WOW! Has it really been a month since I have posted?? Holy Cow! I can't believe it, where has the summer gone? Emily came back from Germany, had a great time and wants to go back. We went to a family reunion, had a 4th of July celebration over at my sister Nancy's, started renovating Donna's house next door for Allison and Jason to move out here, started the interview process and hired someone to work in the lab at work with me, and started getting serious about sending Emily off to Mines.
One of the things that makes it hard to believe that it has been a month since I posted is that I am forever writing blogs in my head. Especially while I am driving, I have so many conversations in my head that I want to post here, but by the time I get home from work I either don't have the energy or the time. In retrospect, many times that is a good thing because the blogs I really want to write I would end up having to take off because my Mom would make me.
The other reason I haven't blogged very much is that I haven't exactly felt 100% for a while, not really sure why. I went to my doctor's office and had to see another doctor because mine wasn't in that day, and he immediately informed me that I had West Nile, he was pretty insistent actually. Turns out that I don't, but it doesn't explain some of the symptoms I have been having. It is probably "Not ready to send my daughter off to college, not enough hours in the day for either work or home, trying to get a bunch of things all accomplished at the same time -itis".
That is more that likely it, so I will just have to power through...
In the mean time, here are a few blogs that I did manage to remember composing in my swiss cheese brain...enjoy!
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Family Reunion
About two weeks ago I went to an RE Whiting Family reunion. My Aunt Nellie's family was in charge and we had it at a campground just above Beaver. It was a great location and the reunion went really well. I would like to post some pictures, but I forgot my camera. So you will just have to imagine a large number of Whiting family members camping and playing horseshoes and volleyball. This location had the additional bonus of canoes and a lake, even Aunt Lois went for a ride in one.
Once again, my branch of the family managed to lose in the championship round of both volleyball and horseshoes (except for the women's). Volleyball was understandable, after all, we had Jay, Scott, Me, Jackie, and Sam on our team (all over the age 30), and we were playing the much younger generation of my Uncle Lester's grandchildren. We did manage to go three games, but in the end we lost. Horseshoes received partial credit because my niece Allison managed to win the women's division with my Uncle Jerry's granddaughter-in-law. Men's horseshoes however, have continued to elude my family. There appears to be some sort of curse on my Dad and his progeny concerning horseshoe championships. Back in the day, my Dad (who was an awesome horseshoe player, of course) always ended up paired against a cousin-in-law named Jack Cooper at the big family reunions. It didn't matter if it was in the beginning brackets or the championships, it didn't matter who they paired with for their partners, my Dad always lost to Jack Cooper. Now that torch has been passed to my brother-in-law and nephew, Jay and Jason. It doesn't matter how many years they go, the teams they end up going against may come and go, but in the end...they just can't quite pull it off. And will this keep us from competing next time? ....no..
Unless you have actually planned a family reunion, you really can't appreciate the amount of work that goes into one. Especially a Whiting Family reunion. We don't just meet in the park one afternoon for a potluck. No, that isn't how it goes. Whiting's require themes, multi-day events, large productions for the Saturday night program, facilities that accommodate both the very ancient (Harriets, Lois, Uncle Jerrys, etc) and young families with no money. Reunions must be centrally located, in the summer and at locations that are not the same temperature as the surface of the sun. They must have a way of raising capital that allows the newer incomes to pay less and the older incomes to "help" without asking them. There must be room for regulation volleyball nets and at least 4 horseshoe pits. To say this is complex is putting it mildly.
Next time it is my family's turn. We are already having planning meetings, projects are being determined, raffle items being made.
But the truth of the matter is that I don't really like family reunions. I'm not all that fond of a lot of my relatives, nor do I have the overwhelming urge to catch up with them. It's OK, I don't think a lot of them actually like me either. But, I'm a Whiting, and over riding the bah hum bug attitude is the tradition gene. So regardless of whether I actually enjoy it, I will do it, and I will do it big. Because that is who I am! (Begin singing the song "Tradition" from Fiddler on The Roof here in your mind).
Once again, my branch of the family managed to lose in the championship round of both volleyball and horseshoes (except for the women's). Volleyball was understandable, after all, we had Jay, Scott, Me, Jackie, and Sam on our team (all over the age 30), and we were playing the much younger generation of my Uncle Lester's grandchildren. We did manage to go three games, but in the end we lost. Horseshoes received partial credit because my niece Allison managed to win the women's division with my Uncle Jerry's granddaughter-in-law. Men's horseshoes however, have continued to elude my family. There appears to be some sort of curse on my Dad and his progeny concerning horseshoe championships. Back in the day, my Dad (who was an awesome horseshoe player, of course) always ended up paired against a cousin-in-law named Jack Cooper at the big family reunions. It didn't matter if it was in the beginning brackets or the championships, it didn't matter who they paired with for their partners, my Dad always lost to Jack Cooper. Now that torch has been passed to my brother-in-law and nephew, Jay and Jason. It doesn't matter how many years they go, the teams they end up going against may come and go, but in the end...they just can't quite pull it off. And will this keep us from competing next time? ....no..
Unless you have actually planned a family reunion, you really can't appreciate the amount of work that goes into one. Especially a Whiting Family reunion. We don't just meet in the park one afternoon for a potluck. No, that isn't how it goes. Whiting's require themes, multi-day events, large productions for the Saturday night program, facilities that accommodate both the very ancient (Harriets, Lois, Uncle Jerrys, etc) and young families with no money. Reunions must be centrally located, in the summer and at locations that are not the same temperature as the surface of the sun. They must have a way of raising capital that allows the newer incomes to pay less and the older incomes to "help" without asking them. There must be room for regulation volleyball nets and at least 4 horseshoe pits. To say this is complex is putting it mildly.
Next time it is my family's turn. We are already having planning meetings, projects are being determined, raffle items being made.
But the truth of the matter is that I don't really like family reunions. I'm not all that fond of a lot of my relatives, nor do I have the overwhelming urge to catch up with them. It's OK, I don't think a lot of them actually like me either. But, I'm a Whiting, and over riding the bah hum bug attitude is the tradition gene. So regardless of whether I actually enjoy it, I will do it, and I will do it big. Because that is who I am! (Begin singing the song "Tradition" from Fiddler on The Roof here in your mind).
Take it like a Man
I have been thinking a lot about men in our society lately. Maybe it was because while in an interview for another lab rat recently, a male applicant randomly said, "I don't have a problem working with women"...uhmmm...that's not a big red flag.
So what's the deal with men? Back in the day we adored a Man's Man. Appreciated his masculinity, now we want "sensitive males" WHAT??? I can assure you that was never on my list of top 5 attributes.
Recently Scott was watching the old MY TV channel that shows 1970's nasty shows, and MASH came on. "I hate MASH I told him, all Alan Alda does is cry. Why can't he take war like a man? Such a stinking coward" Sure enough, half way through the first segment....wahwahwah!
I blame MASH partially for the neuterification of our current crop of males. Among other things, such as the feminist movement of the 1970's, the welfare program, society's acceptance of single mothers, and not allowing boys to play with guns.
You see, after Alan Alda's portrayal, women embraced the sensitive male as the epitome of a desirable male. Never wondering if they paired with him who would hunt for their meals during the great economic melt down.
Then there is that stupid feminist movement of the 1970's. HELLO!! women are not the same as men, we are not designed the same as men, and while we should be paid the same as men for the same job, we are definitely wired differently. With the feminist movement we managed to convince women that men were really not necessary. The welfare program? With Uncle Sam footing the bill, there really isn't a need for the man's paycheck. Then telling women that is OK to keep babies in a single home? making it totally acceptable makes women value men even less. Then we tell little boys that guns are not to be played with, are dangerous, and we even get mad at them for playing "violent" games at school, this was the final nail in the coffin for masculine men.
Now we have punk boys running around without any role models. They have no idea what being a man really is about, they don't know how to work, they don't know how to open a door, and they sure don't know how to step up.
I know women that have so completely neutered their husbands that the men are unsure when and if they can go to the bathroom. I swear these men are so timid they flinch. Then the women complain, "I just want him to man up." "Why doesn't he take some initiative". Seriously??? Give him back his testicles!!
So what's the deal with men? Back in the day we adored a Man's Man. Appreciated his masculinity, now we want "sensitive males" WHAT??? I can assure you that was never on my list of top 5 attributes.
Recently Scott was watching the old MY TV channel that shows 1970's nasty shows, and MASH came on. "I hate MASH I told him, all Alan Alda does is cry. Why can't he take war like a man? Such a stinking coward" Sure enough, half way through the first segment....wahwahwah!
I blame MASH partially for the neuterification of our current crop of males. Among other things, such as the feminist movement of the 1970's, the welfare program, society's acceptance of single mothers, and not allowing boys to play with guns.
You see, after Alan Alda's portrayal, women embraced the sensitive male as the epitome of a desirable male. Never wondering if they paired with him who would hunt for their meals during the great economic melt down.
Then there is that stupid feminist movement of the 1970's. HELLO!! women are not the same as men, we are not designed the same as men, and while we should be paid the same as men for the same job, we are definitely wired differently. With the feminist movement we managed to convince women that men were really not necessary. The welfare program? With Uncle Sam footing the bill, there really isn't a need for the man's paycheck. Then telling women that is OK to keep babies in a single home? making it totally acceptable makes women value men even less. Then we tell little boys that guns are not to be played with, are dangerous, and we even get mad at them for playing "violent" games at school, this was the final nail in the coffin for masculine men.
Now we have punk boys running around without any role models. They have no idea what being a man really is about, they don't know how to work, they don't know how to open a door, and they sure don't know how to step up.
I know women that have so completely neutered their husbands that the men are unsure when and if they can go to the bathroom. I swear these men are so timid they flinch. Then the women complain, "I just want him to man up." "Why doesn't he take some initiative". Seriously??? Give him back his testicles!!
Things you won't find me doing...
A few months ago I was sitting with a lady at church that has known me since I was born, she appreciates me shoe issues. Anyway, we saw someone wearing flip flops and she said, "If I ever catch you wearing those to church, I'll slap you." So I started thinking about all the things you will (hopefully) never see me doing..
Cheering "Go Cougars"
Ordering a grilled chicken breast
Not wearing nylons to church
Pouting with duck lips, sticking out my butt, taking a picture and posting it on Facebook
Going to Wal-Mart in my slippers
Willingly going to a Leonardo DiCaprio movie (yup, I'm the only one in the world that has never seen Titanic)
Wearing a headband
Attending Country Jam
Advertising Aeropastale across my chest
Bragging on FB about how absolutely awesome my "hubs" is
Not decorating for Christmas
Attempting to grow a garden
And of course, NEVER wearing flip flops to church.
I'm sure there are a lot more things I can think of, I'll be sure to share when I think of them.
Cheering "Go Cougars"
Ordering a grilled chicken breast
Not wearing nylons to church
Pouting with duck lips, sticking out my butt, taking a picture and posting it on Facebook
Going to Wal-Mart in my slippers
Willingly going to a Leonardo DiCaprio movie (yup, I'm the only one in the world that has never seen Titanic)
Wearing a headband
Attending Country Jam
Advertising Aeropastale across my chest
Bragging on FB about how absolutely awesome my "hubs" is
Not decorating for Christmas
Attempting to grow a garden
And of course, NEVER wearing flip flops to church.
I'm sure there are a lot more things I can think of, I'll be sure to share when I think of them.
Monday, June 10, 2013
NSA
I used to keep a journal, when I was a teenager. My parents never kept a journal, and other than on Grandpa Whiting’s mission, I don’t think any of my grand parents did either. I admit that I don’t keep a journal now, at all. I just can’t believe that my life is that interesting. So I was excited this week when it was announced that thanks to the NSA and all the data mining that they have been doing on the American people, I don’t need to!! Imagine that in 100 years from now my descendents will only need to get a freedom of information act request and they will be able to know all my emails, text messages, phone contacts, conversations, credit card purchases, travel information, and facebook quotes!!! HAHA…no worries, big brother is looking out for me!! THANKS NSA
Take a Deep Breath...
No, I mean take a really deep breath, the kind you can feel all the way to your toes. How does that feel? To me it feels amazing, because ten years ago I couldn’t do that. So, here is the story of my throat (sounds fascinating doesn’t it!).
About 12 years ago I started having some problems and went to my gynecologist. After the examination he escorted me to his office, told me that I had a large tumor on my right ovary, and we scheduled surgery for two days later. The surgery was a success the 8-pound tumor benign, and everything seemed to be great. As I was groggily coming out of the anesthesia, I do vaguely remember a person in a white lab coat chastising me about something to do with my throat and that is wasn’t his fault. A day or two later I was shown up to the offices of Dr. Trowbridge, an otolaryngologist, or ENT dr. as they are known. Unbeknownst to me, my trachea had a naturally narrow spot just below my vocal cords, while I was being intubated for the surgery; the anesthesiologist forced the tube and scratched my throat. After a CT scan, I was told not to worry about it; it probably wasn’t a big deal. It was called Sub-glottis Stenosis
I went home, recovered from the surgery. Everything seemed to be fine, except for a little nagging cough and being out of breath a little bit. A year later my breathing was pretty tough, but I figured I was pretty heavy and out of shape so that was probably it. Finally, I went to the doctor again. They scoped my throat (a pleasant experience that was destined to become routine) and discovered that scar tissue had seriously formed in my trachea. Dr. Trowbridge explained that he could go in from the inside and clean it out (kind of like roto-roter).
I had my first surgery in July of 2002 for my throat. They had scheduled me to be on a ventilator and in ICU for several days afterward, but I recovered so well that I only ended up staying in there for a day. I figured all was good, Scott retired in August, and I got pregnant right about that time as well.
In October my breathing became difficult again, I went back to Dr. Trowbridge who assured me that after the first tri-mester surgery would be acceptable. I had surgery in late October, but by November my breathing was bad again. It was November that I had surgery again, which was when we discovered that I had miscarried. I made it to the beginning of January, then it was bad again. I went in again, but every time the scar tissue came back, clogging up my trachea even faster than it had the last time. I ended up having my throat routered out 8 times. There were nights when I had so much trouble breathing; I would make Scott take me into the ER because I was afraid that if I fell asleep, I wouldn’t wake up. There were times they said I was breathing through the equivalent of a soda straw.
Everytime I went into the hospital and everywhere that I went in the hospital (like x-ray, or the lab) there was a blue bundle that went with me. At first I didn’t pay very much attention to it. It looked like blue lab towels wrapped with masking tape that I recognized as exposed autoclave tape. When I finally thought to ask about the blue bundle I was told it was a trach kit, in case I suddenly couldn’t breath at all and needed to have a tracheotomy….great.
Finally, Dr. Trowbridge had had enough, the cleaning of my trachea was only lasting about two weeks. He decided that he would try going in from outside, and take about an inch of my trachea out. The surgery was extremely delicate, and required 4 hours of OR time, and a plastic surgeon. It was scheduled for Friday, June 13th, 2003. Not that I was superstitious or anything!! It was the soonest that they could get an OR for that amount of time. The day of the surgery we ended up delaying for about an hour while we waited for Fed-Ex to deliver a specific surgical instrument that he had ordered. But after lots of prayers and fasting the surgery went amazingly well. I woke up in ICU, and after a couple days there and a couple days in telemetry I was able to go home.
I felt pretty good, even took the kids up camping a week or so later. That was a huge mistake. I got a fever and it turned out my incision was infected, so I lay there in the middle of the night; in a tent; a severe fever; a swollen incision that burst; and a flat tire on the truck outside. I didn’t want Scott to know how sick I was, because he had already been through so much, so I waited until the next morning to tell him how bad I was. We got off the mountain, dropped the kids off and headed back into the hospital. Not only was my incision infected but scar tissue had formed on the inside of my trachea again. I was immediately placed in CCU, and then the decision was made that tomorrow they would do a tracheotomy, let my throat heal for a few months and make a decision after that.
I have to say the idea of walking around with a tracheotomy was horrifying to me. I couldn’t even imagine what that was going to be like. And through it all, there sat that blue bundle, staring at me. That night my family and I prayed all night. The next morning my nurse (who also happened to be LDS) came into my room to start prepping me for surgery. I started coughing really bad and suddenly coughed up a huge gob of goo. I used a tissue to wipe it out of my mouth, and realized that I could suddenly breath. I looked at the nurse, she looked at me and we both had the realization that I wasn’t going to need a tracheotomy that day. When I talked to my surgeon, he asked what had happened, after I told him the story, I told him that I had been praying all night, he told me that he had too.
Prayers were answered and I haven’t had any trouble with my throat since that day. It was ten years ago, and I try everyday to take one big breath and thank my Heavenly Father for that ability.
About 12 years ago I started having some problems and went to my gynecologist. After the examination he escorted me to his office, told me that I had a large tumor on my right ovary, and we scheduled surgery for two days later. The surgery was a success the 8-pound tumor benign, and everything seemed to be great. As I was groggily coming out of the anesthesia, I do vaguely remember a person in a white lab coat chastising me about something to do with my throat and that is wasn’t his fault. A day or two later I was shown up to the offices of Dr. Trowbridge, an otolaryngologist, or ENT dr. as they are known. Unbeknownst to me, my trachea had a naturally narrow spot just below my vocal cords, while I was being intubated for the surgery; the anesthesiologist forced the tube and scratched my throat. After a CT scan, I was told not to worry about it; it probably wasn’t a big deal. It was called Sub-glottis Stenosis
I went home, recovered from the surgery. Everything seemed to be fine, except for a little nagging cough and being out of breath a little bit. A year later my breathing was pretty tough, but I figured I was pretty heavy and out of shape so that was probably it. Finally, I went to the doctor again. They scoped my throat (a pleasant experience that was destined to become routine) and discovered that scar tissue had seriously formed in my trachea. Dr. Trowbridge explained that he could go in from the inside and clean it out (kind of like roto-roter).
I had my first surgery in July of 2002 for my throat. They had scheduled me to be on a ventilator and in ICU for several days afterward, but I recovered so well that I only ended up staying in there for a day. I figured all was good, Scott retired in August, and I got pregnant right about that time as well.
In October my breathing became difficult again, I went back to Dr. Trowbridge who assured me that after the first tri-mester surgery would be acceptable. I had surgery in late October, but by November my breathing was bad again. It was November that I had surgery again, which was when we discovered that I had miscarried. I made it to the beginning of January, then it was bad again. I went in again, but every time the scar tissue came back, clogging up my trachea even faster than it had the last time. I ended up having my throat routered out 8 times. There were nights when I had so much trouble breathing; I would make Scott take me into the ER because I was afraid that if I fell asleep, I wouldn’t wake up. There were times they said I was breathing through the equivalent of a soda straw.
Everytime I went into the hospital and everywhere that I went in the hospital (like x-ray, or the lab) there was a blue bundle that went with me. At first I didn’t pay very much attention to it. It looked like blue lab towels wrapped with masking tape that I recognized as exposed autoclave tape. When I finally thought to ask about the blue bundle I was told it was a trach kit, in case I suddenly couldn’t breath at all and needed to have a tracheotomy….great.
Finally, Dr. Trowbridge had had enough, the cleaning of my trachea was only lasting about two weeks. He decided that he would try going in from outside, and take about an inch of my trachea out. The surgery was extremely delicate, and required 4 hours of OR time, and a plastic surgeon. It was scheduled for Friday, June 13th, 2003. Not that I was superstitious or anything!! It was the soonest that they could get an OR for that amount of time. The day of the surgery we ended up delaying for about an hour while we waited for Fed-Ex to deliver a specific surgical instrument that he had ordered. But after lots of prayers and fasting the surgery went amazingly well. I woke up in ICU, and after a couple days there and a couple days in telemetry I was able to go home.
I felt pretty good, even took the kids up camping a week or so later. That was a huge mistake. I got a fever and it turned out my incision was infected, so I lay there in the middle of the night; in a tent; a severe fever; a swollen incision that burst; and a flat tire on the truck outside. I didn’t want Scott to know how sick I was, because he had already been through so much, so I waited until the next morning to tell him how bad I was. We got off the mountain, dropped the kids off and headed back into the hospital. Not only was my incision infected but scar tissue had formed on the inside of my trachea again. I was immediately placed in CCU, and then the decision was made that tomorrow they would do a tracheotomy, let my throat heal for a few months and make a decision after that.
I have to say the idea of walking around with a tracheotomy was horrifying to me. I couldn’t even imagine what that was going to be like. And through it all, there sat that blue bundle, staring at me. That night my family and I prayed all night. The next morning my nurse (who also happened to be LDS) came into my room to start prepping me for surgery. I started coughing really bad and suddenly coughed up a huge gob of goo. I used a tissue to wipe it out of my mouth, and realized that I could suddenly breath. I looked at the nurse, she looked at me and we both had the realization that I wasn’t going to need a tracheotomy that day. When I talked to my surgeon, he asked what had happened, after I told him the story, I told him that I had been praying all night, he told me that he had too.
Prayers were answered and I haven’t had any trouble with my throat since that day. It was ten years ago, and I try everyday to take one big breath and thank my Heavenly Father for that ability.
How I Learned to Love Nerds
When I was growing up, I always pictured myself marrying a cowboy, living in a farmhouse somewhere. After all, my vast knowledge of all things country living that I accumulated while growing up shouldn’t go to waste. Seriously…how many people do you know that know how to pull a calf, bottle feed it, dehorn it, brand it, castrate it, feed it out, and get it to the slaughterhouse? I knew and understood Colorado water rights law before I could drive, at the ripe old age of 12. I fully understand the nitrogen depleting properties of alfalfa, and how to rotate replacement heifers into your herd to keep the genetics fresh. I know how to ride a cutting horse and how to bail hay.
So of all the people in the world, it probably came as the biggest shock to me when I ended up falling in love and agreeing to marry a computer guy in the US Air Force. To say we had some cultural differences is putting it mildly. I understood football, he played lacrosse. I grew up LDS, he grew up learning how to tend bar at the family reunion. I grew up watching Gun Smoke, he watched The Avengers.
Yes, it took me several years to admit it to myself, and even more years to get him to admit it, but he’s kind of a nerd. Don’t get me wrong; he’s a cool nerd, but still a nerd. When we first got married, he introduced me to Star Trek TNG, not a bad show, and given the other choices on TV in Iceland, I learned to like it. But, I have never gotten the hang of a lot of other nerd choices, in entertainment or activities. Sadly, or maybe not, it has even effected our children. They know how to operate our television/satellite/blue-ray/surround sound – I don’t. They know how to get a lot more out of their laptops than I do; they understand Dr. Who, have a really bizarre sense of humor, they know what all the keys on their TI84 calculator do and a whole lot more.
But, at the end of the day I have come to realize that nerds rule the world. Yes, it’s a sad fact, but all of us rely on everyday items that started in the brain of a nerd. Nerds are not distracted by popularity while growing up, they don’t seem to waste a lot of time at the mall or you know…socializing. They rarely have to worry about too much sun damage or heat stroke. I admit it has taken me a long time, but I have learned to love and accept the pasty white, computer toting, non-socializing nerdiness that makes up my family. So here’s to the nerds I love! You should probably learn to love nerds too, or at least appreciate them; they probably are going to be your boss someday.
So of all the people in the world, it probably came as the biggest shock to me when I ended up falling in love and agreeing to marry a computer guy in the US Air Force. To say we had some cultural differences is putting it mildly. I understood football, he played lacrosse. I grew up LDS, he grew up learning how to tend bar at the family reunion. I grew up watching Gun Smoke, he watched The Avengers.
Yes, it took me several years to admit it to myself, and even more years to get him to admit it, but he’s kind of a nerd. Don’t get me wrong; he’s a cool nerd, but still a nerd. When we first got married, he introduced me to Star Trek TNG, not a bad show, and given the other choices on TV in Iceland, I learned to like it. But, I have never gotten the hang of a lot of other nerd choices, in entertainment or activities. Sadly, or maybe not, it has even effected our children. They know how to operate our television/satellite/blue-ray/surround sound – I don’t. They know how to get a lot more out of their laptops than I do; they understand Dr. Who, have a really bizarre sense of humor, they know what all the keys on their TI84 calculator do and a whole lot more.
But, at the end of the day I have come to realize that nerds rule the world. Yes, it’s a sad fact, but all of us rely on everyday items that started in the brain of a nerd. Nerds are not distracted by popularity while growing up, they don’t seem to waste a lot of time at the mall or you know…socializing. They rarely have to worry about too much sun damage or heat stroke. I admit it has taken me a long time, but I have learned to love and accept the pasty white, computer toting, non-socializing nerdiness that makes up my family. So here’s to the nerds I love! You should probably learn to love nerds too, or at least appreciate them; they probably are going to be your boss someday.
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