Brochures and Such

The appointment was made, and a few weeks before the time I'd go in to see this new doctor, I got a packet in the mail.

A welcome packet, of sorts. It had a list of all the things I needed to bring to be a prepared patient.

Also the intake form, so I didn't have too wait long when I arrived.

Directions on how to get to the office.

And a brochure... telling me all about the practice's policies and stand operating procedures.

It read more like a bad internet survey.

Here is what we like. Here is what we don't like.

If you do this (like not wear scented lotions), you'll be the "good" patient. If you do this (forget your intake form and insurance card) there is a special circle in hell reserved just for you.

But this paragraph made me laugh right out loud:

"We know that your problem is important to you.
We also know that our waiting list is long.
Time is better spent on helping you than explaining why there are too few dermatologists in the area.
Please refrain from complaining about the wait.
We have no control over this."

And this gave me an idea. I will print up brochures of my likes and dislikes, and send them out to prospective friends.

Or maybe I'll just keep updating my status on Facebook.

Of Hearts

To anyone else, it was just a red ceramic heart, hanging from my rearview mirror.

To me, it was my emotional heart, given to another and hanging in limbo for years.

Yesterday, I kissed it goodbye and threw it into the ocean.

And as I saw it hit the waves "Whom the Son sets free, is free indeed" echoed through my head.

Freedom tastes good.

The Good Ol' Summertime

Andy & Amy rode their bikes up to my house tonight, and we went out for ice cream. We talked about how it made us feel like we were little kids on Chestnut Hill again... the three of us hanging out on summer nights.

And yet, we're so different from our little selves. Amy left the ice cream place and turned left to go to Massachussets and a husband. Andy is leaving soon to go overseas with the State Dept. And me... the scaredy cat of our younger selves... rode my motorcycle to work this morning.

Happy heart.

Flashback

I think of my nieces as themselves... not as their parent's children.

If I ever do think of them as someone's child, it's often the moms that I think of.

However this weekend, as I saw them explore all our old play places on Chestnut Hill, and interact with each other, I was keenly aware that I was watching my brother's children.

"Aunt Lindsay!! We found this great place," they shouted from inside the tunnel of lilac bushes that I spent countless hours playing house in as a small girl.

"LOOK!!" they screeched, as they hung onto the same willow tree branches that my hands held years ago, and swung with abandon.

Growing up, Evan & I were always wanting to play, do, and have adventures. Darren was content to read 23 out of the 24 hours in any given day.

I remember the frustration of wanting him to come and make it the three of us having fun, and not just the two of us. (Probably because at the time in our lives, Evan & I were not what we would refer to as friends, and Darren was a fabulous peacekeeper) The deep sighs of disappointment coming from the redhead and myself, as the eldest would inform us that he was happy to keep reading, thank you.

And this weekend, from behind a closed door, I heard Evan's little girl heave a deep sigh, as Darren's little girl curled up in the pappazon chair, reading to her heart's content.

And I smiled.

She's Married!

My Mantra

Battle of the Texts

I sent a picture of the ground cover of snow that we got on Friday to my big brother.

He sent back a picture of a large snow covered mountain near where he was staying in Alaska.

Nobody likes a bragger.

:)

As I tried to study (read: cram) for my exam before class last night, I was surrounded by the whining of my fellow students.

They were displeased by an instructor for another course, and were each trying to outdo the others with examples of how much this teacher irritated them.

Needing quiet for my studying, and wanting her reputation to have a little more than a shred left by the end of their conversation, I quietly said;

"You guys do know she is my aunt, right?"

People who panicked = them

People who wished I had pictures of each one of their faces = me

Saving the world... one new aunt at a time.

Appropriate Use of Work Time

Today I was asked by a co-worker what super hero powers I would like to possess.

My first answer was the ability to fly.

My second response... as follows.

(Names changed to protect those using work time for idle chatter.)

Jones, Lindsay M [10:30 AM]:
and perhaps the power to make annoying people disappear

Name, Changed [10:32 AM]:
sweetie thats just called a gun license and a lack of empathy

Name, Changed [10:32 AM]:
if you want that just register as a Republican!

She Yammers

I realized recently that I no longer blog about things... or events. I was using it only to showcase pieces that were deep... or poetic... or spiritually significant... or stories.

And I miss writing. I miss writing about mundane things. I miss the witness that my blog was to my life.

I am taking three classes this semester, and sit there thinking "I'd love to write about that person." But it's generally if they are doing something ridiculous or annoying... or both. And since I'm trying to curb my snarkiness, those posts will not be published.

But since this realization, I've freed myself from my own expectations of not posting anything unless it's Pullitzer Prize worthy. Why deny myself the joy that is writing, just because it's not deep?

So I will blog again. And if you dont want to read about the commoness that is my life, you are free to close this out! (Editor's note... Lindsay is working a lot of hours, taking three classes, playing on the worship team, and doing as many practicum hours as she can, so the line "I will blog again" must needs be taken with a grain of salt, and a realization that there are only 24 hrs in her day, some of which should be put in the "sleeping" catergory)

Yesterday I was walking through the halls at work, mentally keeping a list of all the things that had gone wrong that day. And by wrong I mean Significantly Wrecking My Day Wrong. There were many and I was replaying them over and over so I wouldn't forget them. And I stopped in the middle of the hall and asked myself when had I become that person? The person who only looks at the bad. That's not who I am. Or not who I thought I was, at least.

So today I tried to focus on the good.

And today went surprisingly better than yesterday.

- I got to sleep in until 6 instead of getting up at 5
- Someone bought me coffee this morning
- And someone else bought me lunch
- I've worked hard on my organizational skills, and was told by a trainer travelling to our site today, that my class was the most organized one he'd seen in his five years of training
- The last 15 minutes of my work day were spent in conversation with someone who makes me laugh so hard I cry
- Shopping on the way home, I found a raincoat that was regularly $80, now mine for only $22
- I talked to Rachelle on my way home and heard little Evie (my goddaughter, you know!! :) cooing in the background
- Leaves are starting to come out, and the forsythias are in full bloom
- Another person scheduled a massage, which means I'm chalking up my practice hours
- And for dinner, I have my ultimate comfort food just waiting to be made


So today, you might say, was a happy yellow rain coat in the midst of a rain storm!

Seasons

Ask anyone in NH what their favorite part of living here is, and nine times out of ten the answer you'll receive is "I love all four seasons!"

But ask that same person that same question after the third April snowstorm, and the seasons thing isn't quite so dear to their hearts. They are not pleased, because the most difficult season has lasted too long. It has dared to go beyond the boundaries of the calendar.

My favorite season is Fall. And when September is too hot or November sees too much snow, I feel gypped. Gypped because my favorite season was too short.

I've been thinking about seasons a lot this week. But not the four seasons I am lucky enough to experience because I'm a NH girl.

Seasons of life.

And I realized that the way I view Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall are very similar to the way that I view seasons of life.

If a wonderful season is cut short, I feel gypped. If a difficult season goes longer than I feel it should, I am displeased.

And all through these thoughts, the words to this song have been floating...

All of my life
In every season
You are still God
I have a reason to sing
I have a reason to worship

In every season, He is still God... And that's enough.

It has to be.

Bodies

I was reading a magazine to keep my bored self on the treadmill for longer than three seconds last night, and came across this article about bodies... and how most women feel the pressure to be emaciated, yet the majority of women are nowhere close to that.

At the top of the article, in large font it read "Why are we so hard on ourselves, when the people who love us are so much more forgiving?"

The magazine had gone out to their readers and asked them to finish the statement "My body is..." The only guidelines were that the responders could not say anything negative.

And the answers were beautiful.

My body is...

* tough and stubborn!

* a gift from God.

* freaking awesome!

* fun to live in.

* beautiful and full of talent. I love my body. It's also hungry... almost all the time :)

* short, but thinks it's tall!

* my best friend.

* not perfect. And I wouldn't change it for the world.


So, as I walked on the treadmill and applauded these women in my mind, I wondered what I would write.

And decided I would reply "My body finally gained my respect and love in it's 30th year."

What would you say?