Everywhere

It's hot. No, it's haaaaaht. (I tried it with o's and it looked like a reference to a crazed owl). Seriously, 89 degrees in Seattle is like 120 degrees in hell. I've never been a warm weather girl and while I like to pull out my short skirts and little tops a couple of times a year, this is just getting ridiculous. I suppose I should make the most of it - hay while the sun shines and all - since I'll be locked in dark buildings all summer. And I am starting to get chaco lines on my foot. I think poor B suffers the most. She just wasn't built for temperatures over 70 degrees and puts on this pathetic puss while she scooches up close to the fan. I hope the weather takes a turn for the colder before the fan turns B's eyes into little raisens.

The RAM

Last night was the MEPN happy hour and about 30 current and incoming students gathered at the RAM for beer and info-swapping. (Is the RAM supposed to be in all caps? I don't think it's an acronym, but I swear every time I see it, the name's in CAPS.) For all of my foot dragging about school, it was really cool to get a better look at who I'll be going to school with and what I might get out of the first year of the program. The current students were all very friendly and chatty and seem really excited about what they're doing. It was really apparent that they've bonded over the course of the program and they all seemed very close. I hope our class experiences that as well.
I spent most of my time talking to the current students and learned:

• The program is HARD, but everyone says it goes by fast. I guess I'm still in denial - and from the conversations last night I'm not the only one - I just don't see how it could all be THAT hard. But there wasn't a single person last night who said it was anything other than hours studying/all-consuming/stacks of flashcards on the bus/taking over your life/difficultness. Some quarters might be lighter than others, but they're all tough.
• Nurses and BSN students don't always ken to the philosophy of the MEPN program. They can be a little tough on you during clinicals, so the students recommend a tough skin.
• There's no good way to finance school. It's just expensive. But it's not the MOST expensive MEPN program out there.
• It's possible to get a job as an RN and to take a year off to work before going on to the graduate portion of the program. Which is great news, cause I don't know how else I could afford it!
• The NP role is veeery different from the RN role. Many of the students saw the first year of the MEPN program as a required evil that has to be done, but doesn't necessarily have a lot of bearing on their future careers.

I write all of this to record some of the things that surprised me so that a year from now I can look back and laugh at how naive I was. I have a feeling a lot of things - a lot of me - is going to change through this program.

What to say about my fellow students? A couple of the girls I interviewed with made it into the program. There are a few people who seem really excited about the program, a few that are cautiously optimistic (I'm in that group) and the rest in between. I didn't have a chance to chat with the other ID person, but will definitely seek her out at orientation. Only two of the people at hh had kids (one has grown kids) and my impression is that most of the others are not married, but I could be wrong. No one there was really annoying and in fact, I'm really looking forward to learning more about all of these people.

There's a nice feeling when you find a path that throws like-minded people together. It's like there's an affinity before you even meet. And I felt that last night both with the current students and the incoming class. This is a good sign.

The front yard

While sitting at my computer this morning I heard a big bang and looked outside to find my bookshelf outside. The bang was the bookshelf falling face first onto the sidewalk. I ran out to set the shelf upright and noticed a $25 price tag taped to the side and some major damage on the front. The price tag indicated that the money should be paid to the apartment downstairs.

How the bookshelf came to be for sale: I've been storing some of my things downstairs in a storage area, including said bookshelf. The woman living downstairs is moving out and her mother - a strange hippie-type with "no boundaries" according to my own mother - is up from California to help with the transition. I've met the mother in the past when she's stayed with her daughter. The mom will pop into my apartment with her dog in tow or stop me for a chat in the front yard, which all sounds really innocuous and nice, but generally sets me on edge because she'll say things like "oh don't mind my dog running around your living room. He really likes your dog. Sometimes he pees on the furniture."

Anyhow, in a misguided attempt to help, the mom moved my bookshelf onto the lawn which was the type of accident I should have been expecting. I have since moved the rest of my things out of the storage downstairs and into my living room where they should be safe from being sold. Although now they're at risk of getting peed on.

Greenlake

B and I returned to Greenlake for the first time since the appendicitis and trip and weird illness and so on. I wasn't in a hurry but was taking short steps in my long skirt and enjoying the warmth and people that the nice weather has brought out. I decided to make lists of things that I liked and didn't like about Greenlake as I circumnavigated (the first list has kids in sun hats, Rainier on a clear day, people watching, that sizing-up look you exchange with perfect stangers that means you're sharing a thought with someone you'll never talk to. The second list was a lot longer but also more petty: people who fish, dog poo in the middle of the path, dogs on long leashes lunging at B, wheels in the wrong lane, gnats, etc).

I also decided not to stop to chat with the CSG. I don't like the feeling of obligation that every time I walk the lake I have to interrupt my flow to spend time sharing inanities with some person, even if he is nice. B had other ideas. Fifty feet away from the coffee stand she started veering and by the time we were in front, she was at a 45 degree angle to the ground. B and I made such a scene - her pulling towards the stand like a trucker in need of a fix and me doing my best strong arm impression - that of course the CSG noticed. He called out to us and we exchanged inanities from a little further away. I wasn't going to let B have the satisfaction of a biscuit after our little test of wills, so I didn't get any closer and turned down the CSG's offer of a dog treat. I'll need a better strategy to get past that coffee stand if B and I continue to walk at Greenlake.

For richer or for poorer

My life partner's name is Mo. I had heard of him here and there and we were finally introduced by my family a few years ago. To be honest, there isn't a lot to recommend Mo. He's not particularly attractive, nor much of a communicator. When we do interact, he's patronizing and accusatory. We had a rocky start, or starts, I should say. We seperated a number of times, but after a month of huffing and stomping around my apartment, I'd come crawling back with new resolve and an promise to start with a clean slate. We've been together continuously for the last year and a half and I'm hopeful that our streak will continue. He's my advisor....my conscience...my Microsoft Money.

Anthropomorphizing Mo Money is no joke or cute trick. Laying out my financial transactions, categorizing every mocha and justifying every new clothing item requires more honesty from me than I've ever been able to provide in any human relationship. I could feel Mo looking over my shoulder at the grocery store. The gas station. The mall. The movies. I say that I was honest with Mo, but that's a big lie. I had to record all of my checking transactions, but there were plenty of other accounts that I didn't enter in Mo and money spent from those was under his radar. I would sneak Nordstrom bags past my computer and hide credit card statements with the dedication of an errant wife. Sooner or later, Mo would wise up and everything would go to hell and I'd swear I would never use MM again. It wasn't until I retired those hidden accounts and swore to use money from my checking account exclusively that Mo and I have had any long-lasting success.

I've never paid any attention to my budget and am not sure of the rules. When I first set it up, I thought that $200 a month for clothes was perfectly reasonable. (It's not.) Over the course of the last year, I've studied my budget and spending habits and have firmed up my spending categories and narrowed down my expenses. I'm still not sure if it's reasonable, but it keeps me on track. Mostly. Mo's not very forgiving, and a penny over budget is the same as a thousand so the goal is to never be in the red. But what's allowed? If I'm at risk of going over budget on groceries, but have money left in leisure does Mo recommend I see a movie in lieu of dinner? If I have $5 left in my gas budget at the end of the month but plenty in my checking account and am running on fumes, do I stop at the gas station for 2 gallons or fill the tank? Why didn't we ever have these types of word problems in high school math? So if I fill the tank and go over gas budget, I'll have money left over in my gas budget the following month - so can I move that money to my clothing budget and buy a new shirt?

Mo has a cash flow forecasting feature that was the bane of my existence in the early days. Somehow he managed to know what I would spend before I spent it and to predict when I would be out of money even while there was plenty in my account. The bastard didn't have much faith in me and that forecasting started many of my snits and had me swearing I'd never use Mo again. As I've gotten a better handle on my spending I've been able to use that feature to my advantage, thanks to my contrary nature. If Mo says I'm going to spend $15 next week on dining out, I try to spend $10. Mo thinks I need to put gas in my car tomorrow? I'll wait three days. Mo says I'll spend $20 on clothes this week? I'll spend $50. Okay, so it's not always a good thing.

I've gotten offers to replace Mo with the new version of Money, but I wouldn't even think of it. He my be ugly, but he's mine and has ultimately empowered my money choices for the good. I'm looking forward to sharing special moments with him in the future - paying off my car, buying a house, opening a retirement account. They just wouldn't be the same without Mo Money, my cheerleader, on the side.

Ballard Swedish

I checked out the new outlet mall north of the city and did more browsing than buying, but I did find some tank tops that've been on my list. It was 7:45 when I started thinking about heading back to the car and I really wanted a coffee. There were many reasons to buy a coffee and many reasons not to and after much internal debate, I said to hell with it I'm getting an iced non-fat decaf white chocolate mocha and damn the consequences.

The coffee and I made it to the car, I put the key in the ignition, took a sip, and BLAM. I was hit with this sudden knife-like pain in my belly that was unlike anything I've experienced before. The pain really did come on that suddenly and it accompanied me all the way home, through an unwanted dinner (I thought food might help), past an antacid, during a bath, despite an aspirin, and all the way through a sleepless night. I forgot to ask for decaf.

Around midnight I was on the computer looking for a list of appendicitis symptoms, when my cousin E logged on to Messenger. She was ending a night of drinking and firefighters and I felt old and pathetic.

I wound up heading to the emergency room around 2am, had my appendix out at 7, and home before noon that same day. This medical system is efficient! I'm a little sick when I think about the cost of it all with my not-so-great insurance, but otherwise feeling pretty good.

The Neighborhood

I took B for a spin around the block this morning, nothing special, and when we returned she collapsed in her usual fashion. I started making coffee and was walking back and forth between the computer and the kitchen and on my third trip I noticed a slug - A SLUG - creeping its way from B to the door. She must've picked up a hitchhiker. I need to remember not to scratch her belly for a while.

The Bed

Day six of my allergy/sinus infection/antihistamine haze and I've lost my words. I'll post more when I find them again.

Greenlake

B and I had plans to meet N at the lake for a walk and gossip and since the weather was nice, I decided to walk there with a stop at the dog park along the way. We got to the meeting spot - it's always been near the coffee stand - a good twenty minutes early and with no phone to call, we just had to wait it out. Even though it was after 7, the CSG was manning his post and noticed B and I take a seat on a nearby bench. He came over to say hello and feed B biscuits. He told me that he and some of his coffee-stand collegues were out looking at a bike/cooler combo they could use to schill ice cream around the lake. Well, HE wouldn't be riding the bike, but someone would. We chatted for a few more minutes and he left. N was running late and B and I sat for another 10 minutes and the CSG came back to talk a little more. He wandered off to pack up the stand and our wait continued. Round number three looked certain, but N rounded the corner and we left for our walk. I'm not certain that the CSG knew I was waiting for a friend or if he thought that my milling was some new flirtation strategy.