Sunday, April 29, 2007
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Time Off..
I'm ending two weeks off of work (vacation time). I stayed in Regina and putzed around the house. I cleaned it. I painted the bathroom (pics to come soon). I worked in the yard a bit. I watched a lot of the first season of "St.Elsewhere" (one of the greatest TV shows ever). I went to the Globe Theatre and saw "Mom's the Word". I cooked a bit. I ate a bit. I saw 10 year olds play hockey (a co-worker's son). I had my suits taken in and dry cleaned. I tried out my new bike. All in all a decent time away from work.
Back at work tomorrow (writing on Sunday evening), to catch up on emails, mail, and various files that most likely have piled up. Back to a regular schedule. Back to regular showers. Back to regular meals. Back to regular bedtimes. Back to regular laundry times. Back to the regular.
Back at work tomorrow (writing on Sunday evening), to catch up on emails, mail, and various files that most likely have piled up. Back to a regular schedule. Back to regular showers. Back to regular meals. Back to regular bedtimes. Back to regular laundry times. Back to the regular.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Dreams and Reality
I'm sure it has happened to everyone at one time or another...a time when the reality sneaks into your night's sleep's dreams...like when your alarm goes off yet you incorporate it into your dreams. It happened in a very weird way to me last night.
My lower back has been a bit tight particularly in the early morning after my night's sleep. The combined with who knows what the controls one's dreams caused me to dream that I was pregnant and going into labour. The labour pains were in my lower back....just like it hurt in real live. Very odd. So odd I'm not sure why I feel the need to blog about...other than it provides a bit of a laugh...enjoy!
My lower back has been a bit tight particularly in the early morning after my night's sleep. The combined with who knows what the controls one's dreams caused me to dream that I was pregnant and going into labour. The labour pains were in my lower back....just like it hurt in real live. Very odd. So odd I'm not sure why I feel the need to blog about...other than it provides a bit of a laugh...enjoy!
Thursday, April 12, 2007
The Doctor is in...
About a year and a half ago, I went to my family doctor for the first time in years. I went to get a prescription normally dolled out by a ears/nose/throat specialist I saw...but he died so off I went to the family doc for a new referral and/or the prescription. While there he decided to check my blood pressure.
Now most of you know that I'm not a small man and don't have the best eating habits...so as soon as he wrapped the monitor around my arm I knew it was going to be high...and sure enough it was. However, he asked me to monitor it at home as he was sure I had white coat syndrome causing my blood pressure to be high in the doctors office. I started measuring it and it was still high but not as high as in his office. I continued to monitor it and last October had a check in with my numbers and he asked for blood work to check my cholesterol and blood sugar. Again it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that all would be high. And sure enough it was. He asked that I keep monitoring my blood pressure and come back in 6 months (i.e. this week) with my numbers and new blood work. He also mentioned that I may want to shed a few pounds that may help. He mentioned it rather casually, but in my brain it was what I needed to hear to motivate me a bit.
The past six months I've swam 3-4 times a week, stopped buying junk to eat, increased fruit, veggie and fiber intake, moved to exclusively diet soda, and decreased portion size...but still had the odd dessert...the odd night of junk appetizers, etc. Things have seemed to work as after about a month of doing this people started to notice some weight loss. Shortly after that I started to notice too, clothes started to fit better, I went down a belt notch..then two..then three...and more and more people started to notice my changing figure. I don't own a scale and thus didn't know how much I had lost...but decided I wouldn't find out until my next doctor's visit. A lot of people (including myself) were quite curious.
Fast forward to this week and my most recent doctors visit. Now I should mention that I have a love/hate relationship with my doctor. He doesn't always have the best bedside manner, in that he can be a bit cold, but is very knowledgeable, explains things well when need be (i.e. when asked to), and is sometimes a bit cautious in prescriptions and other treatments.
As soon as I was escorted to the examination room I jumped on the scale (just in case the doctor forgot to have me do it). My own personal hunch and goal was confirmed when I saw that I had lost 50 lbs.
The doctor soon arrived and asked what he could do for me. I resisted the urge to ask for copious amounts of drugs..and it was my blood pressure check in. I showed him my numbers, he asked if these were my numbers or someone else's (he was in "good" humour), he checked my pressure in the office...asked if there was anything else he could do while I was here...I asked about a few minor things...my pressure was high in the office..but lower than it had ever been while in the office. While he was checking my pressure I mentioned that I had gone for blood work the week before. He said "I see your bruise, so either you had blood work done or you're a junkie." Two jokes in one visit...he either got paid or laid to produce such good humour.
I couldn't wait for him to ask to weigh in...so I said I had lost a bit of weight which may have helped my numbers. I jumped on the scale...told him what it was. He said "OK"..and then said "What did you say?" I told him again. "That's more than a bit...that's quite good." He asked how I was doing it. I told him. I also said that he was concerned about my cholesterol and blood sugar. He looked and my numbers from last time and this most recent time. Again he was a bit surprised in the improvement. Showed me and explained to me the numbers and that all were within normal. He was surprised and commented that he couldn't recall if he'd ever seen such an improvement in weight, blood pressure, and blood numbers. He seemed pleased...and sent me on my way to keep checking my pressure and if they increase to come and see him.
Now most of you know that I'm not a small man and don't have the best eating habits...so as soon as he wrapped the monitor around my arm I knew it was going to be high...and sure enough it was. However, he asked me to monitor it at home as he was sure I had white coat syndrome causing my blood pressure to be high in the doctors office. I started measuring it and it was still high but not as high as in his office. I continued to monitor it and last October had a check in with my numbers and he asked for blood work to check my cholesterol and blood sugar. Again it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that all would be high. And sure enough it was. He asked that I keep monitoring my blood pressure and come back in 6 months (i.e. this week) with my numbers and new blood work. He also mentioned that I may want to shed a few pounds that may help. He mentioned it rather casually, but in my brain it was what I needed to hear to motivate me a bit.
The past six months I've swam 3-4 times a week, stopped buying junk to eat, increased fruit, veggie and fiber intake, moved to exclusively diet soda, and decreased portion size...but still had the odd dessert...the odd night of junk appetizers, etc. Things have seemed to work as after about a month of doing this people started to notice some weight loss. Shortly after that I started to notice too, clothes started to fit better, I went down a belt notch..then two..then three...and more and more people started to notice my changing figure. I don't own a scale and thus didn't know how much I had lost...but decided I wouldn't find out until my next doctor's visit. A lot of people (including myself) were quite curious.
Fast forward to this week and my most recent doctors visit. Now I should mention that I have a love/hate relationship with my doctor. He doesn't always have the best bedside manner, in that he can be a bit cold, but is very knowledgeable, explains things well when need be (i.e. when asked to), and is sometimes a bit cautious in prescriptions and other treatments.
As soon as I was escorted to the examination room I jumped on the scale (just in case the doctor forgot to have me do it). My own personal hunch and goal was confirmed when I saw that I had lost 50 lbs.
The doctor soon arrived and asked what he could do for me. I resisted the urge to ask for copious amounts of drugs..and it was my blood pressure check in. I showed him my numbers, he asked if these were my numbers or someone else's (he was in "good" humour), he checked my pressure in the office...asked if there was anything else he could do while I was here...I asked about a few minor things...my pressure was high in the office..but lower than it had ever been while in the office. While he was checking my pressure I mentioned that I had gone for blood work the week before. He said "I see your bruise, so either you had blood work done or you're a junkie." Two jokes in one visit...he either got paid or laid to produce such good humour.
I couldn't wait for him to ask to weigh in...so I said I had lost a bit of weight which may have helped my numbers. I jumped on the scale...told him what it was. He said "OK"..and then said "What did you say?" I told him again. "That's more than a bit...that's quite good." He asked how I was doing it. I told him. I also said that he was concerned about my cholesterol and blood sugar. He looked and my numbers from last time and this most recent time. Again he was a bit surprised in the improvement. Showed me and explained to me the numbers and that all were within normal. He was surprised and commented that he couldn't recall if he'd ever seen such an improvement in weight, blood pressure, and blood numbers. He seemed pleased...and sent me on my way to keep checking my pressure and if they increase to come and see him.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Grandparents
The topic of grandparents have been around me quite a bit recently. From a co-worker's loss of her grandmother recently to a glimpse of a memory of my grandmother.
I was not overly close to my father's parents. Reasons are many, but the primary one is that they lived out of town in a small prairie town Muenster Saskatchewan. We visited a few weekends a year, but never long enough to build a strong bond.
My father's father, Joe, died before I was born. He died in a car accident August 11, 1972 coming home from a construction sight on which he had been working. I never had the chance to know him and didn't hear too many stories about him as I was growing up. The largest presence he had in my life was an old black and white photo my father had hanging in our basement. It was of my grandfather on a construction sight. My great-aunt (my grandfather's sister) was a talented amateur painter. She decided to do a portrait of her brother based on this photograph. Initially not to take very long and be a surprise for my father, my mother smuggled the black and white photo out of the house. Many years later (i.e. close to 10), the picture and the long awaited portrait came home. I remember the day the portrait arrived, it was so life like, many still mistake it for a picture, it caused a few tears in my father and my mother, who never met the man. Many years later I decided to surprise my father at Christmas by professionally framing the portrait, so it was smuggled out of the house, this time for only a couple of weeks. My father was surprised at the gift, but in my father's way did not reveal his surprise or fondness for the frame or my gesture directly to me. I heard via my mother a couple of days that he was quite happy and proud of the newly framed portrait.
My father's mother, Grandma Kay or Katie to her friends, lived the life of a widow after my grandfather died. She lived alone, tended her garden, was active in her community and made the best soup and buns on God's green earth. Because of geography we visited but never really bonded a whole lot. I think it goes beyond geography. My father was the only boy in the family and as a result my grandmother and mother never really got along overly well....not horrid...but not warm either. I being a momma's boy picked up on this and tended to side with my mother. I loved my grandmother and miss her, but was not quite as upset when we lost her as I was when we lost my mother's parents. Grandma Kay survived a heart attack when I was fairly young, and in the summer of 1996 suffered heart related trouble. My mother, brother and I were planning a trip to Vancouver to visit relatives the same summer. We contemplated cancelling the trip because of grandma's health problems, but she seemed better as the trip drew near. She called the night before our trip and said she was fine and that we should have a good trip. My mother talked to her as did I. We drove to Vancouver and arrived at our relatives to the news that my grandmother had passed away the day before - August 11, 1996 - 24 years to the day after her husband had died. I took the news in stride and was quite calm as I had talked to her before we left. This conversation seemed to put my mind and emotions at ease. As we drove we did not return for the funeral, although my mother did fly back to help my dad through everything.
Things I got from my Grandma Kay - my love of gladiolas, my desire for the perfect stew/soup, some of my best laughs of my life (she was funny without knowing it), my realization that older people sometimes dye their hair.
My mother's parents lived in Regina, about a dozen blocks from the house in which I grew up. As such, I had easier access to Nan and Papa. We were there often for Sunday dinner, to sleep over or just to hang out because it was a convenient destination to ride our bikes to. Some of my best childhood memories is sleeping over at my grandparents' house...watching Hockey Night in Canada and eating popcorn. Their house was a world unto itself...one where I didn't worry about anything...didn't worry about homework...or any other childhood worries.
My mother's father, Papa or Harry to everyone else, was born, raised, and lived his entire live on the same block of the same street. He worked his entire life for Eaton's, never learned to drive, and drank Coca-Cola every day of his adult life. He died of emphazyema the same summer I turned 13. Some of my earliest memories involve Papa, we played Eye Spy together and for some reason I always tried to scare him by sneaking up on him. He was a kind man, but bickered with Nan, and toward the end of his life turned grumpy and crotchety..I would too if I couldn't breath properly. My grandmother took care of him throughout his illness at great effort, until he fell and was hospitalized, never to return home. His death was the first in my life for which I was really affected.
I remember him going into hospital and hearing the story from my family that he realized that it was his last trip out of the house.
I remember going back and forth the hospital that first night where we didn't think he would make it. He made it through that first night and ended up living for another 2 weeks.
I remember us calling my aunt and her family home preparing for the inevitable and due to other circumstances they returned home after a week, knowing that they would be returning shortly once he did die. They barely made it home before having to return home as he died as they were flying home.
I remember the intense grief of realizing that he would die. I ended up going through most of my grief before he died.
Things I got from Papa - my love of Coca Cola, warm memories every time I watch Sunday afternoon golf on TV or Hockey Night in Canada, a reason not to smoke, a sense of loyalty and a ritual of buying Kinsmen car tickets at Buffalo Days.
My mother's mother, Nan or Bea to her everyone else, was and is a huge part of my life. Writing this brings back so many memories that I don't know where to start. She was a very traditional woman but wasn't always so. She didn't marry until she was 30 (not the norm in the 1950's) and the proceeded to have 3 children. She worked outside of the home, also at Eaton's, also never learned to drive. She loved to garden, was born blind in one eye, and belonged to a lodge of women (we never really did figure this part out as it was a secretive lodge although she was quite open about belonging to it).
As she didn't drive, I took her many places once I learned to drive....to get groceries....to the hair dresser...shopping...to the bank. I enjoyed our trips and although she showed her gratitude at the time it wasn't until her funeral did I really know how much she appreciated my help, when a friend of hers made a point in finding me and introducing herself saying she wanted to meet me because my grandmother spoke so highly of me and my willingness to help her. I also helped her in her garden that included vegetables, large flower beds and a large hedge that I trimmed twice a year. I hated that hedge. I miss that hedge.
My grandmother visited my aunt and her family in Vancouver at least once a year. On her last trip there she caught pneumonia and passed away on February 13, 2002. This is not how any of us pictured her passing, primarily we all assumed she would die in Regina. So not only were we emotionally thrown..but now we have to deal with added logistics. I was surprisingly calm throughout the ordeal including the funeral. It all just didn't seem real to me because it didn't happen the way I expected it to. Her passing really didn't hit me until a few months later at Easter...when it "hit" me that I wouldn't have to pick her up on the way to my parent's house for dinner...and she wouldn't be at the table.
Things I got from Nan - my love of gardening (indoors and outdoors), a sense of courage, a sense of love, a sense of family, and a sense of obligation.
I was not overly close to my father's parents. Reasons are many, but the primary one is that they lived out of town in a small prairie town Muenster Saskatchewan. We visited a few weekends a year, but never long enough to build a strong bond.
My father's father, Joe, died before I was born. He died in a car accident August 11, 1972 coming home from a construction sight on which he had been working. I never had the chance to know him and didn't hear too many stories about him as I was growing up. The largest presence he had in my life was an old black and white photo my father had hanging in our basement. It was of my grandfather on a construction sight. My great-aunt (my grandfather's sister) was a talented amateur painter. She decided to do a portrait of her brother based on this photograph. Initially not to take very long and be a surprise for my father, my mother smuggled the black and white photo out of the house. Many years later (i.e. close to 10), the picture and the long awaited portrait came home. I remember the day the portrait arrived, it was so life like, many still mistake it for a picture, it caused a few tears in my father and my mother, who never met the man. Many years later I decided to surprise my father at Christmas by professionally framing the portrait, so it was smuggled out of the house, this time for only a couple of weeks. My father was surprised at the gift, but in my father's way did not reveal his surprise or fondness for the frame or my gesture directly to me. I heard via my mother a couple of days that he was quite happy and proud of the newly framed portrait.
My father's mother, Grandma Kay or Katie to her friends, lived the life of a widow after my grandfather died. She lived alone, tended her garden, was active in her community and made the best soup and buns on God's green earth. Because of geography we visited but never really bonded a whole lot. I think it goes beyond geography. My father was the only boy in the family and as a result my grandmother and mother never really got along overly well....not horrid...but not warm either. I being a momma's boy picked up on this and tended to side with my mother. I loved my grandmother and miss her, but was not quite as upset when we lost her as I was when we lost my mother's parents. Grandma Kay survived a heart attack when I was fairly young, and in the summer of 1996 suffered heart related trouble. My mother, brother and I were planning a trip to Vancouver to visit relatives the same summer. We contemplated cancelling the trip because of grandma's health problems, but she seemed better as the trip drew near. She called the night before our trip and said she was fine and that we should have a good trip. My mother talked to her as did I. We drove to Vancouver and arrived at our relatives to the news that my grandmother had passed away the day before - August 11, 1996 - 24 years to the day after her husband had died. I took the news in stride and was quite calm as I had talked to her before we left. This conversation seemed to put my mind and emotions at ease. As we drove we did not return for the funeral, although my mother did fly back to help my dad through everything.
Things I got from my Grandma Kay - my love of gladiolas, my desire for the perfect stew/soup, some of my best laughs of my life (she was funny without knowing it), my realization that older people sometimes dye their hair.
My mother's parents lived in Regina, about a dozen blocks from the house in which I grew up. As such, I had easier access to Nan and Papa. We were there often for Sunday dinner, to sleep over or just to hang out because it was a convenient destination to ride our bikes to. Some of my best childhood memories is sleeping over at my grandparents' house...watching Hockey Night in Canada and eating popcorn. Their house was a world unto itself...one where I didn't worry about anything...didn't worry about homework...or any other childhood worries.
My mother's father, Papa or Harry to everyone else, was born, raised, and lived his entire live on the same block of the same street. He worked his entire life for Eaton's, never learned to drive, and drank Coca-Cola every day of his adult life. He died of emphazyema the same summer I turned 13. Some of my earliest memories involve Papa, we played Eye Spy together and for some reason I always tried to scare him by sneaking up on him. He was a kind man, but bickered with Nan, and toward the end of his life turned grumpy and crotchety..I would too if I couldn't breath properly. My grandmother took care of him throughout his illness at great effort, until he fell and was hospitalized, never to return home. His death was the first in my life for which I was really affected.
I remember him going into hospital and hearing the story from my family that he realized that it was his last trip out of the house.
I remember going back and forth the hospital that first night where we didn't think he would make it. He made it through that first night and ended up living for another 2 weeks.
I remember us calling my aunt and her family home preparing for the inevitable and due to other circumstances they returned home after a week, knowing that they would be returning shortly once he did die. They barely made it home before having to return home as he died as they were flying home.
I remember the intense grief of realizing that he would die. I ended up going through most of my grief before he died.
Things I got from Papa - my love of Coca Cola, warm memories every time I watch Sunday afternoon golf on TV or Hockey Night in Canada, a reason not to smoke, a sense of loyalty and a ritual of buying Kinsmen car tickets at Buffalo Days.
My mother's mother, Nan or Bea to her everyone else, was and is a huge part of my life. Writing this brings back so many memories that I don't know where to start. She was a very traditional woman but wasn't always so. She didn't marry until she was 30 (not the norm in the 1950's) and the proceeded to have 3 children. She worked outside of the home, also at Eaton's, also never learned to drive. She loved to garden, was born blind in one eye, and belonged to a lodge of women (we never really did figure this part out as it was a secretive lodge although she was quite open about belonging to it).
As she didn't drive, I took her many places once I learned to drive....to get groceries....to the hair dresser...shopping...to the bank. I enjoyed our trips and although she showed her gratitude at the time it wasn't until her funeral did I really know how much she appreciated my help, when a friend of hers made a point in finding me and introducing herself saying she wanted to meet me because my grandmother spoke so highly of me and my willingness to help her. I also helped her in her garden that included vegetables, large flower beds and a large hedge that I trimmed twice a year. I hated that hedge. I miss that hedge.
My grandmother visited my aunt and her family in Vancouver at least once a year. On her last trip there she caught pneumonia and passed away on February 13, 2002. This is not how any of us pictured her passing, primarily we all assumed she would die in Regina. So not only were we emotionally thrown..but now we have to deal with added logistics. I was surprisingly calm throughout the ordeal including the funeral. It all just didn't seem real to me because it didn't happen the way I expected it to. Her passing really didn't hit me until a few months later at Easter...when it "hit" me that I wouldn't have to pick her up on the way to my parent's house for dinner...and she wouldn't be at the table.
Things I got from Nan - my love of gardening (indoors and outdoors), a sense of courage, a sense of love, a sense of family, and a sense of obligation.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
April Fool?!?
Ramblings and Confessions of a Small City Fag #13: I have never planned my career.
Honest.
I started my university career wanting to be my own boss and run my own business (had no clue what kind of business), so I started my Administration degree. Part way through it I discovered I enjoyed government, economics, and political science. These interests led me to specializing in Public Administration. So I finished my B.Admin with a specialization in Public Administration.
When it came time to find a job after convocation I found nothing. In my fourth year of university I was asked to join the regional group board of the Institute of Public Administration of Canada (IPAC). The dean of Administration was also on that board. He offered me a summer job doing some research. I took it. This led to the idea of starting my Masters of Public Administration so that I could continue the summer research projects. I took started it and kept the job. The research job eventually led to a real job within the Faculty. I took it. I held that job for nearly 4 years. I enjoyed it for the most part. There came a time where I tired of the job and some of the dumbass stress that came with the job. In my last performance evaluation in that job I discussed some career planning with my supervisor and she said that there were opportunities at the university other than the one job I wanted. I took this with a grain of salt and continued on. The very next week the job I'm doing right now was posted. I applied. I interviewed. I got the offer. I took it.
I've been doing my current job for two and half years. A couple of weeks ago I went to Vancouver. I returned to hear about a new plan to deal with a vacancy within the office. The plan was for my current boss to take the vacant position for 6 months and I would take my boss's position for 6 months starting April 1st in addition to my current position. I agreed.
A week later I had Monday off. I came back to an email from our Associate VP saying he was thinking about going to China in May and asked if my schedule would permit me to travel with him. It did. I first thought it would be a relatively short trip to Beijing and another city to visit a school we had been dealing with recently. Last week I realized that it would still be relatively short (a week or so) but will not most likely include the original two cities, a city in Hunan province and a city in Inner Mongolia (go figure).
It's turning into a very busy spring and summer at work...
Honest.
I started my university career wanting to be my own boss and run my own business (had no clue what kind of business), so I started my Administration degree. Part way through it I discovered I enjoyed government, economics, and political science. These interests led me to specializing in Public Administration. So I finished my B.Admin with a specialization in Public Administration.
When it came time to find a job after convocation I found nothing. In my fourth year of university I was asked to join the regional group board of the Institute of Public Administration of Canada (IPAC). The dean of Administration was also on that board. He offered me a summer job doing some research. I took it. This led to the idea of starting my Masters of Public Administration so that I could continue the summer research projects. I took started it and kept the job. The research job eventually led to a real job within the Faculty. I took it. I held that job for nearly 4 years. I enjoyed it for the most part. There came a time where I tired of the job and some of the dumbass stress that came with the job. In my last performance evaluation in that job I discussed some career planning with my supervisor and she said that there were opportunities at the university other than the one job I wanted. I took this with a grain of salt and continued on. The very next week the job I'm doing right now was posted. I applied. I interviewed. I got the offer. I took it.
I've been doing my current job for two and half years. A couple of weeks ago I went to Vancouver. I returned to hear about a new plan to deal with a vacancy within the office. The plan was for my current boss to take the vacant position for 6 months and I would take my boss's position for 6 months starting April 1st in addition to my current position. I agreed.
A week later I had Monday off. I came back to an email from our Associate VP saying he was thinking about going to China in May and asked if my schedule would permit me to travel with him. It did. I first thought it would be a relatively short trip to Beijing and another city to visit a school we had been dealing with recently. Last week I realized that it would still be relatively short (a week or so) but will not most likely include the original two cities, a city in Hunan province and a city in Inner Mongolia (go figure).
It's turning into a very busy spring and summer at work...
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