Bean Hollow

On February 9, 2011, we took a drive down Hwy One.  Suddenly, almost 15 miles outside of Pescadero, we smelled burning breaks, so Leslie turned off the road onto what turned out to be the Bean Hollow rest area and Beach.  The right back tire and hub cab had smoke pouring out of it, and it was so hot you couldn't touch it.  Both Leslie and I saw sparks behind the tire, as well.

Leslie got on the phone with AAA, and the representative she spoke to initially couldn't find us on the map. "What do you MEAN you can't find us?"  Leslie wasn't happy.  They also gave the tow truck the wrong address citing Bean Hollow Road as opposed to the Bean Hollow exit, not understanding how these things work off Hwy One.  So, even though Leslie managed to connect with a decent AAA rep, we sat in the car, worrying, and watched the tow truck haul ass at 70 miles per hour on the highway right on by us.  Leslie called back and despite being righteously stressed out, she managed to straighten it out.  Finally a guy named Frank showed up.  He was from a towing company in Pescadero, and he was kind enough to pull the tire so we could see what was going on behind it.  When he jacked the car up, Elizabeth and I had to get out of the car.  It was 46 degrees and dropping as the sun set, and of course no one had a jacket.  All three of us were absolutely freezing.  The two dogs were in the car, too, naturally, so we were worried about getting home.  The tow truck had room for only one person in the cab, and taxi's don't generally appreciate taking dogs.

We couldn't find any evidence of a problem.  No dust, no darkness, no evidence of burning.  It was quite strange.  So, Leslie and Frank decided we'd drive the 14 miles North back to Pescadero, and if nothing happened, we'd go on toward Half Moon Bay and then Pacifica, which at that point was just over the hill.

We made the trip with no issues.  Absolutely no trouble whatsoever.  But my, we were glad to be home when we got there!  There is nothing quite like your cozy house after a stressful and absolutely freezing afternoon.

Leslie took the van to the dealer on Monday, and they pulled the back wheel and breaks apart looking for a problem.  They found nothing.  Near as we can figure, something got stuck in there.  Something metal enough to cause scraping and sparks, and something tough enough to withstand all that road time.

We chalk it up as another mystery in an already mysterious world.

View the rest of the pictures taken at Bean Hollow on Flicker right here.

A Lesson Learned the Hard Way

Yesterday I learned a valuable lesson the hard way.

Day before yesterday, I was in the zone cleaning the house.  It felt so good to work with the energy in our home and take care of things I either didn’t have the energy or desire to do previously. 

What I didn’t do all day is take enough water.

I woke up at 6 a.m. yesterday, which is the usual time, to encourage Elizabeth out of bed.  Then, I went back to bed until 7, when Elizabeth is ready to go downstairs.

I woke up at 7 and was absolutely freezing.  My body has hot and cold swings since the vertical gastrectomy (weight loss surgery), and it’s primarily because I’ve lost weight quickly.  But yesterday morning, my coldness was off the charts, even worse when my hormones were rearranging after I had Elizabeth in 1997.  I was chattering so intensely, I couldn’t move.  Finally, after a good 10 minutes of trying, I managed to get up, get downstairs, and put myself on the big chair in the living room. I was exhausted and thought I had a relapse of the flu.

I spent the morning sleeping on and off, but what I couldn’t comprehend was that I wasn’t making sense all the time.  Leslie would ask me a question, and I mumbled the answer.  Not normal.  I was also running a fever of 103 degrees, which Tylenol couldn’t seem to bring down efficiently, and as you know, I can’t take non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs. 

Leslie got that urgent look in her eyes, and took over the situation.  We called the doctor, and a nurse told Leslie to get me to the emergency room. I argued with Leslie, but she was adamant. So I put myself together and off we went.

While in the waiting area at Mills Peninsula, I actually passed out.  First my ears began ringing, and then I had to go to the bathroom.  They put me on a wheel chair, but once I got to the restroom, I was lolling about like a rag doll.  I actually lost consciousness. Scary for me, but it was really scary for Leslie, who yelled for help.

We were put in a room finally and waited forty minutes for a doctor.  I wasn't aware of the time, however, because I slept most of the time.  It’s like I was in a trance. They took my blood (I was acutely aware of this), and tested me for influenza (which was a q-tip shoved so far up my nose, it was ridiculous, creepy, and felt dreadful), and they hooked me up to an IV.  I argued about that, too, but Leslie insisted, thank God.  The lady from the lab remembered me from when I had my surgery and refused to have my blood drawn.  Everyone got a chuckle out of that.

Once my body had the fluids it needed, I began to sharpen up.

The lab results showed that I’m still slightly anemic which means I have to take that god awful iron elixir every day again.  My white blood cells were also elevated indicating there’s a mild infection somewhere. However, what was absolutely clear was that I allowed myself to get dehydrated, hence the altered state of consciousness and the intense sleeping.

You know, I had a clue about this about a month ago.  I was in the mall with my family.  Elizabeth was spending her Christmas money.  I began to feel very dizzy.  I didn’t take enough water then either.

The lesson here is that I can’t take my body for granted like I could when I was a kid.  I must ensure I take enough water every day, even when I’m “in the zone”.  And I must take my iron and all my vitamins religiously. 

A person can’t lose weight this quickly and ignore the body’s needs.

If you do, the body will protest.

Loudly.

Amma Must Be Due, Because I'm a Mess

Life has been moving 90 miles an hour since my unemployment ran out unexpectedly in September (yes, I’m still tripping on that).  That’s not to assume no good things have happened, because they have.  My weight loss is steady since weight loss surgery in June (84 pounds down), I've been published with a by-line more than once in the local paper, Elizabeth is doing well in school, and Leslie is still cooking up a storm.  Despite various stress related twitches, we’re all more or less healthy.  Yet, keeping on top of home finances without busting a vein has been a challenge.

Initially, I was focused on finding work, and of course, I wanted full time work.  It wasn't happening, particularly that close to the holidays.  Thanks to previously blogged guardian angels, I got two part time jobs that I continue to be very grateful for.  They are both temporary positions I expect to wrap up by the end of March, although there has always been uncertainty around one of them. 

I was determined to get through Christmas on a good note because it’s important to me.  Not because I’m religious in the conventional sense, but for other more personal reasons.  I needed to provide my family with a decent holiday, and I was anxious about it. It wasn't a materialistic one, but it was meaningful.  Both Elizabeth and Leslie were happy and appreciative, and our little tree was the most beautiful we've had in years. I totally fell in love with it.

I've done a lot of worrying over the last four months, which isn't me.  I'm not the worrier in the family.  I'm usually confident it'll turn out alright (whatever it is) and cool with waiting to see what happens.

Lately I've been unable to see that far, if you know what I mean.

Leslie, Elizabeth and I were out last Sunday evening, and, as I was walking around, I felt normal one moment and super funky, I mean really down low, the next.  I thought my hormones were acting up, as though perhaps it was “that time in a woman’s life” (and, by the way, it more or less is, although I like to think I’m being graceful about it).  The melt-down I had the end of the night was inevitable because I tried to push through it, when I should have rested.

The next morning I woke up with my muscles stuck to the mattress, sick as a dog. The whole day was about staying hydrated so I wouldn't end up in the hospital.

Yesterday, I felt much better, but not well enough to go to work.  Still, I tagged along with Leslie on an appointment to get some fresh air. I waited for her in the car. It was the first time in months I've had a quiet hour to myself.  So there I was in the van, jotting down my thoughts on a pad and watching the people go by.  

Finally, I was able to think.

All this worry I'm doing challenges me on a basic and personal level. My last experience with corporate wasn't a good one. It was more like the polar opposite of good, or like getting a root canal that lasts a year. However, despite the personal cost and the anxiety, it gave me a way to take care of my family.  Now, as it becomes increasingly difficult to live on part-time jobs, I find myself longing for the consistency of regular full-time corporate employment.  The alternative, be it writing or another part-time job, just isn't coming through, and that isn't acceptable. 

As Leslie says, "You need to jump back into it." 

How's that for ironic.

My spiritual mother, Sri Karunamayi, is due in the Bay Area in mid-March, the same general time my temporary jobs are supposed to wrap up.  I'm convinced it’s no coincidence that these insecurities around being a provider and corporate work break out of their little cages just as Amma’s visit approaches.  It’s happened this way before.  The spiritually minded believe these things happen the way they do to highlight what we most need to work on in the presence of the masters. 

Well, I definitely get the message.  

Amma must be due, because I'm a big, nervous, worried mess.

Will writing save us again?

I woke up with anxiety today, and I’m not used to this outside of Corporate. I think all the economic nonsense we’ve been through is making me gun shy. I’m still at the gallery, but the gal I’m covering for could be back in a month. And there is only one more semester of college papers before school is out.

Then what?

I called my old boss right after Christmas because I didn’t have her address and couldn’t send her a card.  I wanted to see how she was. She was let go before I was, and then in the following months her husband was laid off of his job, as well, leaving them with one quarter of their previous income.  In our conversation, she mentioned her husband went to a seminar wherein a speaker described the working landscape in Europe as being full of contractors.  People there take a succession of temporary or part-time jobs.  This, of course, eliminates both on-boarding and benefits costs to companies. 

I wonder what it’s done to the workforce.  I know what's it's doing to me.

How do you avoid worrying about where the next job will come from?

I keep hoping, wishing and hoping, that all this writing I’m doing will amount to something. My last press release was published in the Pacifica Tribune with a by-line. That’s my second by-line for the Trib. I’ve got another article coming up this week, too.  And the work I’m doing for the AGP blog gets compliments from everyone.  I’m knee deep in my novel, too, although I’ve done numerous re-writes and changed the title.  Soon, I’ll be ready for Book 2.

I love to do art, and I have a really cool idea for the next AGP exhibition, but my writing is what saves me, I think.

Wouldn’t it be nice if it saved us this time?

BLANK WALLS AND INSPIRATION

Life has a funny way of pushing me around.  It’s been like that since I was a kid. There are times when I feel like I’m in control, but clearly at other times (like now) someone or something else is at the helm. Control is an illusion, but every once in a while, I get a hint of things to come. 

When we first moved into Pacifica, we’d drive up and down Linda Mar Boulevard. Each time we did, we went past the Sanchez Art Center.  At night, the neon ART sign was on, and I was attracted to it like a moth.  Why?

Well, now I’m working there part time and indulging my curiosity. I’m also working in a way that beneficially combines my facilities experience, my writing, and my art.  I’m learning about operating the building full of art studios.  I’m doing publicity and writing press releases. And soon I’ll learn more about marketing and putting an exhibition together.  These are all compelling subjects that take my creativity to the next level while enhancing my knowledge.

I don’t regret a moment spent in Corporate. The private sector treated me well and gave me professional confidence.  I had our daughter while in private sector, and Leslie had quite a few serious surgeries, too.  None of them cost us a dime.

Now, it seems Corporate has turned its back on me. In the past, getting a job was so easy, and done in just a few weeks after moving cross country. I’ve submitted up to seven resumes on-line a week for almost two years, and have been on only two interviews.  When I lost my unemployment unexpectedly (another story altogether), and put out an S.O.S., two jobs emerged through friends.  Both revolve around my writing. In fact, I’ve been published with a by-line in the local paper.  I even have a writing resume now, which is totally cool.  Life is steering me in a new direction, and it is exciting.

Truth to tell, I don’t want to go back into corporate full time.  It pays very well, but I find it oppressive.  The last job I had nearly tore me apart as I waited to be let go.  Naturally, working in non-profit doesn’t pay as well, but it nurtures my spirit. As I approach my mid-century mark, I need this as much as I needed weight loss surgery.

Last week, I walked through the dark, empty halls at Sanchez Art Center, and I felt completely in the moment.  The Center is between exhibitions, so nothing is up on the walls.  It was a symbolic slice of time carved out of the continuum just for me. Every dark doorway was a possibility, and every blank wall was an inspiration.

I embrace where I am right now, and I want to see what’s behind each and every door.  I want to explore each facet of my creativity, and every career opportunity that knocks.

I want this change.