I Got No Routine!

I left my job at the credit union 3 weeks ago to work full-time at the business that Lynne (hence know as "the colleague") and I started 3 years ago. During that time I dabbled in the business for 4 hours during the week and part-time on the weekends. Now, I am here every day, all day and many times all evening - like now - except I am not working, I'm blogging but who is gonna fire me?

I've discovered or more truthfully have finally admitted that I am a creature of routine. I need routine, I crave routine, I function best when I have a routine. Right now I have not established my new routine and I don't like it. I cried on Monday morning because I keep losing my purse in my new work environment. For 14 years that purse went underneath my desk. Now my office is different and I don't know where to put my purse anymore. I've got no routine. See?

During our staff meeting on Tuesday, Lauren asked me if I was OK. I said, no not really. I just realized that morning I was not on vacation from my job. I am not going back. I am not going to look out my window and see the crazy people on the corner of Capitol & S. Washington. I am not going to have a cup of decaf dunkin donuts coffee in the afternoon with Bernadette in my Pike Fish Market coffee mug (thoughtful gift from Bernadette). I am not going to be able to walk 6 steps to Brandi's office and ask her what she is doing this weekend. I am not going to wander up to the 6th floor to stretch my legs & chat with Julia. The list of things that I will no longer experience on a day to day basis is both big and small. I am sad about the endings.

But here is what I am happy about leave the corporate world. I can check facebook, view pornography and sell things on eBay at 2:00 p.m. on a work day without violating policy. OK, I only have done 2 of these things. I can also take a 10 minute cat nap on my couch (although this is frowned upon). I can tell my colleague that she is really bugging the crap out of me & she is not the boss of me (also frowned upon). I can give my colleague in the kiss in the employee kitchen and it is not sexual harassment. I am learning new things like how to write a press release using the words "dynamic" and "thrilling." This is no small feat for a former HR person who most recently rewrote the tantalizing Holiday Policy and used this catchy phrase "the organization will observe the holidays recognized by the Federal Reserve." Note to other HR people who change professions and write press release - You will never ever have to use the term "your employment may be terminated" again!

I also get to work with the people I love (even if we are still working on how not to make each other crazy). I get to make decisions about my business. I help create a space for people to celebrate their happiest moments or to have fun with friends or hear good music. We have turned an old sad lonely building into a place of warmth & good spirits. These are the things to remember when I am afraid and feeling uncertain of my decision.

Peace Out

With This Ring, I Thee Wed

Our 10th coupledom anniversary was on August 6th. We do not always buy gifts for our anniversary. I told Lynne the best I thought I could manage this year was a kiss and a "good morning, happy anniversary, where did 10 years go, gotta to run to work, see you later so we can work the event tonight, love you, drive safe, goodbye!" Lynne on the other hand went shopping after working a 17 hr day so I would have a present on our special day. I found it on top of the coffee pot when I got up in the morning. I don't know why, other than I was sleep deprived from not having her home until the wee small hours but I immediately ripped open the gift without even waiting to unwrap it in her presence. I'm a dork, but in my defense I was sleepy, I needed coffee & I like gifts. The present was a ring.

She then stumbled into the kitchen for her morning mocha. With the box in hand, I said, "Are you asking me to marry you?" She said "Yes!" I said "Yes!" The State of Michigan said "No!" We said, "The law be damned!" After working another 17 hr day, we went shopping. We found a similar ring in Lynne's size (she told me she hid it when she bought mine in anticipation that we would be back buying hers). We got home, at 2:30 a.m., I cut off the plastic tag, put the ring on her finger and in our kitchen, among the unwashed dishes and standing on exhausted feet with 2 meowing cats as witnesses - we were wed.

I must say that I immediately liked wearing that ring. I also like looking over and seeing one on her left hand. It makes me feel so, I don't know, connected to her. Its sexy too. Why you ask, I don't know but it is. I also like wearing a ring because I feel like I am in a special club. A club with weird perks - like being called Mrs. Hill at the optometrist's office. I did not correct the person who called me Mrs. Hill because I thought, well, I am wearing a ring on my left hand. If I tell her I am not married, she might say, "You can't wear a ring on your left hand if you're not married. The ring police will give you a citation. Do you want a citation? Then you'll need to appear before The Preservation of Family Values Committee. They don't mess around. They'll run you right out of the country and have to live with all the other gay people - in Canada."

I am not sure why we did not do this sooner. Well, probably because I am the one in the relationship who always worries if its going to last. Lynne believes we will last through the end time - see opposites do attract. I think I have also really come to understand that the differences that pull us apart are the same things that bind us together like glue. So, whether the government thinks its legal or not, I "wed" the woman I love & we shall live our lives like everyone else in this world - together with days of joy & happiness and days where we will be pouting in different rooms of the house because we are mad as hell at each other. In other words - a "normal couple."

These are My People

It's Pride weekend in Lansing & it has got me thinking about my people. When I say my people, I am talking about my lesbian people. The lesbian world is a diverse one. There are tall ones, short ones, fine ones, kind ones, lipstick ones, butch ones, sports ones, academic ones, and lesbians like me - the suburban lesbian. We suburban lesbians go to work, mow the lawn, pay the bills, read the newspaper, watch HGTV, subscribe to Netflix (where we search in vain for a decent movie about lesbians that does not end in suicide or an arranged marriage for one of the women). The suburban lesbian's date night is Saturday evening at their local Meijer. Yes, this is true. Lynne and I play "spot the lesbians" & we find it quite fun. Each couple gives the other the "nod" which I am sure is similar to the nod that is given by other groups as a silent acknowledgment of kinship. This is a type of gaydar and sometimes mine works and sometimes it does not, so if you are shopping with your heterosexual best friend & I give you the nod at least you will understand why I did it.

I'd like to clear up a few common misconceptions about lesbians:

1. We do not all wear Birkenstocks.
2. Every lesbian does not own a flannel shirt.
3. We do not love women because men would not have us.
4. Lesbians do not hate all things phallus. Hence the gazillion dollar dildo and vibrator industry.
5. We do not all want to change the spelling of woman to womyn & history to herstory.
6. We do not all go into the forest and drum.
7. Not all of us want to hang out for a week in tents at Festival, with shirts off & our boobs flouncing about for the entire world to see.
8. We do not all own cats - although most of us do.
9. We do not all drive Subaru's - mostly Honda's.
10. We do shave our legs -hm mm, occasionally

Some generalizations are true. These are:

1. After you come out of the closet, a toaster does appear on your door step. It's magic.
2. Many lesbians really believe that given a chance, their powers at lovemaking & supreme understanding of the clitoris will turn a straight woman into a gay one.
3. Lesbian committees can be so politically correct and inclusive, that a decision never gets made because doing so would marginalize somebody, somewhere.
4. Many lesbians think certain historical & literary figures from the past were lesbians when the facts are in dispute. These include Eleanor Roosevelt, Willa Cather and my great Aunt Louise (although I do have her "roommate's" antique butter churner & I'll be sure to pass it along to the next lesbian of my genetic clan)

Oh, I could divulge much more but I've gotta run. We are hosting a Pride Party tonight. I need to check out my flannel wearing rhythmically impaired sisters on the dance floor.

The Beat Goes On

I finally received the results of the holter monitor test. It revealed that I am "throwing" PVC's and PAC's which makes me think I have a future career as a lobbyist for the home improvement industry. It is my understanding that these blipitty blopitty quick firing electrical currents of my heart are common and I don't even know when they happen. Although...... that might explain why I can walk by the touch lamp in the family room and it turns on all on its own.

The cardiologist recommended I have sleep test in order to determine if sleep apnea is causing my palpitations and electrical spikes. My General Practitioner agrees since I am also waking up at night and not sleeping well. For the Blue Cross/Blue Shield folks who will process the claim, the diagnosis is "reoccurring nocturnal awakenings." I instantly think of Bach and wonder if he wrote Sleepers Awake for some peri-menopausal babe he had on the side.

I spaz out thinking of the possibility of having to get a CPAP machine. I wonder how I will ever wear a mask that shoots air up my nose since I am now a card carrying member of the Claustrophobics are Us Club. While waiting for my test day to arrive, I do some Internet research regarding sleep apnea. I decide to make myself feel better by purchasing a sleep apnea product package from Amazon.com that contains: one sleep apnea pillow, two nostril expanders and a mouth guard- all for $95 plus shipping. They are not necessarily guaranteed to work but they were frequently purchased together by people like me. People with a credit card & an aversion wearing a mask to bed but who at the same time needs something to open up their noses and mouths to allow in more air when they sleep. I also consider another Amazon.com package that is recommended based on my previous searches and purchases. It includes the following book titles: "Hormones and You", "Unexplained Paranormal Experiences of the Peri-menopausal" and "Ten Strategies to Lower Your Freak Flag." All that for just $65 plus shipping. I pass on these fascinating titles.

The pillow is odd looking but I love it. The nostril expanders I gave to Lynne to try. She put them in her nostrils. She said she felt like a bull with a nose ring. Indeed, she resembled one. I love her more just for trying them. In the morning, we found the nose ring in the sheets along with my little balls of wax I use to block out Lynne's snoring. We're quite a pair aren't we? The mouth guard remains unopened. It requires a flat wooden stick to soften up the plastic but it was not included. So as soon as my popsicle stick is dry, we'll open her up.

I had the sleep test last night. It was not as bad as I expected it would be. It was like sleeping at a $75 a night motel. You know the drill: lumpy bed, thin gaudy floral bedspread, mauve curtains on the window, distinct disinfectant smell that you take home on your PJ's.

They wire you up so they can monitor your heart, brain waves and breathing. I think they might have even been trying to read my mind too. I checked myself out in the bathroom mirror before going to sleep. I looked like The Borg but not in a good way. I immediately blocked that thought - just in case they could read my mind. Only a dork could recall 10 year old Star Trek episodes and try to apply it to real life.

It was not the best night sleep and it wasn't the worst but I am looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight, under my own gaudy bedspread, with my gal who looks like a bull with a nose ring. What did you say? I can't hear you. I have little wax balls in my ears. Good Night everyone.

She Scrubs Me Like A Rock of Ages

It seems that there is nothing seriously wrong with my heart except when I wear it on my sleeve or when it bleeds because I am a liberal. My echo report did show that little regurge thing but she is pumping along just fine. Doing what needs to be done & in a very competent way. The Dr said I was not the easiest patient to perform the test on because I am "big chested." I thought that was funny & something your middle school gym teacher might say when its time to start wearing a sports bra.

So, we are moving on to another theory which involved a thyroid blood test (again) & wearing a holter monitor for 24 hours. At first I thought the Dr said "halter" and that brought memories of being 14 and actually being able to wear a halter top. I don't think I ever wore one though. It would have clashed with my earth shoes, white painters pants & skateboard.

A holter monitor is a mobile EKG machine & it looks like something the cable guy would use to get your DVD player to communicate with your surround sound system. It has 5 lead wires that snap into suction cups that are glued to various points on your upper body. The wires are attached to a little black box that you stick in your pocket so it does not dangle around your knees. This is really not a problem if your pants have pockets, but going to the bathroom requires some forethought about making sure you remove the little box from your pocket before commencing to sit.

I was instructed to go about my normal routine and when I felt a blurp or flutter I was to write down the time and what I was doing. I had a idea. This could be a once in a life time thing - to see a printout of how hard your heart beats during hoochie. But since the Dr said to follow my normal routine & who has hoochie on a Wednesday (that's what Thursdays are for), I did not follow through on that. Plus, I'd be embarrassed to have written the word "sex"on the chart. For some reason I could not do that but I can write about it in my blog.

I also thought about provoking a fight with Lynne to see what that might look on a printout too but we did not have a fight until later the following evening, hours after the monitor came off (by the way, its my opinion that I did not provoke the aforementioned fight). So it was a typical uneventful day but I did find that I pretty much palpitate all day long. Probably, I don't palpitate during hoochie or when fighting but we'll never know that now will we?

All in all, wearing the monitor for 24 hours was not a bad experience. The worst is getting the glue off of your body. After much scrubbing on my own for a day and a half with little results, I asked Lynne for help (we were done fighting at that point). She took a pumice stone to a couple of spots. That's love.

My Heart Spits Up

Well, there you have it. My diagnosis is.... Wait, I've got to find the paper with the words written on it because I butcher it every time I have to say it. Which is in a sense a shout out to my mother who when I told her said, "Well, it might be generic." She meant genetic. That reminds me of when I told her I was a lesbian. She said, "Well, I know its nothing I did wrong because I learned on Phil Donahue that you were born that way, it's generic." I should have "Yes, Mom, I am a generic lesbian. You can tell because I am covered in a plain black & white label with a bar code across my forehead. Not top shelf but I taste just as good & I've got a good long shelf life & who needs a fancy label anyway." That was a 18 years or so ago and for anyone under 40 reading this, Phil Donahue paved the way for Oprah and for anyone who knows my Dad, he kinda looks Phil because he went prematurely gray too, which I am told is also genetic & so I can thank Dad for that too. See, its all spookily connected.

I have a mild mitral and tricuspid regurgitation or in medical slang, mitral regurge. Lynne said that means my heart spits up or something along that line. I am not sure those were her exact words but its close. This caused me to laugh. I guess when you have anything "mild" you are informed by mail - like I was along with a checked box that says "Schedule an appointment for review of results and/or follow-up evaluation." Should I conclude that it's not serious because I did not receive a frantic call to go to the hospital for open heart surgery? Maybe I'll ask Lynne to shore up the floppy tricuspid valve with some duct tape. I actually like the shiny silver tape she used on the furnace heat runs a little better. That would be kinda pretty.

The March That Was

I have to say that I am glad to be looking back at March 2010. It was one rough month. I have been thinking of the phrase - what does not kill you makes you stronger. Not that anything that happened this month was going to kill me, its just that if we really knew what we were in for on a particular day we might just go back to bed and avoid the whole damn thing. The universe is tricky that way.

I feel like you do after a break up. You know, where you want to feel better about life and you know you will but you can not hurry the process and you can not see into the future to the exact moment when you realize you are not thinking about your ex & then you realize - oh, this pain has eased and I can actually imagine a day without thoughts about them. Then you begin to realize that you might actually flourish in a way you had not envisioned before because your life was different. Then that is what a happens and you look back and say "phew, that was some journey"

There are a lot of emotional loose strings floating around me and I am not certain which ones to grab. I feel sad about the merger. I feel sad about losing my boss of 14 years. I feel sad about my relationship with my parents. I feel sad about being middle aged. Then I am thankful for a partner I love & who I know who loves me back. I am thankful for my friends. I am thankful for all the hugs I got and gave over the last week. I am thankful for the all that I have learned in my 46 years. I am thankful for being employed, for my tax return, health insurance (that includes therapy), a smart & loving kid who is graduating from college in May. Well, that could go on and on so I think this means in the end I am coming out ahead.