A bit late on the Fib bandwagon...

a little homage to my two year old nephew ....

He
said,
Hon-ney,
what is this
animal here?
Not an ostrich, I said laughing.

Storm Evacuees Found to Suffer Health Setbacks

Once again the New York Times has set me off.... [As usual, click the title of the entry to get to the NYT article]

Okay, so first of all, DUH?!?! Was there anyone (outside of the Bush administration) who thought things were rosy for the Katrina evacuees? Or even better, that perhaps they're doing even better now??? Oh right, when God closes a door, he opens a window. But when you start climbing in and out of windows, people mistake you for a burglar and that's just no good. Besides, what if it's a fifteenth floor window? What is God really saying? Give it up, buddy. Just jump!

But like anyone in public health and especially anyone who has worked in public health preparedness, I was disturbed by the all the people who, months after the disaster, are still without medical necessities. I drives me insane how so few people can latch onto that concept that there are actually people out there that need medication on a daily basis. I guess I've been in that position so long that it seems entirely reasonable to me. But most people just don't get it. There are people, LOTS of people, who actually need drugs, medical equipment, medical care, on an ongoing basis, not just once in a while. Why don't we expect that?

Which brings me back to preparedness. Of course nebulizers were going to be lost. Why would you have held onto something that required electricity when you hadn't seen electricity in weeks? And prescriptions and treatment, why did anyone think the medical establishment would remain consistent? Doctors are funny that way -- they actually consider themselves to be people and do crazy things like have families and in disasters or catastrophes (like when their homes are destroyed) they make their decisions based on the best interests of their families, not necessarily their patients. How wacky is that? If only we could set up some system of indentured servitude like Northern Exposure. Then, we could have our physicians where we wanted them. Of course I'm joking, for the most part. But where is the stockpile of medical equipment to replace what was lost in the storm and evacuation? Surely some medical corporation or conglomerate is in need of a good sized tax deduction and some positive publicity? And what about that medical corps of volunteers? Remember? We vaccinated them against smallpox and everything!! What, was this not enough of an emergency for them?

Wait, don't tell me. Our resources are stretched too thin to fight a war on two fronts ~ until we get out of Iraq we can't go into Louisiana? At the very least, Dick Cheney should be sending his $1.9 million tax REFUND to these folks. That would buy quite a bit of mental health treatment and insulin or even health insurance premiums if the government doesn't get it's act together and pony up some Medicaid benefits for these poor souls.

What? I sound like some bleeding heart liberal or even a socialist. Nah. I just tend to hold the government responsible for the predicament these people are in the first place. You can point your fingers at the Feds, the State, the locals, whoever. You do have ten fingers, after all. And there is more than enough blame to go around!!

So, yes, undisputed fact. We knew, EVERYONE knew, for like 100 years, that the levees could not handle a hurricane. Don't talk to me about dodging the hurricane, etc, etc. Water flows. That's not unexpected. We can even predict when and how high rivers will crest. (Aren't we smart?) So, no, the flooding was not a surprise, it was just a matter of time.

But the poor people, they had no transportation, no money for hotels, no place to go. They couldn't evacuate. Bull. Shit. I think Willie Brown, past Mayor of accident prone San Francisco, put it best when he was a guest on Bill Maher's show. He said that being Mayor is like being principal of an elementary school. When the fire alarm goes off, it's your responsibility to make sure everyone gets out. There were city buses, school buses and even Amtrak trains that could have been used to move people out of the city. There was no reason anyone needed their own transportation -- public transportation just gets retasked. And as far as hotels or family members to stay with, that didn't need to be an issue either. It's called a mutual aid agreement. Cities further inland open Red Cross shelters to take in evacuees. This is all standard protocol for the East Coast states where hurricanes regularly cause mandatory evacuations of coastal areas. Preparedness. It's not that difficult a concept. (Or at least it shouldn't be.... I suppose it doesn't really have a lot to do with horse shows, though?)

She's not really suggesting that hybrid cars don't come standard with moral superiority???

So, I read this article this morning in the online NYT. As the owner/driver of a hybrid vehicle, I was rightfully outraged.

Alright, so I did agree with her on some points. The whole hybrid SUV that gets marginally better mileage than say, a Lincoln Town Car, shouldn't be getting the kind of tax and other breaks that the truly efficient Insight, Prius or Civic get. But consider the kind of tax breaks the Hummer gets. It's size and weight qualify it as farm equipment, so if it's purchased for business use ~ say running a publicist or hair colorist from client to client in traffic clogged LA or Manhattan, ~ the purchaser can still avail him or herself of the same tax break (up to $100K) that a farmer (and I would really love to meet the farmer ~ of a product other than poppies or cocoa ~ who can afford a Hummer)that was meant to help American farmers utilize the advanced farm equipment that made their farms more efficient. I'm sure you've seen the Hummers with the tilling and harvesting features, no?

But back to me and my moral superiority... Feel free to demonize Lexus, but don't drag the rest of us down with the rich and status starved. I bought my Civic Hybrid after my 13 year old Honda Accord died on the side of the road. One of my closest friends from college, whose has a doctorate from Johns Hopkins, Department of Geology and Environmental Engineering, had a Prius already and loved it. (She was actually very excited when they passed an emissions standard in her county. She planned to stick around the service area while they attempted to run the emissions test on her car. She wanted to see how long it would take them to figure out that hybrids don't idle.) I'm a Honda person (my Civic is my third Honda) so I went with the Honda hybrid and I love it!! I've had it nearly two years now and I have very few complaints.

And, for the record my complaints are all rather frivolous ~ since the Civic Hybrid only has a CD player and no cassette, hooking my iPod into the car stereo was at first a little hinky with the early FM tuner technology and in colder climates the windshield wiper fluid lines freeze and do not defrost when you start running the car. The engine just doesn't get warm enough to melt them. This is easily solved by getting the wiper fluid that doesn't freeze or simply moving to a climate where nothing freezes. The battery also lives between the backseat and trunk, so forget about folding down the seats to create more trunk space. But, let's be honest, who buys a Civic for trunk space? When I moved halfway across the country a few months ago (and contrary to this article, I did get over 40 mpg on the highways!) people kept asking me if I was bringing this or that ~ usually a piece of furniture or some other large object ~ my response was always the same. What part of "moving in a Civic" do you not understand??

Yes, I am a scientist and an economist to boot. I realize that I will never actually recoup the extra money I spent for the hybrid engine, but the lessened cost to society as a whole entirely covers my extra expenses. Besides, how cool is it to only have to pump gas once a month?? And you never realize how ridiculously loud cars are until you spend time in a hybrid. One of my old neighbors didn't seem to have any acquaintances who possessed a muffler and it drove me nuts!! She probably considered me the crazy environmentalist nut in the Birkenstocks next door. But truth be told? After living in a bottle bill state for 4 years, I refused to recycle, just because I could.

Granted, you spend the first year or so driving a hybrid completely mesmerized by the charging and assisting bars and actually being able to see the gas mileage that you're getting right at that very moment! Unfortunately, it only goes up to 120 mpg, so even coasting down the largest hill you can't get the huge thrill of driving 400 mpg or something (Hope you're reading this Honda engineers....)

As for the moral superiority thing ~ that's strictly from West Wing, but I can't help but get a little obnoxious when I pass those big ass gas guzzling SUVs on the highway!! Especially, when my car is getting some ridiculously high mileage! Yeah, I feel morally superior, who would have thunk they could have packaged that in a car??

DNA testing for Genealogy

There's an article in today's New York Times ~ my favorite paper for those of you keeping track. It's all about the new use of DNA testing to identify a person's ethnic background. Dare I admit I'm intrigued?


I mentioned a while back when my grandmother died that her father was a bit of a mystery. I never knew him. His wife was 94 when she died and I was maybe 9. I've heard hundreds of stories about him and his use of scare tactics (mostly involving waving a broom) to coral cows (they're very easily startled) and I've seen what remains of his farm ~ the stone foundation of what must have been a tiny house and a little bit of a broken down barn. I don't know how he met my great grandmother. I don't know what kind of father he was to my grandmother or my great aunt Hazel or my great uncle George (who I honestly don't remember at all.) I know they were poor, that my grandmother married up into a family with a house in the village proper. She used to say "No one ever starves on a farm." But I always got the idea, even as a child, that her sentiment was meant to be ironic. There was a reason she went to work after eighth grade. I'd like to think, just like every other decision she made, that it was her choice. But like I said, I really know nothing about her father. If anyone is shrouded in myth, he is the one.

I do know the stories. My sister and I apparently got all our musical talent from him. He was a one man band ~ you know, with the harmonica and drum foot pedal and either key board or guitar. No one else in the family could play an instrument or sing even. I remember being told in complete seriousness that he had been dragged down from the mountain in ropes ~ a wild man brought into civilization against his will. But when I'd mention it again, I'd be told that it was just one of his stories. One thing I was told that no one denies is that he was a dowsey, a water witch. He used a Y shaped stick to find water for people to dig their wells. When I was I child, I'd play in the back yard with a stick to see if I had inherited his gift. I'm not sure what I expected to find ~ some undiscovered spring in the Boston suburbs?

But back to the original topic. One of the stronger myths, along with the water witch, was that he was part Mohegan, Iroquois. My grandfather collected Indian artifacts, which could be completely unrelated or not. He could have gotten his peace pipe from his father-in-law, I have no idea. But, if my DNA can tell me whether my great grand father actually was an Indian ~ can actually tell me if at least one of the stories is true. Isn't it worth it?

Do you ever get the feeling that you're just talking to yourself?

I constantly do.







I was just wondering if anyone else did....

You Have A Type A- Personality

You are one of the most balanced people around Motivated and focused, you are good at getting what you want You rule at success, but success doesn't rule you. When it's playtime, you really know how to kick back Whether it's hanging out with friends or doing something you love! You live life to the fullest - encorporating the best of both worlds

Do You Have a Type A Personality?

Karma's a bitch!!

And don't you forget it!!

So that horrible woman who terrorized me for 9 months as my boss has finally gotten what she deserves. The best part? Not only did I have absolutely nothing to do with it, but even in my wildest revenge fantasies, I could never have come up with something this wild.

Seems she was summarily fired, very publicly. Why, you ask?

Let me tell you a little story. There once was a very rich man. He invented a machine that rolled cigarettes and invented cigarette paper or something along those lines, but he was very, very rich. When he died, he left his huge estate and property to the city. A foundation was created to maintain the mansion, the gardens, the surrounding park and a nature center that was stocked with animals indigenous to the state.

Many, many years later, a woman and her four year old son were eating apples outside the bear habitat. Somehow, there are conflicting stories, the little boy got past the four foot barrier between the viewing area and the actual cage and reached his hand in the cage to try to pet one of the black bears. Apparently smelling the apple, the bear nipped at the little boys hand. Several hours later, the little boy was treated and released at a local ER. He didn't even require stitches.

The response from the health department was to euthanise both bears, since they couldn't be sure which one bit the child and they couldn't test them for rabies while they were still alive. The citizen response was quick and violent. People were more upset about the loss of the bears than they had been about the last hundred homicides in the city!! The mayor publicly denounced the euthanizing of the bears and demanded an inquest.

So, as a former insider and a person who would have been directly involved with this fiasco had I not gotten the hell out of there, let me offer a few thoughts. The kid could barely have been scratched by the bear ~ a true bite would have taken off a four year old's hand. There have only been a handful of cases of rabies in black bears ever. If they had been exposed to a rabid animal, they would have killed it, leaving a carcass in their habitat and none was found. Rabies prophylaxis is no longer injections into the stomach, it's now a series of four shots into the arm. Not that big a deal. City policy is to quarantine an animal and watch it for signs of rabies, not automatically euthanize it. There was no effort made to do that with the bears. Basically, the pooch was summarily screwed.

The whole city hated her. She was sent packing ~ it was about time.

Which reminds me of the post script I left off my letter of resignation.


Watch your back. Karma's a bitch.

And yet it explains so much...

Your Quirk Factor: 66%

You're so quirky, it's hard for you to tell the difference between quirky and normal. No doubt about it, there's little about you that's "normal" or "average."

How Quirky Are You?

My current iPod playlist -- How to Save A Life

How to Save A Life

1. Closer ~ Josh Radin
2. Adelaide ~ Old '97s
3. Always Love ~ Nada Surf
4. How to Save A Life ~ The Fray
5. For you i will (confidence) ~ Teddy Geiger
6. World Spins Madly On ~ The Weepies
7. If We Cannot See ~ Devics
8. A Little Less Sixteen Candles, a little More "Touch Me" ~ Fall Out Boy
9. Wisemen ~ James Blunt
10. Catalyst ~ Anna Nalick
11. Look What You've Done ~ Jet
12. Change Your Mind ~ All American Rejects
13. Maybe It's Just Me ~ Butch Walker
14. Here's to the Night ~ Eve 6
15. Goodbye My Lover ~ James Blunt
16. Here Comes Your Ride ~ Holidays on Ice
17. Inside of Love ~ Nada Surf
18. Today Has Been Okay ~ Emiliana Torrini
19. All Will Be Well ~ Gabe Dixon
20. Dirty Little Secret ~ All American Rejects

A Note on "Compact" Cars

I've just started a new job. I know, very exciting. But before I go into any of the exciting details of my new job and my new life, I need to vent a little.

At my new office we have a parking garage where a significant portion of the parking spaces are marked "compact cars only." Now, I understand that I now live in Texas and that the generally accepted definition of "compact" is the difference between an F-350 and an F-150, but unfortunately, civil engineers prefer to go with the other definition of compact. So let me try to help y'all out a little here.

Compact cars are typically foreign (although not always), they have no towing capacity, they frequently have a two-door and/or hatch back option, people over six feet tall generally avoid sitting in the back seat and they are absolutely worthless in any kind of farming or ranching operation. A few guidelines: if your vehicle is an SUV, not a compact; Having "mini" as the first part of your vehicle's title only counts if the second part is "cooper", generally speaking, the whole "van" thing negates the "mini"; if your vehicle has four wheels on the rear axle, not compact; if you get to pay the lower registration fee because your vehicle weighs at least half a ton or qualifies as a farm vehicile, not a compact; and going back to the towing capacity rule, if you've got towing capacity, not a compact. And for those of you needing special attention: Ford Exposition, anything made by Lincoln or Cadillac, not a compact!

Apparently you didn't escape Virginia soon enough....

Your Linguistic Profile::

45% General American English

40% Yankee

5% Dixie

5% Upper Midwestern

0% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

The goat

I'm on the road to my new "home" (also known as my sister's guest room) and my father and I are driving the 1500 miles from my house to her house in my Civic Hybrid. The movers cames two days ago to empty my house ~ it seems like a lifetime ago. And we finished cleaning and cramming other things into the tiny little trunk of my car. I actually packed the car, in the pouring rain. I got so soaked that I needed to get my bag out of the car and change clothes before we could head off.

The first night was a nightmare. We left later than planned. I hadn't gotten ANY sleep in days and driving over Afton Mountain in a storm is a nightmare and a half ~ add to that the gas light going on and my tank indicator reaching empty for the time ever ~ I was convinced the car would die and we would be stuck on Afton Mt in the middle of the storm, well after dark ~ Happy New Year!!

Obviously we made it. Night two was in Memphis and tonight we're in Little Rock. I have officially driven through every major city in Tennessee, not that it was ever a particular goal of mine, but I have now done it!!!

There is a point to all this, a goat in fact. While we've been driving (my father actually has taken the wheel since my near nervous breakdown on Afton Mt) I've been taking advantage of Verizon's free cell to cell minutes. Nearly the entire family has Verizon so we're really getting our money's worth. I think this story is probably funnier if my Dad were to tell it since hearing just the one side of the conversation made it all that more "monty python-esque." But, he doesn't have a blog, so you're just going to have to live with my story.

Anyway, big adventures back in NH. There was a snow storm overnight, not a big deal, but when my mom looked out the window, she saw fresh footprints leading around my parents' house. She went to look out the front and there are fresh tire tracks in the driveway and foot prints leading to the back of the house. My mom goes down to the basement to make sure no one has broken in through the window in the back yard or anything, but nothing is disturbed in the basement. Now after conferring with several neighbors, she decides to call the police, not the emergency number, the other one, to report suspicious activity. So a little bit later, a cruiser pulls into the driveway and two officers get out. It turns out the tracks were left by the police. There was a break-in at the 7 Eleven down at the end of the street the preceding night, by a goat, and the police caught up with the goat in my parents' yard and chased him around the house where he escaped into the woods.

Yes, you read correctly. A goat broke into the 7 Eleven. And no, the police department of my hometown was unable to capture it. But aparrently it was no ordinary goat (not that the breaking and entering would have in any way tipped you off to that) It is an enormous white horned goat. (My father later provided more of his infamous animal expertise to mention that all goats have horns, both male and female.)

I'm sure there will be more to this story.....

Not an ostrich....

So leave it to Fisher Price to still keep 'educational toy' from becoming an oxymoron. This Christmas I, or rather Santa Claus, got my nephew the new Little People ABC Zoo from Fisher Price. He loved the ark so much last year that something with more animals or guys as he refers to them, seemed like an obvious choice.



For those of you not up on the current selection of Fisher Price toys, the ABC Zoo consists of 26 Little People Animals, each one with a name that starts with a different letter of the alphabet. They all have the first letter of their name on their chests which in turn correspond to the little floor mat with a trail of all the letters in alphabetical in a trail through zoo habitats. When you press on one of the letters, it makes the animal's sound. Press on it a second time and it says the animal's name.

My nephew is thrilled with this new toy. NEW GUYS!! And he spends most of Christmas morning using the animals to press the mat and make the noises and here the female voice enunciate their names. "Flamingo" he repeats, "iguana, dolphin, yak, nightingale, koala, xray fish, rhinoceros, jaguar, seal, camel, vulture, ostrich, urial" He giggles while saying each new word. My nephew's vocabulary has expanded by 15 words in one morning!! (And we all have to admit that we can't even guess on which continent one might find a urial. It's a wild sheep found in the mountains of Northern Asia, for those of you who are interested.)

When his grandparents arrive, he holds up each of his new guys and proudly announces their species. Not even two, and he's getting them all right. Grandparents are amazed. We start playing a game. Every time he picks up an animal, we ask him what animal it is. He complies for a while but then loses interest and rebels. "Not an ostrich," with a mischievous grin becomes his stock answer.

TSA is ON the job...

I know a lot of people have been talking this holiday season about the new TSA guidelines that allow scissors and four inch knives into the passenger cabins of American planes and whether or not that actually is making us safer or putting us in danger of those folks who desparately need to wrap their gifts since they couldn't get through security with them wrapped....

Well, TSA has uncovered yet another potential threat to the American skies ~ domestic animals traveling in cargo areas.

Specifically, my eight pound half yellow tabby, half maine coon cat... She's not a particularly good traveler and even less of a people person. So we're at the Delta check-in, mind you I'm flying Delta so that I will be connecting through Atlanta and not Pittsburgh or Chicago or somewhere else my cat might freeze her tuckus off, and we're told that we have to wait for a TSA agent to check out my cat's box before I can leave her there. Now, the cat, who was not easily gotten into said box, has to come out in the main area of a very busy airport just a few days before Christmas, and she's really not having any of it. When I finally tug her out. Her expression is definitely one more of flight than fright. I have to keep a firm hold on her hind hips just to make sure she doesn't take off for another destination and this is no easy task.

When the TSA agent finally saunters over, heck, he's in no rush! He's all gloved up (which always just cracks me up.) He proceeds to reach into the box/cage and rifle through her padded bed and her little toys all the while checking on me to see if any of this makes me nervous. And then, before he lets me put the cat back into her little nest in the box, he actually pats down the cat, as if she might be carrying a concealed weapon?!?! She has teeth and claws, why would she need anything else? Why not check her for explosive residue?

You know, I have heard Al Qaeda is beginning to use cats. You know, because they're so easy to train and control and all. They have an entire herd of them just waiting to attack!!!!

You Should Get a PhD in Science (like chemistry, math, or engineering)

You're both smart and innovative when it comes to ideas. Maybe you'll find a cure for cancer - or develop the latest underground drug.

What Advanced Degree Should You Get?

It's official -- My cat's a gay man!!

So again, this is probably my fault.

A few years ago, after purchasing one for my brother-in-law (Scientific America, I believe), I decided to get myself one of those gift subscriptions for Real Simple that Barnes & Noble used to sell. When I went to fill out the card, I felt a bit ridiculous listing my own name as "recipient" and "gift giver," so I made my cat, my female cat, the recipient.

So, the cat's got a subscription to Real Simple. Not a big deal. The cat starts getting junk mail. My indoor cat is a member of The National Geographic Society!!! (Can you blame her?) My cat is pre-approved for an American Express card!!! (And it's about time she started chipping in!!) Martha Stewart wants to sell things to my cat!!! My cat can get the first few issues of In Style for free!!! My cat is getting offers for all sorts of home related magazines and very strongly feminine catalogs. We're both girls, we're fine. But then St. Jude's comes along. They want cash, from my cat. And they think they can guilt it out of her by sending her some personalized return address labels. For some reason they NEED to put a title on the labels for my cat (Admiral would have worked!!) and despite all previous marketing to the contrary, they've chosen "Mr." WTF???!

So St. Jude's lost out. They don't take American Express, not that we got the card.

Priceless!!!

Evan Picone "poppy" colored cocktail dress: $32.90 (including tax on clearance at Dillards)
"Appropriate" bra that will probably leave a rash: $12.99 (+tax at Target)
Perfect red Soho nice to meet you OPI nail polish for toe nails: $7.50


Looking at least 10 years younger on your 35th birthday: PRICELESS!!

Metamorphosis

I've decided to start referring to this whole experience as a metamorphosis. It sounds much better than saying I'm recovering from a nervous breakdown. Not that I'm really saying much of anything. It's the big pink elephant in the room ~ the fact that I have a WIDE open schedule for no apparent reason. I'm thinking a "Don't ask; don't tell; do not pursue" policy is in order.

I've also been considering marking the upswing of this whole thing ~ you know, the fact that I've finally decided on life. I'm still not as passionate about it as I once was and I'm still very much involved in the weighing of when so much becomes too much. I think I will spend the rest of my life waiting for that time when I can comfortably say that I did my best and gave it the good fight and gracefully admit defeat ~ I guess I just don't get to do that at 34. So I think I'm going to get a tattoo instead. I found a Celtic butterfly that symbolizes resurrection and I think that's appropriate. I'd get it on the back of my hip just above my butt ~ some place that would never show unless I was wearing really low hip huggers ~ and when would I do that?

I've found out this time around, thinking that I had been through the worst and therefore prepared to face it again, that your mind or your body or some combination thereof actually protects you from the worst. Hitting bottom, I remembered things from 13 years ago that I had completely forgotten. You think that you know how much pain you can endure, but the worst pain you actually forget, so it's so much more. It was those memories and visiting those places again that made me wonder if I even wanted to continue on if and when I did get better. So I'd get better and things would be good, but eventually, I'd find myself back there again, so what was the point? How many times do you really have to claw your way out of the hole before you earn the right to stop trying?

A long time from now, is what my therapist told me. Easy for you! But that's why the tattoo is there. It reminds me how far down it goes and that I can come back, I do come back. And every morning I see it and am reminded of my own strength and resilience. There's also something about a permanent mark on my body from this episode that would otherwise not exist. How can you suffer a life threatening illness (15% mortality rate) and come within spitting distance of death and walk away with out a mark on you, not a single visible scar. Maybe I need that, to make it real for me, beyond all the drugs and the doctors and medical bills, like they're not enough of a reminder.

As much as not eating has been a worrisome symptom, the result has been quite helpful. I can wear clothes now that haven't fit since grad school. It's giving my self esteem a boost when I would otherwise have none.

I told my sister about the tattoo and all the symbolism and how I would see it every morning and be reminded of my own strength. The last time I went through this, I got a kitten. But now that I know I'm allergic to cats, that's just not an option, so I'm going for the tattoo.

The games we play

Eastham, MA

I've been playing this rather cruel game with my mother lately. It arose out of my mother's complete lack of attention to details -- it took her 30+ to notice/remember how I take my tea despite the fact that I've drank it the same way for 30 years. Anyway, I've noticed on all the crime and cop shows that parents are always able to immediately identify jewelry/moles/scars from their missing/deceased children and/or all identifying features. I have my doubts that my mother could provide either. I was right, of course.

Like I said, it's a rather cruel game to play, but at this point, my whole emotional pain yardstick is completely obliterated. I have no idea if this is a fair excuse? Maybe no. But don't I have a certain license to spread my pain for help in absorption?

The way I see it, she was asking for a taste. She arrived uninvited -- on a one way ticket; no talk of a return date. I found out later that my sister goaded her into it - "If she had a broken leg wouldn't you go down there?!" I think what my mother heard was "If she had a caesarian section, wouldn't you be there?" Of course she would! Of course she was!

So back to the torment of my mother. My therapist says I need to be more honest with my family ~ tell them how I really feel. He thinks I expend too much energy protecting them from the ugly places where I exist. But I've been doing it for so long that I don't even know where to start.

I fessed up about not wanting to be in New Hampshire with the car and the garage with the door that didn't need to be opened. I confessed that I couldn't bear the thought of Dad having to find me all alone especially after everything he went through with his mother. I told her I wasn't writing a will until I was sure I wanted to live. No point in having things resolved and making it easier to let go.

I haven't mentioned the exposed the beams on the porch or all the rope for sale at the flea market yesterday or all the thought I've put into the use of a dog leash. What is this anyway? Suicide by convenience? Why don't I just stick a fork in the toaster???!!1

This is my life??

Eastham, MA

So you're probably asking yourself, because I definitely am ~ when did this become my life?? I'm on another family vacation ~ this one is set to be legendary ~ as my mom and aunt have mad a midnight trip to a slightly questionable 24 hour Laundromat (the only one on the Outer Cape, apparently) after my nephew awoke screaming B! B! We gathered in the living room where my sister has been sleeping since she believes she keeps the baby up or vice versa, figured he just lost his binky, so my sister fished another one out of her bag an headed into his room. Then quickly yelled to Mom for help and my mom in turn asked the aunts for assistance. He barfed all over himself, his bed and his very special doggie blankie. Mom and my sister bathed him while my aunt and I remade the bed. My sister got him dry and back into clean pajamas, but he was inconsolable without his blankie. Mom washed it in the sink, but having no way of drying it before morning headed off to the seedy coin-o-matic.

While I'm convinced my nephew doesn't really like me. He's always rather suspicious of me ~ still believes I'm some lesser or evil version of his mother. He's so attached to her that it's hard not to take it personally.

I guess I'm feeling better, but I just noticed the exposed beams on the screened in porch ~ how could I have never noticed them in the 20 years we've been coming to this house? And yes, they do make me a bit uncomfortable -- not that there's any rope around, mind you, just yarn, lots of yarn, and shoelaces. I'm considering the use of a dog leash. Which end would you hook over the beam? Would there be any benefit to having the metal piece tighten around your neck? These are things I need to consider.

And unlike with Dad, I really would not be upset for any of this crowd to find me -- well not as upset, anyway.

I still just really miss me, though.