brought us all together for all the wrong reasons.West Hollywood, California is a very small and unique city. It is less than 2 square miles, carved in awkward segments. On some streets, one side can be in West Hollywood and the other in Los Angeles or Beverly Hills. It only became a city in 1984. Prior, it was an unincorporated part of the County of Los Angeles. It's formation was an unlikely coalition between largely Russian Jewish Immigrants and gays. It is one of the more desirable places to live in the LA basin. It is also among the most expensive. The city, small as it is, is cash fluid and the city doesn't face a deficit. Few can say the same, in California, or across the country. It has unprecedented advantages, like the Sunset Strip and Boystown.<br />
<br />
When I moved to Southern CA from Washington, DC in the late 90's, it was without question, especially as a gay male, that I'd move to WeHo. In my late 20's and LA as it was then, where else would I want to be?<br />
<br />
I found a condo for rent just West of La Cienega, which I was told was preferred. After all, I had a Beverly Hills phone number! I was closer to the bars in Boystown. Like many places in West Hollywood, it was ultimately a converted apartment building with external hallways, in an L shape with a pool below. Thin walls, mediocre construction and wall unit air conditioning, but I had found my place in Paradise.<br />
<br />
About 1 year living in LA, one evening I was in my kitchen doing dishes and looking out a window that looked into our walkway and ultimately the courtyard and pool. I heard some screams, then not only heard, but felt strongly though our walls, some incredible pounding force. Before I knew what to think or do, I heard a very obviously ailing Mother, was screaming cries of hope and desperation.<br />
<br />
I went outside. Suddenly, this audience of neighbors whom I barely knew some for the last year or so, were all out to see the show.<br />
<br />
I went downstairs and while the police came in, the coroner, the Mother in and out the door in such pain, my neighbors laughed about how we really should get together. Experience thereafter showed that few really meant it. They bitched, largely to one another, about the issues in the association. Some would get you into smaller, more private conversations to bitch to you about the person standing on the other side of you.<br />
<br />
My neighbors were finding excitement in the drama. There seemed to be little to no compassion about the fact that a life had been lost. In fact, a few suggested this was a problem that the association needed to crack down upon. Evidently, to some, this man's suicide was an inconvenience to the complex as a whole.<br />
<br />
How were they to address Crystal Meth addiction, which was imploding in West Hollywood at the time? This was in the late 90's."Tina", as it is often called, is still an evil bitch and she hasn't been beaten to death yet. How does a condo association "crack down" on what people do in their residences? Posting a sign in front saying "no drug dealers" would surely be as effective as the one already in place saying "no solicitation." Restaurants hired people who found their way into the building all the time and left menus at our door or at least by the mail boxes just inside the main entrance.<br />
<br />
Otherwise, I was hearing excuses from Grandparents carrying for children should be allowed to leave their grandchildren's toys in common areas. People complained about people being too loud at the pool. Others about those who don't clean the grill properly. People went on and on about their issues, their lives. All while watching this Mother in despair.<br />
<br />
I remember an article I read in high school. It was about a woman that was attacked and raped in a courtyard at night. People heard. People listened. People turned their lights down to get a better view. Nobody wanted to be involved.<br />
<br />
I know I had met this now deceased neighbor, at least at the mailbox or on the elevator. I remember at least having some simple, pleasant, neighbor dialogue. But, I never knew him. I kind of recall his being really attractive.<br />
<br />
I felt for him that night. I really felt for his Mother. She had been calling and I guess finally called the police. I don't know how long he was dead for, but meth makes people check out, so they can be alive and functioning, just not logically. He had evidently mixed the meth with Xanax and other medication to end it all for himself. This wasn't an accident. How tragic.<br />
<br />
My neighbors continued to talk among themselves with the exception of the school teacher, who was very inquisitive with the police, fire, and otherwise and thrilled to share with the rest of us. I had met her maybe once or twice before this evening. She lived in the condo that had once been the home of Jason Gould. When we first met, she showed it to me. I had a crush on Jason since I was a teenager. Same age as me and I am a huge fan of his Mother. This evening, she ended the evening by asking me if I had a connection for cocaine.<br />
<br />
I happen to know the school teacher and a number of others that were there that night still live there. I am long gone, but I sold a condo in the building when I was a Realtor several years ago. I wonder if any of them even remember the evening. I doubt if any could name the person. It was obvious that evening that none really cared about their neighbor. It reaffirmed how life just goes on without you. I imagine, though, it was never the same for that Mother and the young man's family and friends who loved him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-50859589338908792202015-02-16T08:10:00.001-08:002015-02-16T12:27:54.715-08:00 The 2015 Journey. Ending the Insanity. #4. Yoga. <div>
In my commitment and absolute necessity to make significant changes in my life this year, I've opened my mind to experiencing for the first time things that I've thought I should probably try, but always had an excuse not to actually do.</div>
<br />
"I have too much ADHD to focus that much" or "I can't concentrate long enough" for yoga, I would say. In reality, I think I've probably feared, whether consciously or not, that maybe I might benefit from it. Sort of like making the initiative to become part of a church. Too many people get something out of it for there not to be some value. But, I must know better and I don't want to get sucked in.<br />
<br />
Yoga seems to be almost a religious following in Southern CA. I don't have statistics, but I'd be curious on the numbers of people who do yoga every week versus attend a religious ceremony or even pray. There seem to be many forms of yoga, just as there are many forms of Christianity, Judaism and other religions. It seems some are more regimented than others, again a parallel comparison.<br />
<br />
We went to Cancun in December. We stayed at an all-inclusive resort. Among the offerings were free yoga classes. I left here determined to go. It never happened. My schedule certainly could have accommodated it, but I found excuses not to do so. My husband, Mac, showed no interest.<br />
<br />
Mac, on his own journey this year, has tried yoga since January 1. We haven't had significant conversations about it, but he seems to like it and open to doing more. I finally threw myself on the mat when it was a pre-requisite for a program which I was seeking to enter.<br />
<br />
One of the first things I learned in the class was about breathing. Clearing your mind (this was already sounding ridiculous, but I opened myself to it and pulled it off) and breathing in and out through your nose. Concentrating on your breath. Simple enough. I was astonished at how relaxed I became and how much tension honestly did release from my body. I've since learned to do this almost daily when I wake up too early in the morning and I want to fall back asleep. A simple breathing exercise has increased made me calmer and more rested. I also practice at least a form of this when tension rises and I need to calm down. "Take a deep breath" has become more powerful than I could have ever imagined.<br />
<br />
Both Mac and I have issues with our backs. Mac has even had surgery. So, all the various stretching can only be beneficial, right? I've found more so than I could even imagine. Some of it is fairly simple and you wonder why you never thought of it before. Others are more challenging, but that keeps it interesting, to me, as well. The only thing I realize now is my body is expecting it. Try and take a couple of days without at least some stretching effort and I am in misery.<br />
<br />
For now, I've only experienced simple, Hatha yoga. Like everything I am doing in this year of change, I am walking to success rather than running to failure.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-16118786395224356782015-02-10T23:51:00.001-08:002015-02-13T20:01:17.140-08:00The 2015 Journey. Ending the insanity. #3.My husband and I talked about All Saint's Pasadena, my new, and perhaps our new church, after I attended services Sunday. Each Sunday, they have tables set up in their courtyard for different organizations within the church, calls to action, welcome bags for newbies and more. I had yet to get my newbie bag, so I stopped and picked it up. I also went and asked about the upcoming New Member class, which I mentioned in the last blog post.<br />
<br />
I threw out the idea of the New Member class. I said I wasn't really sure. 7 Sunday nights is a lot. But, maybe it would be worth it. It's a mighty large parish. They have many ministries. While we were married by an Episcopal Priest and I consider myself to be Episcopalian more than anything else, I haven't really been part of the church before now and was raised Catholic. I call things incorrectly. I am not going to mass now. I don't refer to Father, especially if it's a female...<br />
<br />
I have tried to go to church at least on Christmas Eve for most of our going on 11 years together. It has happened a few times, all at Episcopal Churches. Once at All Saint's. But, it was a struggle to outright fight every time with my husband.<br />
<br />
Times have changed. I just threw the idea of this class out there and before 10 AM on Monday, we were registered. He took the initiative.<br />
<br />
The LGBT group has a lunch this Sunday. He immediately went and sent an RSVP for us.<br />
<br />
He calendared our going to the 11:15 service this Sunday.<br />
<br />
So, this Sunday, I will spend perhaps more church activity time with my husband than we have in over a decade together.<br />
<br />
It is definitely a new year.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-4511497510583655962015-02-09T08:55:00.000-08:002015-02-10T22:25:45.484-08:00The 2015 Journey. Ending the Insanity #2In times of despair, many of us turn to religion. Even those of us who don't tend to be overly religious otherwise. I don't know statistics to back this up, but I truly believe that people in their greatest times of need are probably some of the greatest new recruits to religious organizations.<br />
<br />
My Mother probably spent most of her life in states of depression and was an alcoholic. Her Father had also been an alcoholic and died when she was 14. We almost lost her in the early 1990's when she was just barely the age of my husband in her early 50's. She briefly quit drinking, but it took charge again and she died in 2006 at age 64. While not overly religious, she always made an effort to be faithful to the Catholic Church. When we were young, we attended church every Sunday and both my brother and I went through all the steps from baptism to confirmation. Leading up to her demise, she had Eucharistic Ministers come every Sunday to provide communion. But for years prior, she was Cafeteria Catholic.<br />
<br />
While I dealt with my Mother's quietus in 2006, I reached out to a local Episcopal Church in Morristown, New Jersey. I met with the Priest, who counseled me. I attended service once or twice. I didn't do as much as I should have to show my appreciation, but while I still cowered away ultimately, I was very appreciative of all the comfort that was offered to me.<br />
<br />
My Godmother had breast cancer 20+ years ago. She had a mastectomy, some of the best Doctors in America, and it went into remission. Around 2004, the cancer had returned and spread. Wasn't supposed to happen. She turned to the church. I foolishly asked her what religion. This was my Godmother. Then again, I am a Godparent to a child that while Christian, isn't a religion I "practice", nor was raised. The only times I've ever been to a Lutheran Church is with these family members.<br />
<br />
Nancy died shortly after my Mother in 2006. Their was an open casket viewing; something I refused to let happen with my Mother and loathe in general. . Not 4 days after returning back to California for what I thought was for the foreseeable future, I am in Baltimore. I was told by her daughters to watch the slide show. It was a capture of her life. It was, though out of what had to be literally over 200, probably far more, constantly changing images, there wasn't one that ever included me. Not one that ever included my parents and Nancy and her husband, George, early marriage relationships with one another. The latter I more than get and I was just the Godchild, but Aunt Nancy and I had been close for all my life. When we were all young, Kate, who is my age, and Ann, closer to my brother's age, all played together when we would visit. I quickly realized how on the outside I was to the rest of this family. It was probably more heartbreaking than the loss of one of the people I have ever most adored and admired. It has proven true to this day. I wrote George once, never heard back. I wasn't really expecting to, but one can hope. It's not even unkind or ill willed. It just isn't his nature. Ann, the younger one, and I Facebook communicated a few times. But, all died with her passing. I would no longer be a guest in their home. They had a reception at the home following this massive funeral, which included elected officials and many others. I didn't go. I knew it was time to move on and that being there would just be more uncomfortable and possibly damaging to my weakened state than providing closure.<br />
<br />
I prayed following that experience. I seldom had prayed.<br />
<br />
My dear friend has cousins who were, from the sounds of it, anything but religious. Then, overcoming years of drug addiction, they decided to join the Mormon Church and found great solitude in it. Recently, many years later, they decided they don't like all the teachings of the church and have left it. I don't know them personally, but from what I know is that the church did serve a very valuable purpose for them at the time.<br />
<br />
This year has proven to be more challenging for me than perhaps any other before it. Despite almost being killed in a gay bashing in 2004. Despite all I mention above in 2006. Despite our marriage and then the passage of Prop 8 in 2008. Despite my husband losing his 24 1/2 year career at Southern California Edison in 2013; something unfathomable until the last couple years.<br />
<br />
One of the last great companies that wanted to keep you and reward you for it, SCE had fallen to the likes of Bain Capital. My husband has been at SCE since his mid 20's. He started working in the mail room and then call center. He left as a Senior Project Manager in Regulatory Finance. He had a six-digit income with great benefits. That stability gave me more freedom. It also made me more co-dependent on focusing on his success over channeling my energy on my own.<br />
<br />
I've long said that success is in the eyes of the beholder. When you wake up and look yourself in the mirror and are truly happy with yourself, then you are successful. I fooled myself at times. Otherwise, I just assumed I needed to accept my dissatisfaction for years. After all, it's all I knew from the relationships in my family.<br />
<br />
I've for the first time since childhood, become a part of a church. It's a community full of tradition, yet so non-traditional. I sought out counsel from it as well. Counseling that has provided greater insight, including about the co-dependency I just mentioned, than all the years of therapy I have spent many, many hours and thousands and thousands of dollars engaging in since I was younger than 10. It's been baby steps in terms of actually attending services. I've been to 3 so far this year. I signed up with the LGBT group and went to one lunch. But, I am finding great solace in being a part of it. This week I need to decide whether to join the new member class. It's 7 weeks which seems like forever. But, this large and financially strong community does so much. My guess is 7 one evening a week sessions will pass by quickly. Not a requirement, just a commitment. Stay tuned...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-24332758433404342032015-02-05T16:25:00.000-08:002015-02-05T16:25:22.084-08:00The 2015 Journey. Ending the Insanity. #1It's a New Year. We are prone to New Years resolutions. Studies show while we start with the best intentions, we so often fail. It's the physical fitness industry dream season. But, what about when they aren't just resolutions, but game changers that without success could mean a failed love of our life and marriage, failed career and/or even the end of our being?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We all have a routine. We all have parts of that routine that we know we should change. Yet, we most often don't. It's too comfortable. It's what we know. My parents did it. So did my Grandparents, Great Grandparents. Since I can remember, adults walk in the house at the end of the day, at 5, 5:30, 6, whatever the time (always after 5) and make cocktails. Not just simple mixed drinks, but Martinis, Manhattans or straight up alcohol on the rocks. So even if they did only have one, which wasn't always the case, before dinner, it's more than a beer, a glass of wine or a simple mixed drink.<br />
<br />
A glass of wine at dinner can even be considered healthy for you, depending on the study. Perhaps a 2nd glass isn't so bad. But beyond that after your before dinner martini?<br />
<br />
My one Grandmother never drank after dinner. I am not so sure that wasn't true for my Grandfather on the other side of the family. But, they were usually smashed before they sat at the table. If you have a glass of wine or a gin and tonic before dinner, a glass of wine at dinner and maybe one following, that isn't so bad, at least to me, over what should be 4 or so hours with food. It's the excess at each stage that becomes the insanity.<br />
<br />
I've committed myself to ending such insanity this year. I haven't felt a need to outright quit drinking, though promised if I can't reel myself in I will do what I need to do. Historically, I have shown not to have an overly addictive personality. I have a habitual personality, but can break habits. When I used methods to quit smoking, they didn't work. When I just quit, I stopped. I went back under a stressful time for a bit as a habit and again just quit. I had a couple of brief, stupid rounds with crystal meth years ago, but just up and ended them. No rehabilitation, other than some short lived therapy, where I spent my time trying to figure out how to fill the habit which created my social life on weekends. I have met so many, despite making earnest efforts, who have had incredible battles with all of the above and other substances. Some, including members of my family, starting with my own Mother and her Father, never prevail.<br />
<br />
I've also realized my excesses tend to come more from anxiety and boredom.<br />
<br />
When I smoked, it was because I was anxious or otherwise just plain bored. If I was engaged and busy, I never smoked. Simple example, I seldom smoked during the day while working. Most of my co-workers, in most of my positions, never knew I smoked unless it eventually "came out" at an evening business occasion. Introduce anxiety, sometimes boredom, and yes, alcohol. I remember once being at a black tie event with a client who was also a friend. My co-worker looked at me astonished "I never knew you smoked." I replied, "I only smoke when I am drinking." My client replied "Problem is he is never not drinking." Before anyone reads way into it, it was meant in humor, though I certainly haven't ever been known as a light weight or occasional drinker. I never was a huge smoker, but a smoker. A normal day, maybe 5 cigs all day and night. A crazy drunken escapade or major tension, perhaps half a pack or even more.<br />
<br />
I am sitting here quantifying things and I think that is a big mistake. Sure, you can fool yourself, but you can also be true to yourself. Over the last month, I've more than cut in half what was an excessive drinking habit. One that due to stress and conflicts at home became all the more extreme in recent months. I can't say it hasn't at times been a challenge. There are often occasions where I think "a drink would be so good right now." But, I redirect my focus. When I drink, if I even remotely question in my head whether to have another, I just don't pour it. I know that it means I've had enough.<br />
<br />
My new "Happy Hour" is going to the gym. I try and do cycle classes at 5:30 one or two nights a week and I will continue to add other classes. Otherwise, it's when I work out almost every day, unless I have something else scheduled at the end of the day. Doing so means I don't get home until usually 7 or later. I shower, drink water and have no desire to drink until perhaps after dinner is cooked and I am sitting down watching TV or at my computer. Tired from a long day ending with an intense workout, I not only don't desire drinking as much, but my "life span" narrows. If I eat dinner at 8, by 10 and almost always by 11, I am ready for bed.<br />
<br />
I've also noticed that I don't any longer like any feeling of being intoxicated. I do like the taste of certain alcohol. I do enjoy certain beverages. But, in a very short period of time, find I am not all happy or comfortable if I find myself feeling really buzzed and I haven't known from drunk since the beginning of the year.<br />
<br />
That occasional beer or wine with lunch. Just don't do it. No Bloody Mary's, no bottomless brunches. I am not going to tell you I will never do any of these, but I've just taken them out of what I used to consider an acceptable routine.<br />
<br />
As a result, I've lost 15 pounds in the last 6 weeks, even coming off the holidays. I sleep better. I feel better. I am ending the insanity.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-4676512597664762015-02-01T00:10:00.002-08:002015-02-01T00:10:30.227-08:00Powerless<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">We've lived in our building for just about 7 years. Among the many things we basically take for granted is our power never, ever goes out. Not only is that a seldom issue in the City of Angeles in general, but we live literally next door to the headquarters of the Department of Water and Power. </span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
It has been announced all week that the power will be out from 1-7 am. That said, had it not been for our fabulous security guard reminding me tonight when I got the mail, I would have forgotten. Never mind staring at the posting every time I was on the elevator. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
Now, I am in a panic. What to do? How to set up? Mac and I supposedly have this place pretty damn earthquake prepared. Those coming from utilities are taught to be over zealous about such things. That said, I am not happy with how many flashlights, or more significantly, their quality throughout the place. At the end of the day, we really lack candles. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
I'm exhausted. I woke up at 5:15 am, tossing and turning until I caved in and got up at 6. I've been dealing with getting my husband out of the hospital on on to his next transition all the way up to my return home at 11:30 pm. I spent almost 4 hours at CVS Pharmacy and our issues aren't complete. The insurance battles start early Monday. Easy for me just to curl up in bed. However, I have an Airbnb guest who is out on the town. Talk about liability. Someone out having fun, coming in late, in the dark, and going up our staircase...</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">
This too shall pass. Hopefully without ambulances or lawsuits. It's not too cold out, so lack of heat won't matter. In fact, our thermostat is all messed up and it's most often too hot late at night upstairs. If I have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, maybe I'll just follow Garnet's lead and pee on the bed. In the morning, I can clean it up. Lord knows I am well versed on doing so now...</div>
<div class="yj6qo ajU" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; cursor: pointer; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px; outline: none; padding: 10px 0px; width: 22px;">
<div aria-label="Show trimmed content" class="ajR" data-tooltip="Show trimmed content" id=":1d4" role="button" style="background-color: #f1f1f1; border: 1px solid rgb(221, 221, 221); clear: both; line-height: 6px; outline: none; position: relative; width: 20px;" tabindex="0">
<img class="ajT" src="https://ssl.gstatic.com/ui/v1/icons/mail/images/cleardot.gif" style="background: url(https://ssl.gstatic.com/ui/v1/icons/mail/ellipsis.png) no-repeat; height: 8px; opacity: 0.3; width: 20px;" /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-39575196611250720582015-01-19T22:29:00.000-08:002015-01-19T22:29:00.938-08:00As an Airbnb GuestMy husband and I love to travel. We drive a nice, but used car, only have one car and give up other things we could do in order to travel more. We own a fair amount of vacation ownership, or what is best known as "time share", but sometimes, as vast as the options are, you are somewhere where there isn't a place to stay or trade or there isn't availability.<br />
<br />
We accumulate hotel points too. But, the longer we haven't stayed in hotels as much, the less we ever want to do so in the future. Hotels, at their best, tend to be very impersonal. When we've had rare experiences, like the Chateau Frontenac in Quebec (a bucket list item since I first went to Quebec City at 19) or the Ritz Carlton on Central Park in New York. But in general, most hotels are just another chain. You know exactly what to expect from the moment you enter until you leave and it doesn't differ much anywhere in the world. Undoubtedly, you always spend more money. The nicer the hotel, the more you spend. Internet is costly in high end hotels. Usually free as you go down the scale. Continental breakfast can be included in lower end hotels. But, you eat out more. Whatever you drink, you're buying more of it.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, whether at a "time share" or an Airbnb, we make full meals. Many others, perhaps not much more than coffee, breakfast and drinks at the beginning and sometimes end of evening. That alone can save, depending on where you are, as much as $100 a day. I am big on experiencing culture and I think you do learn much from an economy from pricing simple things like prices of milk, eggs, meat, liquor and cigarettes (whether you drink or smoke). Going to Safeway in Washington, DC or Pathmark in Jersey City (I've lived in both before), I am not going to learn much about culture, but I will be current about economy. But, shopping in Vienna or Prague is both a cultural and economic experience. What do they eat? What is available to them at this time of year? What does it cost? How they buy their portions? Laws in all come into play here as well. What are the shopping hours? Are they open on Sunday? Do they sell liquor at the grocery store? Does the grocery store have other services, like a pharmacy? How much of this is because of market or because of laws? The latter you might not always know for sure, but, at least for me, the mystery is fun and will have me inquiring.<br />
<br />
Having gone to university in Montreal, I am a little more familiar with the metric system than the average American. That said, I can still, especially after being gone for so long make mistakes. I ordered 1 kg of hamburger meat when in Vienna. We were only there for 2 days. That is 2.2 pounds! We got very creative with many uses of hamburger and ultimately used all of it. If I recall, some of it left with us as sandwiches for the road. In general, when you stay at a place away and shop, you greatly limit how much you buy and become far more creative with it's use. I often leave such experiences thinking maybe we should try to do the same more often at home. How often do we throw food away because it expired? How many spices sit unused for literally a year at a time? How many pans get brought out but once a year? Do you really need them?<br />
<br />
My husband has not lived in DC and we have been discussing that possibility should it present itself. Staying at an apartment in DC, albeit smaller than one we would be comfortable in living in, gave us an experience living there together for a few days. Even for me, it was enlightening. I left DC almost 20 years ago. We were in the U Street Corridor, a neighborhood that was pretending to try to come around, but was ultimately scary. Now, I was questioning whether we could afford it and it was wonderful as it was always meant to be. While we could have driven by, we would have never really felt it, had it not been staying in an Airbnb apartment.<br />
<br />
Likewise, I was in Jersey City in 1990 and it was beginning to become all that it is today. Now, it's completely evolved. So much has happened there I got lost in my old neighborhood. The streets are the same. The landmarks, not even close. My husband and my stay there, spending most of our time in Manhattan, made much clear. New York is overwhelming for him and even if money were not an issue, it is of no desire. In fact, I think New York is on his short list of places he'd really not want to live. For the right amount of money, I might get him to work there. He enjoys certain things about New York, so being near it is fine and going is fine. It's just quickly too much. Bluntly, while what I consider home, I've been gone so long it tires me after a few days more and more with each passing year. Love going. Can't wait to leave. But, Jersey City seemed to be a happy compromise. Just next door, having a bit of character, lacking all the chaos.<br />
<br />
I will be completely honest and say that while we love sharing our apartment, we are usually much happier renting a place without someone else there. If I was travelling alone, I might be different. I'm not usually happy in a hotel alone or our timeshare even less so. When Mac was doing his Project Management Professional Certification in Irvine and staying down in Orange County a few days a week for a few weeks, he was quite happy in a shared home through Airbnb. When he was miserable were the couple of days he couldn't stay with them as they were booked and he stayed at some mediocre hotel for about the same amount of money.<br />
<br />
That home later invited us to their boat for the boat parade in Newport Beach, which is a big deal every holiday season. Another, albeit way down, bucket list, item. It was actually cooler than I could have ever expected.<br />
<br />
Our host in DC, knowing it was my birthday, left a bottle of wine and some wonderful mini cakes, and I try hard not to be a sweet person. She also was humiliated and in a frenzy as her internet went down. I never met her or witnessed this, but my husband interacted with her. She was so upset. A Project Manager, like my husband, worse yet in her case, an IT Project Manager, this was not to happen. She did everything including offering to refund us. It wasn't that big a deal. Busboys and Poets was right down the street on 14th. A block I wouldn't have walked alone at night in the 90's. Now with hip places with ever so creative names.<br />
<br />
I've been fortunate to spend my life travelling. My husband and I make it a focus. With rare exception, hotels have been an experience. Airbnb have been memories.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-41733283270970694882015-01-15T07:17:00.001-08:002015-01-15T07:17:47.245-08:00Being an Airbnb Host.In almost 2 years as Airbnb hosts, we've had basically no problems with any of our guests. We've had a few memorable bumps along the way, but they are more humorous than problematic.<br />
<br />
We had one girl from Russia who had 2 uninvited gentleman callers that security kept away and she ultimately kept from returning. But, there were no scenes or awkward moments, just a couple of late night calls to me from security where I said "sorry, she isn't expecting any visitors."<br />
<br />
We had 2 young guys stopping here on the way to go to the Coachella Music Festival. They smoked pot in our guest room, which really wasn't an issue other than not asking us prior to doing so. They wanted to listen to music on our surround sound system and disconnected one speaker which nine months later I've yet to figure out. But, that is as it's a low priority for me as I know such simple things can cause me great anxiety figuring out.<br />
<br />
We had a guest from Germany that didn't realize that when the key fob doesn't open the door to the pool it means the pool area is closed, not the door is broken. "I thought people might want a swim before they go to work in the morning and the door was just broken." So he jumped the fence. Luckily, security in our strict building loves us so it wasn't a big deal. I explained to our guest, who had already been here almost 10 days at that point, that he must have noticed the pool was seldom used by anyone and that people usually are showering (unlike himself) and scrambling around with household details in the morning. The pool doesn't open until 8 as a courtesy so that is doesn't interrupt people's sleep. He was just going to sit with his computer and security didn't make much of an issue, other than to call me and ask him not to repeat it.<br />
<br />
His wife stayed with us for nearly 2 months while performing here. She was very sweet, but peculiar. She was big on organic foods and not having things that were processed, but ate lots of chips and sausages. I don't care which one's you buy or from where, both are processed food. I dropped her at the Americana, a shopping Center in Glendale, and she spent 6 hours shopping, only going to 2 stores. A couple days later she and a friend spent 9 hours at the Beverly Center. Over her entire time in LA, she spent more time shopping than anything else, besides rehearsals and sunbathing. She joined friends and I for a day at Big Bear and Lake Arrowhead. She went to Hollywood with me once. But, she would not explore anywhere on her own. Even once her husband was here, who wanted to do many of the "traditional" attractions: Universal Studios, Disneyland, etc; she limited the amount of activity. Most peculiar: She never once used a washing machine in 2 months. At one point, our housekeeper put the only set of sheets we have that aren't 100% cotton down and she asked for them to be removed because she was getting a rash. We question what might have been giving her a rash...<br />
<br />
We have nearly perfect ratings. I think we have had one guest complain about our air conditioning. Sorry to say, I think he has an issue. He was sweating the entire time he was here. We were not nor were any one else before or after him and it wasn't a particularly hot time of year. Recently, a guest suggested we put in bigger light bulbs by the bed so they could see better to read at night. OK? Actually, for some reason, one bulb was missing in one lamp and has since been replaced. But, all in all, people seem to enjoy their stay. Some guests we never see. Some we never met. Some we have had meals or enjoyed a drink. In one case, we took one to Vegas with us for a weekend.<br />
<br />
We have hosted almost 90 guests in near 2 years from almost every continent in the world. We have learned a lot about Saudi Arabia from a longer term guest who was here as an older (30s) student at USC. We had a brief stay with a young man and his single Mother, who was the head of a NGO in Kuwait, which was incredibly enlightening contrast as they were shortly after our Saudi guest. We've had a British citizen of Indian decent living in Canada, Chinese Americans, a Chinese living in Singapore, Italian decent living in Germany, Ukrainian decent living in Germany, to people from Canada, Britain, Spain, France, Germany, Italy, Columbia, Japan, China, India, Turkey, in addition to those mentioned above. And yes, we get Americans, occasionally even Californians. They all come for different reasons making each of their stays all the more interesting. The experience continues to be rewarding to us on multiple levels.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-20274552169944788832012-12-22T14:11:00.000-08:002012-12-22T14:11:11.618-08:00"Nice purse, fag..."Most people, including many Angelenos themselves, don't realize Los Angeles has an extensive transit system. In fact, among the largest in the US. It is one that continues to grow albeit way late for such a large, innovative, city.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I live Downtown. Admittedly, it makes using transit far easier. So, I went to West Hollywood today by bus.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I enjoyed a Happy Hour with friends and new acquaintances, taking off on the bus knowing my husband was home trying to master my Great Grandmother's recipe for fruit cake. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I left on a bus from San Vicente and Santa Monica in West Hollywood towards Downtown. Initially, it was crowded and somewhat uncomfortable. My husband text me telling me he was making progress. I know why people don't like fruit cake. But, they haven't had our family recipe. I dislike almost everyone else's fruit cake but that which I had every year growing up and have missed for at least the last 7.<br />
<br />
I was walking back from the #4 bus, 3 blocks from our home. Passed by our Board of County Supervisors Chambers, then though the Music Center. The tree at the Music Center was in all it's glory. I crossed the street to the LA Department of Water and Power Headquarters. The fountains were in Christmas colors. For Los Angeles, it was a chilly evening, almost welcoming given the season and far from unbearable.<br />
<br />
I was crossing my corner at First and Hope Streets and I hear from a car turning left "nice purse fag." Honestly, my bag receives lots of compliments on a frequent basis. In fact, just that afternoon, I had a nurse in my Doctor's office proclaim "I can't get enough of that bag." She then went on to compliment my boots. Unfortunately, this proclamation was anything but a compliment and was spoiling my otherwise very pleasant evening. Out of impulse, I screamed, "Yeah, come here and tell me that." But, they were gone, which is a good thing. While at the side of my complex and it having high security, I didn't need a confrontation. Then again, I refused to whimper away. Most idiots that would shout such a thing are nothing more than insecure wimps. One can make the argument that ignoring them shows power. I don't buy that; it makes more believe they have intimidated, humiliated you. Yet, we must be careful on how and where we throw ourselves out as a martyr. I would just like to believe it isn't something I would not confront in my immediate community, in Los Angeles, in 2012. It just reminds you that no matter how much progress, there is still more to be done.<br />
<br />
My husband, to my amazement, mastered the fruit cake recipe. He is a good cook, but this is something which was such an effort in my family growing up I didn't think that someone who neither had liked fruit cake prior, let alone made one, would get it down on his first try. He has changed his own position, loving his fruit cake. Many are receiving them as gifts.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-22065544706312031432012-12-15T21:46:00.002-08:002012-12-17T12:53:58.877-08:00Closer and Closer to homeI remember when Columbine happened in 1999. Not somewhere I knew personally, but watching video at the time, I thought, "this reminds me of where I lived in West Bloomfield, Michigan." I could be off on one statistic or another, but it was a middle-class suburban America that I was well familiar. My Father said to me that night "I am so glad to not be raising children now." Mind you, this came before all his grandchildren where his reflection might have been all the greater. While uncomfortably seemingly similar, it was somewhere else. I had been to Colorado only once in my life at that point and never Littleton.<br />
<br />
The recent shooting at Clackamas made me reflect. I've been to Portland many times, but Clackamas? It's a name that kind of sticks with you. I thought for a minute... Didn't I work out at a 24 Hour Fitness there? In fact, I think I went to that mall that same day. After a little checking online, there is in fact a 24 hour Fitness in Clackamas right by the mall and seeing further pictures of the shopping center, while not particularly unique to many a shopping center across America, I know I was there once, if not a couple of times 5 or 6 years ago. I had friends that lived in the area at the time.<br />
<br />
Then, there was the senseless, inexplicable shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, CT. That was sounding way too familiar. I never lived in Connecticut, but my brother did and graduated from Western Connecticut University in Danbury, just a couple of towns over. He lived for a while in Bethel, which is adjacent Newtown. I have a friend who lives now in neighboring Southbury, and I used to visit her when we were teens and she was growing up in Waterbury, also just a few towns over. I had other friends in Nagatuck and Middlebury; all in the same region of the small state. Sandy Hook stood out to me because I remember commenting about it then, as there is a State beach with the only nude beach in New Jersey called Sandy Hook.<br />
<br />
My step Mother, sister and brother, spent many years in nearby Ridgefield, also in the same area. They too lived there for the same reasons many parents spoke of post this incident; a different world away from the intensity of New York City, albeit commutable. Great schools, bucolic and calm. I didn't know them then, so I only know limited stories of their time there. But, yet another registration of this was really apart of "my world" in more ways than one.<br />
<br />
My Father and step Mother lived in Guilford, CT at the same time my brother was at West Conn. It is to the East of New Haven, down by the coast and a bit of a drive. Remind you, small state. The biggest part of the drive was the twisting and winding 2 lane roads to avoid the congested, limited freeways. Perhaps it was through visiting my brother with them I passed through Sandy Hook.<br />
<br />
I am waiting to talk to my brother. But, I've been there. More significantly, I really know a community like Newtown. This is surreal to most anyone, but has totally blown away why so many of those families live with a longer commute, deal with the greater difficulty with often greater snow and more hills, and often long drives just to good malls.<br />
<br />
As I was about to distance myself from news coverage for the evening, I learned of a shooting at Excalibur Casino Hotel in Las Vegas. We have an unofficial "adopted" son that is a student at UNLV. He works further down the strip at another casino.<br />
<br />
There has been a shooting at Fashion Island in Newport Beach. Nobody injured, but over 40 rounds shot off and must have been terrifying. I live in Southern CA. I have shopped there with frequency. A friend of ours happened to be working there while it happened.<br />
<br />
It certainly seems like we need to logically rethink much in America. Freedom begins with safety and security. The answer isn't to arm every school teacher, let alone retail worker, but to make their environments more safe. We also don't want to create a police state that makes us all feel burdened and discouraged at our every move. There is and we must find some middle ground.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-72295280605769340242012-12-13T09:17:00.001-08:002012-12-13T09:17:40.403-08:00Fear of...Part TwoThe next morning, a cardiologist came to visit and reaffirmed how lucky I was to had "made it." It still wasn't totally registering with me. I had horrible leg pain when I went into the hospital; I never felt my life was in danger. I thought perhaps this was something that built over time; later to learn that it can happen in seconds, including a clot starting in your leg and travelling to your lungs.<br />
<br />
What is most frustrating is it isn't because of anything I did or did not do. At least, nobody yet, and I have been seen by no less than 10 physicians through since entering that ER, has a concrete reason for this to have happened. I had taken up smoking again, but I doubt my few smokes a day for 6 months caused the clot. I've since quit for good, by the way. 5 days in the hospital was perfect for stopping. I had flown home from New York some 3 weeks earlier; but I must have gotten up at least 3 times in the flight and have certainly flown greater distances and that journey no less than 100 times. I work from home, but am constantly moving. I pace on the phone. In short, the only tie we can make is genetics.<br />
<br />
My Mother died of congestive heart failure in 2006. She had varicose veins stripped when I was a kid. In the last decade of her life or even longer, she was on blood thinners, as I am now. She had water retention in her legs for years, as I do in my left leg now. Her leg would itch to the point she'd scratch it until it bled and scared. Thankfully, I learned from her to control my itching. But, it is annoying.<br />
<br />
I am not as ill as my Mother and hope never to be. But, this unexpected near death experience certainly gives reason to be concerned. To some extent, almost annoyed. I eat well overall, I work out, I moisturize. It doesn't seem fair or reasonable to have my leg in a compression stocking and to add yet another medication to my pill box for the rest of my life.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-5705844975506559002012-12-13T03:14:00.001-08:002012-12-13T07:55:05.744-08:00Fear of being your familyLet's face it. Most, if not all of us, carry attributes we most despise of our parents and other family members. Despite everything we said growing up about how we were "never going to be" like either our Mother or Father in one arena or another; there we are, in circumstance after another, where we are kicking ourselves saying "I swear I'd never be that way."<br />
<br />
We can try to fight genetics in our personality. We can certainly eat better, not smoke, not drink, exercise more, any list of health aspects that may have been beneficial to our predecessors. We can decide to take medications to help or avoid them all together because of family history. We can spend lots of time and money in therapy to be less argumentative, more assertive; whatever it is we are lacking. But, at what point do you accept that is who you are and how to best manage it? Whether it be your genetic link to diabetes, outbursts of anger, alcoholism or name an issue, can you really fight your own destiny and being? Now, I am reminding myself of Greek Mythology.<br />
<br />
In my first post, I mentioned a recent scare. I woke up one weekday morning with a quick chest pain. Didn't think anything of it as it passed in seconds. Then, I got out of bed. It was so painful to walk. Perhaps, a momentary thing, I dragged myself to the restroom for morning relief. I walked down my stairs, a task far more challenging that morning that normal. I made coffee. I fed the cats, all the time thinking "WTF." I walked over to my desk which passes a mirror. I was wearing either just my underwear or shorts, I honestly don't remember and who cares? My left calf was twice the size of my right calf. I knew "this ain't right." I immediately, and have no idea why, thought, blood clot. But, even in thinking that and quickly believing I needed to do something, I wasn't as threatened as perhaps I should have been at the time.<br />
<br />
I struggled to get upstairs and shower. I had extreme difficultly drying myself and getting dressed. I returned downstairs to my desk and knew I needed to go to the hospital. I called my husband, but got his voice mail. I tried to do a bit more at my computer and instinct said "call an ambulance." So, I called our front desk (as they escort them anyway) and had them call one. At this point, I knew I couldn't make it upstairs to get shoes. I had been awake just over an hour.At least the cats had been fed.<br />
<br />
LAFD was there very quickly. The paramedics were so LA they could be written into any TV show or movie. He was this, at best, 30 year old, tall, handsome, stunning eyed man with just a personality that made you feel confident in him the second you saw him. She was about the same age, muscular for a woman, also stunning, compassionate and comforting. I remember her saying "great digs" when they first walked in. We have a nice place. It isn't all that, but that comment at that moment was certainly an ice breaker.<br />
<br />
It turns out at the ER, while I am waiting to be admitted, that the brother in law of my one paramedic is also at the same hospital. Also a scripted looking character, both in looks and personality. It turns out he has roughly 1 year old triplets. I have 2 family members with twins. I can't imagine triplets. It turns out the female paramedic used to be an award winning weight lifter and such, but got out of it not liking all the steroid and other drug use. This I all learned while waiting with them wondering why I was really there.<br />
<br />
It took near an hour to get a space in the ER. However, once in, I was incredibly well treated and they had not only diagnosed that yup, I had a blood clot in my left leg, but that I had a pulmonary embolism in both lungs. At this juncture, I still wasn't really aware of how lucky I was to just be alive.<br />
<br />
That reality still wasn't with me when they said I would be admitted, something I didn't think necessary initially. Wasn't there just an injection that makes this all go away and I go home? I went to the ICU and still thought, well, they are being cautious. That evening, a Doctor visited and said "It is good you came when you did, otherwise we would likely not be having this conversation." Even then, I was thinking, well it took over an hour to be seen in the ER, it was a few hours before a diagnosis....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-62331960910853869882012-11-12T15:43:00.002-08:002012-11-20T14:44:29.944-08:00Buddy Passes-Part 2.Following in true New England fashion, the weather during our week in Provincetown was literally all over the place. It was hot and humid, sometime sunny, others cloudy. At other points, it was a bit chilly. Rain would come at random, often with great intensity. All of the above could be apart of one day. Weather literally changes in minutes and with frequency.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
About our 3rd day there, we went to T-Dance at the Boatslip, a longtime Provincetown tradition for our late afternoon cocktails and dancing. We were far out on the very long deck area and it suddenly down poured. Mac had to hobble at great speed across the deck in is cast. He made an impressive effort. Unfortunately, or maybe really fortunately at the end of the day, his cast was soaked and ultimately destroyed. We spoke to his Doctor in Los Angeles and that evening we were introduced to Cape Cod Hospital in Hyannis; the only place within 60+ miles with the equipment to remove a cast. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Cast removed, we now had some more options, albeit Mac was still not 100% healed. He just had a bit more flexibility. It also made us both a bit more apprehensive as people are cautious around casts, but aren't as attentive with the "boot" that followed. It also didn't garner nearly as much attention, which was a bit diappointing to my husband.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We knew we were going to spend 2 nights in Boston at the end of the trip as we had missed our 1 night in Boston on the front end. But, should we continue on and go to New York City for a couple of days? The 4th was nearing; should we just get home? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I called US Airways. They told me I could change my existing passes, but I would lose the unused outbound passes and the fares paid for them. That didn't seem right. It later turns out, it wasn't correct. The agent was just ill informed. Something I find is a common problem with airlines on such passes. He suggested I request a full refund for these passes and ask for new ones, just one way for each of us, be issued. So, we did.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We decided to error on caution and head back on Monday, July 2, from Boston with the new passes. We made the 1st flight from Boston to Phoenix. We didn't make the cut for the 1st connecting flight, but did the 2nd some 2 1/2 hours later to LA. This was more than reasonable amount of inconvenience for the type of fare (I refuse to call it non-revenue since there is revenue). </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The real next headache arose after we returned home in getting our refund. The credit card which was used months earlier to buy the passes was no longer a valid account number, but US Airways could only credit to the card initially charged. Further, they had confusion on what was used, not used, etc. After many calls and emails, 2 segments were credited back to the credit card. After multiple calls to the credit card issuer, that refund was returned. We were then told my cousin would for fit the unused passes. That didn't seem fair. In another call, it was suggested because she is retired they might return them to the account, which they ultimately did. At the end of the day, we finally received our refund in full from the credit card last week, some 3 months after the trip was concluded. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I remain most appreciative of the passes being offered. I was warned that it isn't a lot of fun to use them. Boy, did that ever prove to be true. Granted our circumstances pushed the limits of the typical buddy pass traveler, but it seems that the process could be a bit more streamlined. My guess is the entire program is more of a necessary evil to airlines and not something which they have any interest in making friendlier. Watching the hell a number of full fare passengers were facing trying to get on standby, most often for no fault of their own, I can say customer satisfaction remains a real problem in the airline industry.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-39101154049234952872012-11-10T08:41:00.001-08:002012-11-10T08:41:45.545-08:00Buddy Passes- part 1In my last blog, I mentioned Mac and I went to Provincetown last June. I didn't mention the incredible experience we had getting there and back with "non-revenue" tickets. I put this in quotes as it is 1st misnomer of the buddy pass experience. "SA7" or space available 7 passes are less expensive than an even non-refundable fare you might by online, but they do cost money. In this case, when I went to book plane tickets to Boston, we were looking at airfares between $500-700 round trip from Los Angeles. It was the end of June, so right into the summer vacation peak season. On US Airways, where my cousin is a retiree and offered us passes, the round trip fare was $197.20. No idea how they come up with that number. Certainly far less expensive, but definitely not free. They are to be changeable and refundable, which is a nice feature. They still charge you to check a bag. On United, which our friend works for an affiliated airline of United and who's passes we also used, it is $75 each way on most flights across the US and they don't charge you to check a bag. They are also changeable and refundable. There are other space available levels, from 1 to even less than 7, though I can't imagine what falls below 7 and they are based on seniority and other factors, and some can only be used by employees and their immediate family. Each airline, while there is some uniformity, has it's own policies as well.<br />
<br />
We were warned that it isn't an easy experience. We went into it being mentally prepared for a challenge and, as my husband remarked, thought of it as an "adventure." I think nightmare might be a better assessment following, though it did provide for many a conversation and this blog post.<br />
<br />
We were told to try and go out on a Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday. We were told red eye flights from the West Coast were less popular. So, we booked (which really means added our name to a wait list) a Thursday flight on a red eye from LAX to Philadelphia and we would then take a morning flight to Boston. We had a back up plan as there was also a red eye to Charlotte and we could get a flight to Boston from there. Philadelphia and Charlotte are hubs for US Airways. We arrived at the airport plenty early, which I now know is less important than having your name on the list. A flight that day, one flight, was cancelled, so every other flight on US Airways that evening was overbooked. So, we patiently waited and hoped while 3 flights departed. We then, at 1 AM, drove home, slept for 3 hours and returned to the airport, hoping one of the really early flights might be possible. We tried to get on at least 3 US Airways flights that morning, starting at 5:30 and around 8 AM a gate agent informed us that the odds were not favorable we'd get on a US Airways flight until sometime next week. Next week? We had reservations in Provincetown that I had made a year earlier that started on Saturday.<br />
<br />
Distraught, we called a friend in Boston. He works for Cape Air and has been in the industry a long time. Because he works for a regional carrier, I didn't think he'd able to do anything for us, nor was I expecting him to do anything, but thought he could guide us on what to do. I didn't want to call my cousin as she was so kind to offer the passes to begin with and I didn't feel it was fair to "disrupt" her retirement with our whining how we were about to miss our vacation. I looked into buying one way last minute tickets before our call to Greg, but those were just absolutely cost prohibitive.<br />
<br />
It turns out Greg had been awarded a bunch of passes on United as some sort of promotion when they merged with Continental. He generously offered them to us and we graciously (really more frantically) accepted. He listed us on a flight at around 9 or 9:30 AM, so we raced our way from one end of LAX to the other to get to United's terminal. Although one of the larger airports in the US, LAX is not terribly user friendly on multiple levels. Getting from terminal 2 to 7 is a challenging and even life threatening experience; not a simple tram ride.<br />
<br />
Turns out that flight was overbooked as well. But, United is a huge airline and has lots of flights heading East. So, we get on a wait list for another and all looks really good until a flight is cancelled. Suddenly, we went from #2 on the wait list to close to #60. Realizing we were in for a long day, we purchased day passes at the United Club, which wasn't only comforting, but fiscally responsible. They provide snacks and free drinks, along with Internet and agents to help with booking, so the $50 per person investment was less expensive than what we would have spent over the course of the day at one of the overpriced restaurants at LAX. It also saved running around terminal 7 all day and provided a comfortable seat, as opposed to my sitting on the floor, as I had been earlier.<br />
<br />
Not getting on flight after flight to the East, Greg suggests that we get to San Francisco and try from there. It took 2 attempts, but we did get to San Francisco in the evening. At this juncture, Mac and I really just wanted to be somewhere other than LA. While San Francisco wasn't in our plans, at least we would be "out of town" if we ended up stranded there. Plus, we love the city and have a number of friends there. Never mind, our bag is already sitting in baggage claim at US Airways at Logan International Airport in Boston.<br />
<br />
We had a nice dinner at a restaurant called "Yankee Pier" at SFO. Clam Chowder to start at a restaurant with "yankee" in it's name; exactly how I thought we'd start our vacation; other than we were still on the opposite coast! After spending over $100 to eat dinner at the airport, we go to the gate now praying that we might actually get to Massachusetts. Thankfully, Greg's plan worked, and we were able to get on the red eye to Boston, arriving Saturday morning, only 1 day later than originally planned.<br />
<br />
Greg picked us up at 6 AM and we all went to breakfast at some diner. Diner's aren't as big in California and I finally felt like I had arrived when the sharp accented waitress served me mediocre coffee and a plate of food that should have really been for a family of 4, not one person. We showered at Greg's, then headed into town to get the car I had reserved so that we could drive on to Provincetown. Except Avis was out of cars. Never mind I had made the reservation at least 6 months ago! After some heated words with customer service while wondering the streets of Boston, we get a car squared away and go to the Ye Olde Oyster House, proclaimed to be America's oldest restaurant for lunch. I had not been there since I was in 7th grade and thought it was a perfect part of the Colonial America vacation experience. It did not let us down.<br />
<br />
After lunch, I picked up the car, a Prius. I had always had a disdain for the Prius, maybe in part because so many people have them in LA and it's such a stereotypical car. I almost took it right back as I was having troubles understanding how certain things worked. I'm glad I didn't. We grew to absolutely love the car. It fit our needs perfectly and we remain in awe that we averaged almost 50 mpg all week.<br />
<br />
That evening, we arrived in Provincetown. Our place was ready. Because Mac had called and explained he was in a cast, they gave us a 1st floor unit on a corner of the complex, directly across from the pool and with handicapped parking right outside our door. Things were looking better.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4105299983455191356.post-30004468425411196862012-11-04T23:02:00.002-08:002012-11-10T07:10:12.040-08:00Not accepting present realities.Last Memorial Day, my husband, Mac and I went to Yosemite (one location in CA, despite much travel and having been here longer than anywhere else, I had never been) and then on to Lake Tahoe. Timing wasn't the best. Mac had just had foot surgery, was in a cast and had a scooter to get around. It rained, sleet and snowed. I came down from something like 8000 feet on narrow roads with near whiteout snow conditions, cautiously sliding my way to the bottom. I spent much of my early driving years in such conditions. It is one of the many reasons I have lived in Southern CA for so long. Mac in the back seat expressing his worry wasn't helpful. But, we made it to Tahoe.<br />
<br />
Yosemite is beautiful. Sometime, without snow and Mac walking, we shall return. We have always loved Tahoe and been multiple times, though I prefer it without weather where I can't see across the lake.<br />
<br />
One morning, I went out and sought out a hair cut. I went to a small salon in a strip mall. The woman that cut my hair was the owner and had the business for about 2 years. She has 2 teenage children. Her husband manages an arcade. She is quite concerned about whether her children will be prepared for college. She recited a recent experience her husband had hiring high school Seniors. He was worried about their ability to calculate and asked some what should be insulting questions, like "how many quarters in a dollar?" Something like 2 out of 6 could answer correctly. "How many nickels in a dollar?" was even more frightening. Hearing this issue in a small, an albeit rural, also affluent school system (at least it's tax base) made me even more alarmed. Wow, we in CA (and yes, she lived in CA) have destroyed our master plan. What made us really could a part of the ultimate demise of the CA Dream.<br />
<br />
En route home, we diverted and went to San Francisco. We met up with 3 close friends for dinner. We discussed Mac's surgery. We discussed our one friend's upcoming 2nd knee surgery. We discussed our other friend's earlier knee surgery. Neither of these people are heavy or otherwise unhealthy, just bad knees. Around this dialogue, while trying to read menus, we all discussed our vision, need for glasses, and how it has changed. Mac was the oldest person at this table about to turn 50. The rest of us between 40 and 45. I stopped, looked and said "Really? This is what it has gotten to? We are spending dinner together talking about our ailments and how we deal?" It caused pause. It caused a laugh. But, the ultimate consensus was "yup, that is our lives now." Nobody was defeated, in fact all were determined to prevail despite their obstacles. But, it was also clear that life with people whom, in some cases I have known for over 20 years, was changing. In a couple of the friends, they are among my wilder earlier memories. We know now we have limits. We drink less, in one case, doesn't drink at all any more, which so sucks since a huge part of our relationship revolved around wine and food pairing, wine tasting, etc. Mac and I are going to Napa for the New Year and it would be now nasty and torture to invite him to join us, whereas it would have been great fun before. I am not minimizing, nor am I going to be prolific on the details of his scenario, but knowing that his quitting drinking had much to do with other issues and a lot being legal, I just wish I had not lost one of my best wine buds.<br />
<br />
This June, we went to Provincetown, MA with a visit to Boston. We have 2 friends in Boston. They have both battled issues with cancer. They are both in their 40's. It is isn't their environment or drinking water (they don't live in the same area, nor were raised nearby each other, albeit both from New England), it is just another reminder that things happen that have no explanation. Not about smoking. Not about anything in particular. Just happened. Luckily, both are doing fine.<br />
<br />
This whole post and the commencement of this blog started because of visiting a Facebook page of a former classmate of mine at Morristown High School (NJ). She died 2 years ago this last September. She had cancer. She was married and had 2 young children. This isn't right for anyone; certainly sucks when you have any memory of a fun and engaging young woman when she was in high school and the hardship those 2 girls will face throughout their childhood forward. I find it weird, yet engaging, that the page remains.<br />
<br />
I had a recent scare event. I was taken away in an ambulance and hospitalized for near 5 days just 2 weeks ago. I will be OK, but a long recovery. But, that is another blog post.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12263479171483417075noreply@blogger.com0Los Angeles, CA, USA34.0522342 -118.243684933.6312602 -118.87539890000001 34.4732082 -117.6119709