Random Thoughts from My ADD Brain

It Lives!!

2012-01-29T20:29:00.004-06:00

Photo by ME - yes, really ME!

At approximately 5 AM on New Year's Day 2012, my three year-old Gateway home computer stopped working. I kept pushing the start button, but nothing would happen. I unplugged it. I plugged it into a different outlet. I let it sit for a day ... for a week. Still nothing.

My inner geek was determined to figure out what was wrong and if I could fix it. I opened the computer up and took a look around. Got out my compressed air in case it was just a severe case of dust bunny fever.

Then my outer realist remembered that I really don't know that much about hardware. Software, yes, I'm a wiz-kid. But figuring out which wire inside the box did what was beyond my pay grade.

I spent a couple of weeks trying to figure out which local computer place has the best reputation and the most reasonable rates. Then I sprained my ankle and became incapable of carrying any computer into a store and I certainly couldn't afford a house call. Tonight I decided that I was going to drag the computer out into the living room and eventually find a way to get it down to my car.

When I got it into the kitchen, I thought I would plug it in and try one more time. Still nothing.

About one minute later, I heard this beep-beep noise. As it had been so long since I last heard the beep-beep, I didn't recognize it. I turned around and saw lights flashing and I could hear motors whirling. It was alive! But it wasn't connected to a monitor or keyboard, so I had no idea what it was doing.

I decided to take a risk, unplug the computer and roll it back into the office and hook it up again.

I pressed the start button and nothing.

I pressed the button again and held it down for a couple of seconds. (Because I wanted to make sure it knew I was serious.) Nothing.

Then I figured I would do what I did in the kitchen and just give it a minute to consider its options. And it made the right decision.

I got the beep-beep and my computer came back to life. It was a bit messed up at first and I had to cautiously restart it a couple of times, but I updated my anti-virus software and I think this baby is going to make it.

I guess the two weeks of novenas paid off. Thanks to St. Isidore of Seville, the patron saint of computer programmers.

The positive side of a sprained ankle

2012-01-25T10:13:00.001-06:00

It's important to stay positive when facing a challenge in your life. My current challenge being my lovely sprained ankle. This is just a partial list of what I have learned thus far

Unmatched socks are not a problem
Access to better parking
Crutches can double as a very long arm
Wheelchair rides at the airport
Pre-boarding with the first class flyers
Being called a "trooper"
Friends and co-workers with knee-scooter-envy
Scooter doubles as a chair, if needed
Being able to separate people into two groups: those who want to see your multi-colored foot and those who don't
Low expectations of being on time for meetings

Slip Sliding

2012-01-23T16:22:00.001-06:00

Last Tuesday morning, I finally took my Christmas tree to the Olmsted County disposal/recycling area. There was this huge hill of Christmas trees waiting to be mulched. I took a photo of it and my plan was to write a post about it.

About 30 minutes after dropping off the tree, the entire plan went out the windows when I slipped and fell with my ankle taking the impact. I was in one of the Mayo subways, heading to my office. No one saw me fall, but two other Mayo staff members came upon me less than 10 seconds after I went down.

I knew that I had done something to my ankle, but figured I had only twisted it. The two saintly co-workers who happened upon me, asked if I could stand. I figured I should check out my ankle before trying to stand and what I saw just flabbergasted me. In less than a minute, this softball size "thing" had taken over my ankle. "No, I don't think I should stand on it."

If Mayo has one item in abundance, it is wheelchairs. Everywhere you go, everywhere. There are wheelchairs. One of the two grabbed a wheelchair and they got me to my office. <There must be something about pushing someone in a wheelchair that generates endorphins because everyone wanted to push me in the wheelchair that day.>

I couldn't get in for an X-ray until 2:30 and while that rather patubed me, I would guess that they got a better image after having me ice it for five hours. (That's my ankle after five hours of icing) It was just a sprain, but the recommendation was to stay off my foot for about three to four weeks and that I should expect at least eight to ten week until full recovery.

"Here's your crutches and an aircast and a boatload of paperwork for the workman's comp claim. Good luck and have a nice day."

It didn't take me long to figure out I would not do well on crutches and that trying to hobble around the Mayo campus is just not practical. So I talked my way into a knee caddy, a glorified scooter with a wire basket. I know I look a bit funny, but at least I'm getting around campus. (and my scooter is nothing like my mom's walker, Cousin Allyson!)

To add to the fun, I'm traveling almost every weekend for skating. This past weekend was to snowy Chicago. The key to success was getting the wheelchair assistance right away. I was flying Southwest Airlines that has open seating, but I qualified for pre-boarding seating. Front row to Chicago and back!

Absolutely nothing went off as planned for the trip down to Chicago. The flight was postponed, then they combined two flights to Midway together, but didn't bother to combine the luggage. I got into Midway at 11, waited one hour to learn that my luggage was still in MSP and wouldn't arrive until the next day, waited another 45 minutes to get a cab to take me to my hotel in deep, dark suburbia, and another 45 minutes to get me there.

I travel to Pennsylvania later this week and have to make a connection in Cincinnati, so I'm praying that everything goes better than this. At least the destination will make the trip worthwhile - Hershey, PA! Chocolate heals everything!

Computerless

2012-01-13T13:24:00.000-06:00

I finally have an absolutely legitimate excuse for this lapse in blogging. My home computer died.

It had been acting funky for awhile, but shortly after New Year's, it stopped working. I kept pushing the power button, but nothing would happen. It had done this a couple of times before, but would eventually come back to life. After two days of trying different configurations, I accepted the fact it wasn't coming back.

My first instinct was to head to Best Buy and get a new one. But the reality of my budget was saying no. And dang it all, why did I decide to stop using my credit cards as my New Year's resolution? UGH! Cuz you know that Best Buy always has some six months/no interest deal going on.

Second instinct - take the computer in to Best Buy and drop it off with the Geek Squad. I'm pretty sure it's the starter that's shot, but I'm not as smart about the inside workings of a computer as I should be. I took the cover off the computer and gave it a gander, but seriously, what was I expecting to see? I've been a huge fan of the Geek Squad for years - even before they sold out to BB - but it costs about $80 just for them to tell you what's wrong with it.

There are OTHER computer repair places in Rochester, but I have to get some recommendations from the locals before I trust someone.

So how have I managed to last this long without my home computer? Surprisingly well. I've used Carbonite back-ups for the last three or four years. Through that service, I have a complete back-up of my computer's hard drive available to me online. All my pictures, all my music, etc. Yippee!

And it's not like I don't have access to other devices. I have my work computers, my iPad, my iPhone-turned-iTouch, and my crappy Android phone that I regret buying. Plus I have a netbook computer that I've hooked up to my big monitor, keyboard, mouse and printer so they don't get dusty. It really looks stupid and I'm not using it, but I set it up JUST in case.

So that's my goal for next week: Take my computer somewhere for evaluation. Find out if it can be fixed or if we have to take it out back and shoot it.

If Tim Tebow can pray for a touchdown, is it wrong to start a Novena for my computer? And who exactly is the patron saint of computers?

How Facebook has killed the Christmas letter

2011-12-22T16:54:00.002-06:00

I have very clear memories of my mother spending hours and hours organizing herself to prepare Christmas cards for mailing to family and friends. She would camp out at the dinner room or kitchen table for a couple of days and work from her list.

Each card was selected from her stash with the particular addressee in mind. She would take the time to hand write a note telling the receiver of all the news from the Harty household in the past year. She would hand address each envelope and her one shortcut was the pre-printed return address labels she received from St. Jude's.

Having this as my role model creates lots of pressure. I can still hear her critical comments when she would receive a Christmas card in return with no personal note. Even worse were the ones where the people would have their names pre-printed on the inside of the card. Lazy people, can't even sign their names. It might even have been an insult for her.

Fast forward to the late 1980's/early 1990's, when it started being trendy to include a Christmas letter with your card. (I think this was acceptable to mom, but at a much lower standard)

I remember when my friends started sending Christmas letters where they would either outline the many successes of their offspring or the fabulous locations they had traveled that year. Or worse, both. Since I could talk about neither (unless I listed the ice rinks that I had visited in the past year), I would just use my creative writing skills and make them humorous, but still include various tidbits of what I had done in the past year. I did Top Ten lists, I wrote poems. Anything to distract from my semi-pitiful life.

A few years ago, I started doing a Christmas blog (Ye Olde Yule Blog) and would send everyone an email with a link to the blog post. I would claim "green," but honestly it was just so much easier and cheaper. (You don't claim "lazy.")

Now, because of Facebook, I don't even do the Yule Blog. I'm diligent in posting updates, so people can know my every move and thought (and isn't that something everyone wants to know??). And with so many people in my demographic group who are now on Facebook, I think the list of non-Facebook people to whom I would send a card is fairly small.

Regardless of that fact, right now, a bunch of boxes of Christmas cards are stacked on my kitchen island for the non-Facebook list and I'm lacking motivation. I worry if I work on these cards, my resentment might sneak through and I might write something like, "why the heck are you not on Facebook?" or give them a warning that unless they join Facebook, they risk being cut off from receiving highly-valued information about me. I mean, that's got to be a motivating factor, right?

Walking into the stream

2011-12-20T14:29:00.001-06:00

Have you heard the phrase, "you never step into the same stream twice"? As a very non-philosophical person, I think it's a bit lame. For other non-philosophers, it means that, even if things look the same, everything has changed.

Or maybe I think it's a bit lame because I've had to accept its meaning whether I want to or not.

We've all had to accept it at some point in our lives. Those who don't, must live in their own happy, little world. The realization of the truth can be depressing, so denial can kick in.

A great example of this experience happens to most of us in our first year of college. During high school you were part of an awesome group, be it a choir, a band or a sports team. The memories can create a physical feeling of euphoria for you. And you want to go back to the experience and have those feelings again. But you're disappointed when you try and nothing happens. It's not the same group of people or the people who are still there, their lives have changed and moved on.

It's your clue to move on.

I don't know if many people have similar experiences when they're older, but being older doesn't make it easier. I know because I've had to face the facts and move on.

Fifteen years ago, I joined a choir with no clue as to what an amazing experience I was about to have and the people I'd meet who would enrich my life. I had sung in plenty of choirs, but nothing like this one. It was a large choir with almost 100 members in a church with amazing acoustics. The power we would feel when we belted out a song and have it reverberate off the walls for ~~hours~~ 10 seconds just rocked.

The Catholic Church is not known for their strong choral tradition - because they don't have one. This choir was an exception and we were proud of that fact. We cared about each other and I thought of them as my extended family. Christmas and Easter were marathons, but we thrived on them.

In 2006, I had to take a 18-month leave from the choir to work on my master's thesis and the 2008 U.S. Figure Skating Championships (not to mention a full-time job). When I came back in March 2008, I immediately felt like an outsider, an intruder. It can be disconcerting when your expectation was to be able to step back into that stream as if it had been frozen in time.

I tried to reconnect, but it didn't work. Worse, it was affecting my mood, so I realized that it was time to move on. So without any fanfare or goodbyes, I was done.

Last week, the choir was giving a concert and I thought about going. I almost talked myself out of it thinking it would only cause me to be sad. But after getting some encouragement from a friend, I attended the concert.

The choir still is amazing and the music helped put me in the Christmas mood. Although there were many hugs and hellos, nothing was the same. I still felt like an outsider looking in, but it was easier because it was what I had expected.

I could step into the stream and not get swept away.

You'll never understand

2011-12-06T11:56:00.001-06:00

You'll never understand because I don't think I even understand why I choose to be a figure skating judge.

Let me be clear, I know that I continue to be a judge because I love the sport and have become friends with people I would never have had the opportunity to meet, if not for being a judge.

What I question is my sanity for wanting to advance as a judge. There are various levels and disciplines for skating judges and to be "promoted" (quotes due to the fact that it is a volunteer position), you have to trial judge.

Trial judging means that you go to a select competition and pretend you're one of the officials judging the event. After the event, you compare your marks to that of the official panel and then talk about what you did within a small group (usually other trial judges) and explain why you did what you did. The discussion is led by a JET.

I won't leave you wondering how airplanes can talk or how we get the plane into the ice rink. JET stands for Judges Education and Training and our upper level judges volunteer to serve as a JET at these select competitions. The right JET can make or break your trial judging experience. I've been fortunate during my experiences to have a great JET 90% of the time. I choose to mentally block out the times when the JET makes you feel like you're a complete idiot or you watch as they rip another trial judge to shreds.

The optimal outcome for a trial judge is to agreed with the official panel and have your marks in range with theirs. But you also have to able to defend your decisions. And when you have ADD, that isn't always easy. (short term memory can be impacted by ADD)

I traveled to Ann Arbor this past weekend to trial judge a synchronized team skating competition. Being a Synchro trial judge is a challenge because unlike Singles and Pairs (regular skating for you Muggles), you only have two or three selected competitions all year to trial judge while Singles and Pairs usually have 6 or 7.

Trialing can be an emotional roller coaster as you stress about your marks and what you say in post-event discussion. Did I sound like an idiot? What will the JET think of my answer? (generally you pray that the JET doesn't call on you unless you're sure you have the right answer.) If one of your marks is out of range for the official panel, you would be asked to explain. In other words, please explain what you were thinking during the 20 seconds of an element you saw an hour ago.

It's important to take notes. It is equally important to be able to read your notes when called upon by the JET. "I can't read my writing" or "I don't remember why I did that" are not acceptable answers. I've also learned to admit when I made a mistake.

It's expensive to trial judge because trial judges have to pay their own travel expenses. Airfare from Minneapolis to Detroit runs between $350-$400 round trip, and a hotel room is about $100 per night. Generally the host club requires trial judges to pay a fee to cover the added expense of having trial judges. I've paid anywhere from $20 to $100 for a two-day competition.

And you don't just do one competition in a season. Oh no, you would generally do two or three competitions in a season if you want to get the promotion before you hit retirement age. So take the afore mentioned costs and multiple them times three. So you have to get creative. I was able to afford this past weekend because I found a last minute $200 roundtrip airfare, I had a friend who let me stay with her in her hotel room, and I split the cost of car rental with another trial judge - she got a killer deal of $35 for the entire weekend.

I had a couple of stressful moments this past weekend after hearing one of the official judges talk about her marks for an event and realizing that I was much lower than her. When I was finally able to see the final results, I was indeed lower than her, but there were 6 judges on the panel and not all of them were as high in their marks.

So I guess I didn't have to drown my sorrows at the bar that night, but it sure felt good.

Home Ownership - NOT!

2011-11-30T20:00:00.000-06:00

As of this afternoon, I am no longer a home owner. It was a long and, at times, ridiculous path to sell the condo with more and more hoop jumping requested by the bank.

I've talked about my problems with the bank - classic one hand not knowing what the other hand is doing. And that continued until the very bitter end.

When I had a viable offer and the bank had finished processing their paperwork (which only took from August to November!!), their lawyers notified me that the bank had ended the foreclosure proceedings and, if the pending sale did fall through, I would be able to do deed-in-lieu-of-foreclosure. Deed-in-lieu is basically just giving them the keys.

Speaking of keys and one hand not knowing blah, blah, blah ... <outstanding transition, eh?>, I got quite the surprise earlier this month. The buyers were going to do a final walk-through with their contractor on November 11th. Brian (my agent) called to ask me if I knew what happened to the lock-box with the keys. It wasn't hanging on the garage door. Ironically, I had discovered it was missing just the day before, but assumed that he had taken the lock-box down because of the sale approval.

I told him not to worry, that I was going to St. Paul the very next day to do a final cleaning of the place (lots of odds and ends left in the condo as well as more than a few condiments in the fridge). I would get a new lock-box, put a set of my keys in it, and would leave it hanging on the garage.

The next day I looked around the complex to see if someone just put the lock-box on someone else's garage by mistake. Nope. So I headed into the building and up the stairs to my condo.

Just looking at the condo door, I immediately knew something was different. The dead bolt and door knob looked far too shiny. Well, my bank and/or their legal minions had cut off the lock-box and changed the locks on the condo door. They would later explain that they were worried about the place since no one was living there.

When I returned to Rochester, I gathered all the remaining keys - building key, garage door key and mail box keys - and sent them to Brian and he contacted the bank to get the new keys. It only took the bank two weeks to figure out which minion had the keys. Brian received them just this morning - the morning of the closing!

I know that I'll miss some parts of being a home owner - going to Home Depot to pick out paint and hanging pictures using whatever method I want - but I'm not going to miss the stress of mortgage payments and condo association dues and having financial decisions that impact me decided by a vote of association members. I'm not going to miss the neighbor who had memorized the association rules and would tattle if you broke any.

I'm done with being a home owner for awhile. Anyone need a room painted?

Misunderstood

2011-11-16T22:30:00.000-06:00

I am a member of the most misunderstood, despised, and maligned groups in the world.

I am a figure skating judge.

And while the vitriol about the evil figure skating judges only really comes on strong every four years, it is not an easy life.

Figure skating judges live their lives of quiet desperation in cold, dark places known as ice rinks. We travel as vagabonds from one location to another, following a trail of multi-colored sequins that lead us to the next competition.

We sequester ourselves away from the rest of humanity at the rink since we have accepted the fact that we scare small skaters and, quite often, their parents. We hear their hushed voices, whispering, "That's one of the judges..." as they turn their heads away.

We spend endless hours in ice rinks, sitting rink-side and freezing our patooties off. (I'm certain that there are parts of my anatomy that have perma-frost and may never completely thaw out.)

When our friends discover a wool winter coat in our car on a hot and humid July afternoon, they assume that we're lazy and just never got around to bringing it into the house. The reality is, if you flip open the trunk of most judges' vehicles during any month of the year, you will find boots, wool socks, mittens, gloves, a warm coat and an assortment of fleece blankets with figure skating club logos. We must be ready for service at a moment's notice.

We are volunteers. While we don't get paid, we often receive gift cards (or fleece blankets). At anytime, you can find in our wallets 3 Barnes & Nobles, 2 Caribous, 2 Paneras and a partially used Starbucks.

There are many misconceptions about us. We are not, as a majority, French. Most of us don't own mink coats and the closest we will get to judging the Olympics is yelling at the 53" flat panel TV in the family room.

So please, as I begin my crazy time of year, when I have a competition nearly every weekend from now through spring, be kind to me. And if some Monday morning, you find me wandering around the office with a clip board looking for the judges stand, just tell me the event got canceled and I can go back to the hospitality room. I'll snap out of it eventually.

Bad blogger feeling good about what I did

2011-11-09T21:04:00.002-06:00

I'm very much feeling like a neglectful blogger. I haven't posted since September 26th. And there are plenty of ~~reasons~~ excuses for the absence.

My number one excuse is <wait for it now ...> I was distracted. I had a huge skating project that I can honestly say I was ill-prepared for and was basically flying by the seat of my pants. My own stubbornness put me in this position and I had a lot to do that I couldn't delegate to anyone else because I hadn't even figured it out for myself.

When I have something hanging over my head, my focus <at least the very little that I have> goes right out the window. Add to that I was stressing about it, so just as I would get into bed, my brain would fire up and start problem solving while my body wanted and needed sleep. It was bad.

Excuse number two is see excuse number one.

The project was the Minnesota Basic Skills Competition Series. It is for our beginning skaters (you know, those cute little ones with the cute little outfits that make you go, "Aww...") and I took it on because "the powers that be" wanted to make it exclusive instead of inclusive. I'm not about excluding any club or any skater. I recognize that I wasn't fabulously organized at the start, but eventually things started moving forward. Then, this summer, I got word that the rug was being pulled out from underneath me and I would have to shutter the series after one year.

The final part of the series is the on-ice award ceremony for the skaters in each level who accumulated the most points. Honestly, I think it is the most important part because it's about the kids and only the kids. They get to skate out to the podium just like they see on the Olympics. I placed a medal around their necks and told them what a great job they did and then I would step out of the way so the parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles in the stands could take photos. And boy did they!

But the event is over now with some minor clean-up to do, but most importantly, I felt great at the end because I helped to make some young skaters feel very special and I had parents thank me for doing it. Having a parent thank me? That was huge.

I've heard that the new Basic Skills series (the one replacing the Minnesota Basic Skills series) isn't planning on doing the on-ice awards. They planned to just mail the awards out to the skaters or something. After seeing what it meant to these skaters this past Saturday, I am happy to hear that they are reconsidering it.

Ya gotta take those little victories.

Dear Wayward Facebook Friend

2011-09-26T07:00:00.000-05:00

I will be the first to admit that I'm a techie geek and that I absorb everything I possibly can about social media. On the negative side of this "personality trait," I can be a techie snob who will roll my eyes when I read a Facebook status update that's really just a rumor or something lame - Facebook is going to start charging, etc.

To help me get my frustrations out without releasing my evil twin upon the world, I started writing letters that I'll never send. Here are two examples of past letters that I thought I would share with you, now that sufficient time as passed.

Dear Wayward Facebook Friend,

I realize that you're not a Facebook genius and that it is really just one step above a regular website for you, but there are some Facebook functions that I would like to bring to your attention. I'll go slowly as I know that sometimes your dial-up connection loads the pages slowly on your Commodore 64.

There's this handy, time-saving function called "Facebook Notifications" that I love. I have my preferences (which are my way of telling Facebook how I want it to behave) set to send me an email anytime someone posts something on my wall. So as soon as you write something on my wall and hit enter, Facebook sends me an email with your entire message contained within it.

Now I tell you this because, for some reason, you deleted your recent comment from my Facebook wall. Since it was a rather innocuous comment, the fact that you deleted it baffled the heck out of me.

And thus leads me to my next point, deleting comments. I'm okay with people changing their minds and deleting something they've written on a friend's wall, particularly if said comment was written on a Friday night after consuming an adult beverage or two. I would especially recommend hitting delete if the aforementioned comment causes mutual friends (of which we share many), to message me with the subject line, "WTF?"

Please take the time to learn about these lovely Facebook features.

Sincerely,

me

The second letter was written a couple of years ago when I was employed at a place that is NOT my current employer.

Dear Wayward Facebook Friend whom I am currently blocking,

I am writing to explain how social media works since you have so obviously not bothered to understand how this new communication system works.

I believe that you're aware that social media marketing is one part of my job description and that, unlike other staffers, I may be on Facebook for several hours each day. It's called "listening." I need to know what is being said out there. You should also know that I do my work utilizing my own personal account. (something I will be changing very soon.)

I know that you know about PTO - also known as vacation. I know that you know about it as it seems that you take a lot of it. Well, don't be shocked, but PTO is also offered to other staff members. There are times between 8 and 5 Monday through Friday that I may be on Facebook, but not at work. That's okay. Utilizing Facebook during vacation is normal.

During these non-work hours, I might talk about non-work related hobbies like figure skating - a hobby that eats up much of my free time and, to be honest, much of my vacation time.

I'm telling you all this because you felt it was important to inform my supervisor that I'm spending way too much time on Facebook and that I'm talking about topics that are not work related. While my supervisor may have acted shocked and told you that "it" would be discussed, please understand that my supervisor has a clue and the information only caused me to roll my eyes and shake my head.

I have only one thing I would love to say to you: in order for you to "tattle" on my abundant Facebook frequency, you would also have to be on Facebook for several hours. See the correlation?

So, I have taken it upon myself to un-friend you (Google it) and block you from ever seeing my activity.

Enjoying my obvious superiority,

me

Remembering the day that changed the world

2011-09-11T12:54:00.001-05:00

In the past ten years, I have watched countless documentaries on September 11, 2001 hoping to understand why and how something like that could happen. I even read the 9/11 Commission Report. But in the end, I've concluded that my brain may understand the facts, but my humanity cannot and will not comprehend it.

I was running late to work because I was watching the Today Show talking about a plane hitting the World Trade Center. Suddenly another plane hit the second tower. It was the moment of realization that it wasn't an accident.

As I arrived to my office at Hamline University, our secretary was listening to the reports on her radio. We tried to focus on our work, but every 15 to 20 minutes, the situation changed. Another plane had crashed into the Pentagon. One of the tower collapsed. The second tower collapsed. There might be more planes.

I couldn't stay at work. I went home before noon and sat on my couch and watched the news. And I cried. I cried a lot.

I started emailing friends on the East Coast to be sure they were okay. I finally reached my best friend that afternoon. She was in St. Louis and trying to get home, but with all the planes grounded, she didn't know when that would happen. Mary and I had a long history of talking on the phone while watching history unfold on TV - first time was when Baby Jessica was pulled out of the well. Talking with her provided a small piece of normal to an extremely un-normal day.

In 2001, I was a member of the Basilica of St Mary Cathedral Choir. We were asked to sing at the prayer service at the Basilica that evening. It was the perfect place for me to be since the choir was my family. I found a lot of peace being with them, singing together and from the words and the emotions shared at the service.

The Basilica was packed that night as everyone was needing the same thing. I remember walking to the back of the church during the recessional and seeing everyone was crying. And whenever I see someone cry, I cry. Crying came so easy that day.

In the days that followed 9/11, it were the news reports from New York City that impacted me the most. Pictures of the missing were posted all over New York, asking anyone who may have seen their loved one to let them know. The TV reporters would let the people searching to talk about their loved ones and you could hear the pain and desperation in their voices. And I would cry.

I had a small obsession in the days following the WTC attack. I would look at all the photos of Ground Zero and search for office furniture in the rubble and debris. There were thousands of chairs in the tower, how could there not be a single photo with office chairs or desks among the debris? It was just dust and beams and paper.

In the weeks that followed 9/11, the New York Times started running short stories about the 2,600+ people who died at the World Trade Center and I would read them every day. And I would cry.

I didn't know anyone who died in attacks, yet I cried and it took months before I would stop.

In the past week or so, I've been watching the special coverage of 10th Anniversary of 9/11 and I still cry, but not like before.

As I said, my brain understands the facts of 9/11, but my humanity never will. If I do, I think I'll be lost.

I was nearly wrong

2011-09-09T21:23:00.000-05:00

Sometimes, milestone birthdays freak people out.

And no matter how many times you tell them that having a birthday beats the alternative of not having birthdays, some will still feel uncomfortable with the aging process.

I remember back to July 2001, telling my best friend that turning forty is no big deal. After all, I had done it 18 months prior, so she should be able to handle it. I reminded her of everything she had accomplished in her life and her two beautiful daughters.

This conversation happened when she was home visiting Minnesota. As we went our separate ways - she was flying back to Atlanta while I was heading home to Saint Paul to start a new job August 1st - I joked with her one last time and told her, "The world won't end if you turn 40, so enjoy your day."

Mary's 40th birthday was September 12, 2001. I was nearly wrong.

When will I have my heart attack?

2011-09-06T14:48:00.001-05:00

That sounds like a silly question, but in reality it is a pretty important one.

I was surprised to learn that a 37-year-old former co-worker had a heart attack last month. She blessedly survived, but hearing the news just set me back on my heels. Jen is a healthy, active (i.e. marathon runner) mom of two and I would never imagine that she would have a heart attack.

Me? Have a heart attack? That's just far too easy to imagine. I've been thinking about it since I was 11.

[Flashback sequence] During an exam with a new pediatrician, he was concerned about the slow pace of my heart. I had to do a stress test right away and that freaked out my mom. He couldn't find anything wrong with my heart and I'm sure mom's heart must have stopped several times during the visit.

Immediately after the appointment, we stopped by my dad's office (which was right next door to the clinic) and, after hearing the story, he chuckled and told mom that I have the Harty heart; my heart just didn't go as fast as others. His mom had the same issue as did her mom. It's a family thing.

As any 11-year-old will do, I shrugged it off and moved on.

I think I was in junior high (1970's) when the cardiologists at Mayo Clinic found a blockage in my dad's aorta. They didn't operate because they felt the surgical mortality rate was too high. From that point on, our family started waiting for something to happen.

In 1988, my dad had emergency quintuple bypass surgery at Saint Marys Hospital and for the next six years, we had many trips to Rochester.

In April 1994, my dad suffered congestive heart failure and passed away. In the weeks leading up to his death, his diabetes was out-of-control and that also contributed to the heart failure.

In doing my family genealogy, I was able to view the death certificates of many of my ancestors. Both my Grandma Harty's (my dad's mother) and my great-grandmother's (her mom) death certificates listed the same cause of death: congestive heart failure with complications from diabetes.

So that's what Dad meant about having the Harty heart. Oh, joy.

So what have I done about avoiding my family's legacy? Actually very little because who has heart attacks in their 40's? I figured I would start worrying about it in my late 50's.

I guess I have been lying to myself. It's time for me to be pro-active and learn about heart disease, get off my duff to start exercising, and start eating right to avoid diabetes.

All things considered, I just might be over-due and running on luck.

P.S. My former co-worker has started a blog about her experiences and recovery, you might want to check it out. She's a fabulous writer.

I think I'm supposed to care about this

2011-08-31T15:15:00.000-05:00

For the last ten plus years, the Minnesota Vikings have been trying to convince the State of Minnesota that we should build a new football stadium for the team to play in. That Metrodome is SO yesterday and, besides, [be sure to say this in a whiney voice] "all the other kids (re: sports teams) have got a new place to play." (Granted, Target Center needs an update.)

I'm sure I'm supposed to care about this and have a solid, unchanging opinion. Only I don't. Because I really don't care. I'm either supposed to be upset that we're building a sports stadium during a tough economy or that we're missing an opportunity to create jobs by funding this big project.

Maybe it's because I don't care about the Vikings. I think the last time I gave them a second thought and actually watched a game, Ahmed Rashad was still on the team. Or maybe it was when Tarkington was quarterback. Can't remember and don't want to waste any brain cells contemplating it.

I hear people talk about Minnesota losing the Vikings to Los Angeles and how horrible that would be to our economy. I guess I doubt that because I figure those discretionary dollars maybe would be spent on tickets for the Wild, Twins, Wolves, Saints or Lynx instead. If they want to go to amateur sporting event, we have the Gophers and our high school leagues. Honestly, if you've never been to state hockey tournament, why do you live in Minnesota? If football is the only sport you care about, you must not be a Minnesota native.

I wish people would get as passionate about funding our schools and educating our kids as they do about building a football stadium for the Vikings.

Jealous, a bit

2011-08-30T15:47:00.000-05:00

It's been almost a year since I started my job here at Mayo Clinic and moved to the Rochester area. Shortly after moving, I put my condo on the market, knowing that I will have to do a short sale since the condo market had tanked.

www.nataliedee.com

I was thrilled in May when I finally had an offer and the Realtor (Brian) sent stacks and stacks of paperwork to the bank for processing the sale. Brian told me that it usually takes about six to eight weeks before we would hear back from the bank with the answer. However, Brian had worked with this bank a lot and they had been getting the paperwork through at a much faster pace. Great news!

At the same time, two of my co-workers here at Mayo were also in the process of selling their homes. Since I knew the stress of waiting, I wasn't even sure I should mention my news. Jessie' townhome had been on the market since January or so and wasn't getting much activity while Alicia had just put her home on the market. Soon after my offer, Alicia got one and we were keeping our fingers crossed for Jessie.

A big surprise came at the end of July when I learned that the bank had lost all my paperwork and NOTHING on the sale of the house had been processed. Then we had to stress that the buyer might not be willing to wait to do the process ALL over again. The frosting on the cake: I received notice of pending foreclosure! (Bank: Short sale? What short sale?)

For two weeks, Brian struggled to get things straighten out with the bank. Even faxes were getting misplaced. Most of the month of August has been spent trying to get everything back on track and moving forward.

Good news arrived for Jessie in the month of August. She got an offer on her house and the buyers wanted to take possession within 2 weeks! Today, she's out of the office, at the closing. Alicia's closing is tomorrow. I will admit that I'm a bit jealous.

Okay, a lot jealous.

I knew what I was getting into when I started this journey, especially considering the economy and the housing market. I am also completely aware that there are so many short sales and foreclosures going on that the people at the bank processing those stacks and stacks of paperwork are over-whelmed. I just wish it wasn't my paperwork that they had to misplace.

You might be surprised to hear me say that the people that I've talked with at the bank have been awesome, polite and understanding. Vice versa, I've decided that there's no reason for me to treat them poorly; as individuals, it's not their fault.

You may have noticed that I haven't mentioned the bank. I could use social media lambaste them, but why bother? They've treated me like a nameless faceless person. I think I'll do the same back to them.

Regaining a slow childhood

2011-08-24T10:57:00.000-05:00

August has always held a certain amount of symbolism for me. As a child, it was the month of transition from summer vacation to the start of school. August is my warning bell.

August is a fair sandwich. The start of the month is the Freeborn County Fair, my hometown county fair, while the end of the month is the Minnesota State Fair. The State Fair starts in August, but ends on Labor Day - also known as the last un-official day of summer in Minnesota. Because in Minnesota, the day after Labor Day is the first day of school.

Then it's fall and Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas and then 2011 is over. Kinda depressing, eh? Especially for all the things that you planned to accomplish in 2011 that you haven't started yet.

Where did the time go? The days and months go faster when you're a grown-up. Why? Why, as adults, do we not get the slow lifestyle of our childhood?

Maybe it's a choice. Maybe because we try to do too much. So I thought I would challenge myself, and anyone else, to regain those slower moment between now and the end of the year.

Feel free to leave a comment and add some ideas for this 30-week challenge. Choose one thing each week to slow down and enjoy for yourself!

Lay in the grass and notice the clouds
Spend a day doing nothing except relaxing
Eat your lunch outdoors
Get a massage
Turn off all your technology for a day (try to remember what it was like to be unreachable!)
Hang out at Macy's and have them do your make-up
Have Champagne for no reason at all except to celebrate life
Call an old friend for lunch
Compliment a stranger
Compliment a co-worker
Buy fresh flowers at the Farmer's Market for your house
Ask a question and listen to the answer
Brag about yourself and something you've done (it's okay to be proud of something you've done!)
Say hello to a person on the street
Pretend that you don’t know your age
Make cookies from scratch (double the batch cuz you know you'll taste-test lots!)
Smile
Do a random act of kindness- possibly to a teacher
Write a note to someone that impresses you. don't sign it
Donate to a charity (and expect nothing in return)
Eat your favorite ice cream without thinking about the calories
Enjoy a bubble bath and a good book (the paper kind)
Look through old photos and put them in a scrapbook. Write notes in your own handwriting.
Make faces to amuse a baby

I would have preferred retail therapy

2011-08-16T08:00:00.003-05:00

Mayo Clinic opened a new space at Mall of America last week that caused lots of buzz. It's called "Create Your Mayo Clinic Health Experience"

Last week, I sort had my own "Mayo Clinic Health Experience," except it involved surgery instead retail therapy.

Alas, I gained a patient's perspective last Monday (8/8) when I had my gallbladder removed ~~laproscopicly laposcropicaly~~ thru little incisions. Perhaps because of my job at Mayo Clinic, I looked at everything differently. And hopefully, I wasn't too annoying for the staff asking them lots of questions.

It was obvious that the surgical team did not receive my list of likes and dislikes and scheduled my surgical call time for 5:45 AM. Did I mention that I am not a morning person? Even worse for my sister who was coming with me since she lives out in Mantorville and had to come and pick me up.

My surgery was at Saint Marys (SMH), which sort of surprised me, and others, since I thought most day surgeries are done out of Methodist or Gonda. Unfortunately, being at SMH would come in handy later.

The admissions lobby actually has que lines for checking in that have your check-in time on the stanchion - 5:30, 5:45, 6:00. Don't know if they change them later in the day. They pointed us over to the waiting area to be called and we hadn't even been there for a minute, when my name was called.

We went up to Joseph 1. (if you don't know SMH, it has various wings named for Saints or Nuns) I think it was a former patient floor instead of a pre-op area. Just felt like an old hospital wing. (Not that that's a bad thing)

I was given a hospital gown and robe to put on. Not bothering to read the directions, I put the gown with the opening in the front not the back. I figured the surgery was on the front part and having it open in the back didn't make sense. The nurse, of course, informed me that I would need to turn it around.

I hopped into the wheelchair and she took me through a maze of hallways to the real pre-operative center. All pre-operative areas I had been in before were private little cubicles. This one reminded me of a large service station. There were spaces for about 20 people to get prepped for surgery (IV, medications, conversations with surgical team, etc.) and each station had a metal cabinet thing, filled with devices, hanging from the ceiling. Seemed a bit Space Odyssey.

The nursing staff checked my vitals - the first of one million checks - and then they taped a small card to my gurney. OF COURSE, I had to see what was written on it. It was a check list of what has to happen before surgery. That way, other staff will know what had and hadn't been done without having to log-in to a computer. Smart.

During the 90 minute prep time, gurneys continued to be parked at the various stations and I began to say thanks for my health. I felt a bit like a lurker, even though I was a patient, too.

Best perk of pre-op area - free heated blankets.

During the wait time, a gurney was rolled into the spot directly in front of me and one row over. Unlike others, this patient was young and her mom and dad were there with her. The mom was trying her best to remain calm, but you could see she had been crying. I concluded that the young girl was a special needs child and something like a surgery could be a bit confusing. When the surgical nurses came to her gurney, one nurse talked to her in the friendliest tone I'd ever heard - like they were best friends - while the other nurse talked with the parents. I was so impressed with that young nurse. She never talked with the parents - only focusing on the patient. I saw the nurse holding her hands and I felt like they connected.

The surgeon, that I had had my pre-surgical visit with weeks ago, had a last minute trip and wasn't going to be able to do my surgery. I was very impressed when Dr. Jenkins (the surgeon, not his assistant or secretary) called me on the prior Friday to personally explain the situation. He wanted to make sure I was okay with the change. He told me all about the surgeon who was replacing him. Dr. Jenkins' last-minute meeting concerned trauma care for our soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan. Like I would argue with that!

My new surgeon was Dr. Rivera. I tried not to let the fact that she was so young I could have babysat her, bother me. She told me where my four incisions would be and that the largest one (5cm) would be in my belly button and "hardly noticeable." She told me that since she's woman too, she understood the need to keep looking good. Sweet, but not really something I was worried about.

When I was eventually rolled into one of Saint Marys bazillion surgical suites, I was greeted by the anesthesiologist and was introduced to the rest of the team. I remember moving from the gurney to surgical table and that's about it. The next thing I remember, I was in the recovery room. Really out of it, but got asked the magical question for the first time during this visit, "On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being unbearable pain, how would you rate your pain?"

I hate that question.

What if the worst pain I ever had up to that point was paper cut? I realize what and why they have to ask it, but it's all relative. I could have been a smart-ass and started to have philosophical conversation about it, but I think the drugs stifled that.

They took me back to my day-surgery room at about noon for the transition time before you get to go home. There was my sister waiting for me.

When you have surgery, you don't get to leave until your pain is below 6, you can walk around and you can pee. I only managed the first two.

For the next 6 hours, I drank as much water as I could and nothing. Nada. That's when they called for a visit from urology and to get me a bed for the night. UGH! The tech from urology did an ultrasound of my bladder to see how much I was holding in. She said about 600cc (or was ml?). I guess we have a rain gauge on our bladders. This was not good news. Can you say catheter?

I was moved up to Joseph 2 where Flavio helped get me into bed. (My sister Sue is still hanging in there with me.) All of a sudden there were about four more nurses in my room with looks of astonishment on their faces. I guess they didn't know I was coming to join them and they didn't believe Flavio when he told them I was in the room. Flavio must be a joker or something.

It was about 6 o'clock and I was hungry - hadn't had any food since the day before. I didn't have any diet restrictions, so they handed me the room service menu.

No, you read that right. The "Room Service" menu. Patients can order their meals at any time between 7 am and 7 pm and choose what they want. I knew I couldn't eat much, but I ordered a sweet potato, 1/2 chicken breast and some orange jello. (I figured I couldn't get that real hospital experience without jello)

I told Sue to go home at about 7. I would not be giving them what they want anytime soon.

Believe it or not, this was my first hospital stay. I was hospitalized when I was 3 or 4, but really have no memory of that. (I do have a great story about that childhood stay that I'll share in future post) The care was awesome, but we need donors to cover the cost of decent mattresses. Could not get comfortable and I didn't sleep much over night.

I had visitors at 6 a.m. when the rounders stopped by to check me out. They also removed my band-aids over the four incisions. Dr. Rivera kept them all small like she promised.

A member of the surgical team stopped by about 11 a.m. to check on the status of my ability to pee. Sorry. "Just so you know," she explained, "insurance won't cover another night, so if you don't pee, we'll have to send you home and show you how to catheterize yourself."

Thanks for the pep talk!

After that motivating and uplifting conversation, I became very, very determined! About 1 p.m. -SUCCESS! I was so elated that I felt like a two-year old who had conquered potty training. I was finally discharged about 5 and sent home with my Oxy (pain drugs). And home for the next couple of days would be my sister's house (just like being back home). I slept for most of the time I was there.

I'm now seven days post-surgery and I'm a bit disappointed in myself. I had poo-poo'd those who told me that it takes about three to four weeks to feel normal again. The incisions are healing, but they itch like crazy. It's my energy level that I expected to have back up by now. I had only planned on two weeks off from work.

The message from the office - take the time you need to get healthy. It's hard to admit that you might have been wrong. Especially me.

How to back up a trailer

2011-07-28T08:30:00.004-05:00

There are skills, every day skills, that our parents have taught us to make sure that we are self-reliant adults when they finally send us out into the cruel, harsh world. Some of these skills are universal such as how to change a tire, how to read a map, how to swim, how to sew a button and how to parallel park a car.

www.nataliedee.com

One skills that I'm glad that my dad taught me was how to drive a standard transmission. It amazes me that more people don't know how to do that. My dad gave me one or two lessons and then handed me the keys to our 1970 Ford Maverick. It wasn't 'four on the floor,' but 'three on the tree.' By the time I had access to the car, my three older sibs had already driven it, so shifting really only required the use of two fingers to change gears.

This past month, I have found that I lack a skill that would be extremely helpful to have. And I've learned that many of my girlfriends also lack this skill. For some reason, I've never been taught how to back up a trailer. Granted, I never needed to know how to back up a trailer until this past month, but that's besides the point.

This past month has been all about moving. Moving into my new place, moving stuff to storage and moving stuff out of my Saint Paul condo. My brother-in-law Paul has a nice sized trailer and was letting me use it. And as long as I didn't have to back it up, it wasn't a problem. Except there were going to be times when I would have to back it up.

The first day of moving into my new place, I had the trailer filled with boxes and stuff to be moved into the new locale. I was on my own that day and I was going to have to back up the trailer eventually. I made arrangements with my nephew to stop by at a pre-arranged time to back it up. About 30 minutes prior to his scheduled arrival, I sent him a text telling him that he wasn't needed, I was able to turn the trailer around.

It's important to notice that I said I turned the trailer around and not that I backed it up. There's an open field next to my new place and instead of having to back it out, I could just turn the trailer around by driving through the field.

This past Sunday, my sister Sue and I were going to be taking the final trip up to the Saint Paul condo to get move out a few remaining pieces of furniture. We wouldn't need the big trailer, we could use an old van from Paul's business. The night before, Paul asked Sue what we were moving and then reminded her that the van had shelves! We would have to use the trailer. Sue doesn't know how to back up a trailer either.

Big points to my brother-in-law; Sunday morning, he checked the Northern Tool + Equipment website and found a solution. (Kudos to Northern Tool + Equipment for being open by 9 a.m. on Sunday morning) He got a swivel wheel for the hitch and a trailer dolly. Once we got to our location, we unhooked the empty trailer from the SUV and then hooked the dolly to the trailer and Sue and I (okay, mostly Sue because I was giving directions) were able to turn the trailer around, re-hook it up to the SUV and we no longer needed to have the skills to back-up the trailer.

I still would like to learn how to do it, there's just no rush right now.

I would also like to have a standard transmission in my next car. I miss that clutch!

Recycling Convert

2011-07-22T10:31:00.001-05:00

I am a late bloomer baby boomer ... okay, not really, it just sounded fun to say.

Start again ...

I am a baby boomer born on the cusp of Gen X . The recycling movement really came into being during my college years and I remember recycling aluminum cans and later newspapers.

I'll be honest, I've never been a good recycler, mostly because recycling bins always took up too much space in my traditionally small apartment/condo. I would recycle cans and newspapers since it never seemed a hassle to organize and recycle them.

The condo complex where I lived in Saint Paul made it pretty easy to recycle with several labeled bins alongside our garages, but I was still only doing the cans and newspapers until my niece Kelly lived me for a summer. Kelly is a Gen Y kid and recycling to her is an expectation and just a part of keeping a home. She got my recycling going that summer, but the habit didn't stick.

In my defense, I do use those reusable shopping bags. I just always forget to bring them in when I go to the store.

In the last 10 months, while living with my sister and her family, I caught the recycling bug because Dodge County, where they live, makes recycling as easy as falling off a log. You don't have to separate your recyclables; they let you mix them together! (thus less space) One of the cabinets in their kitchen island is set up to hold two recycling bins, so you just have to dump things in there. Eazy peezy.

So, now I've moved into my new digs in swanky NW Rochester. It's a newer building and is managed by a reputable company here in Rochester (Paramark). So, I was more than a bit surprised when I inquired where the recycling area is, only to be told that there isn't one. I was so stunned that I asked the question a second time because I was SURE that the manager had just misunderstood my question.

I'm not sure what was more unexpected - that there isn't any recycling at an apartment complex or that I was disappointed in the fact that there isn't any recycling at my new home.

For the last two weeks, a good part of my living room had been taken over by a growing stack of flattened cardboard boxes that I had planned to put in the complex's recycling area. I had also started putting my cans, newspapers and plastic bottles into bags for recycling. Here I was all ready to be responsible and I got shot down.

With a new, and highly unusual, determination, I used the Google to look up "recycling in Olmsted County Minnesota." I found a recycling center on the other side of town where you can bring your recycling, they just can't be mixed together. Okay, I can live with that.

So last night, I loaded up my car with that stack of cardboard and the bags of newspapers and cans, ready for my first of many trips to the recycling center. This morning, before going to work, I drove across town and went through the recycling drive-thru, with its several, clearly-marked bins for the various materials. I unloaded my stuff and drove on to work feeling highly satisfied and a bit smug.

I've also started thinking about how I can set up sorting bins in my new place ... When did I become a tree hugger?

Maybe I am a late-bloomer, baby boomer after all.

Oh the gall!

2011-07-21T13:43:00.002-05:00

I'm counting down the days till my gall bladder surgery. Nineteen days from now, I'll be going under the knife here at Mayo Clinic.

Lately, I've been doing a lot of video taping for various projects (Have flip cam, will travel) and since any personal medical issue I have is an opportunity to show what we do here at Mayo Clinic, I'm wondering if I can bring in my flip cam for the surgery.

"Oh hey, Dr. Jenkins, is it okay if I just put my tripod on the gurney with me?"

I've already signed a release to allow Mayo to video tape the surgery which they don't expect to do, so why can't it work both ways? Think about it...you would have the rare opportunity to see me in a loose-fitting gown that isn't in my color palette AND I'll be wearing those sexy compression hosiery.

Thinking about it further, maybe I should just do the pre and post-surgery. Shooting the surgery would mean exposure and let's just say "my core" isn't as toned as I would like it to be. (Not that it ever has been)

Many people have been surprised by the fact that I scheduled my surgery almost five weeks out instead of doing it immediately. "oh, you must be in so much pain." I might be spontaneous on most parts of my life, but with things like this, my inner control freak comes out.

I couldn't do it in early July because of the move - can't lift more than 10 pounds after the surgery. Then there were work retreats during the last two weeks of July that I didn't want to miss and, well, the first week of August is the Freeborn County Fair and my bestest friend will be home that week.

My calendar appeared pretty open after that and Dr. Jenkins seemed fine with the date, so August 8th it is! He just told me that if I start to have a lot of pain or start to turn yellow, I have to go in early. Well, if it works with my schedule...

The whole gall stone thing surprised me because, after doing lots of Web surfing, Dr. Harty had diagnosed kidney stones and figured, "these, too, shall pass." Only they didn't.

Bummer.

Failure

2011-07-13T08:30:00.003-05:00

I'm trying to be positive here, but the first four days living in my new abode have not gone smoothly. Packing and unpacking and organizing was the easy part. Each day I've faced one failure after another and I'm beginning to think I may be cursed or something.

It started on Saturday with the installation of DirecTV. I've had DirecTV for years and I love it. I got a great deal with upgrades and an internet bundle because of the move and I was feeling a tiny bit smug with not having to use the dreaded Charter Communications. The installer was coming between 8 and noon Saturday morning. I called DirecTV at 11:50 am because I hadn't heard anything. Seems the installer was lost.

When he arrived, I showed him the deck where the dish would have to sit because of the restrictions of the apartment management company. He was quick to point out that I had a western exposure and not a "clear view of the southern sky." He wasn't going to be able to install it and I was now without television service.

At least I wouldn't have to pay a cancellation fee to DirecTV because there was no way they could get service. On Sunday, DirecTV called to tell me that they have to send a technician out to my place to verify that they couldn't put a dish up before they would cancel my contract. "They'll call you to schedule a time." Seriously? I am not waiting for someone to show up when you just have to look at my deck from the outside and you can see the problem. I still haven't heard from the technician and DirecTV still hasn't confirmed the cancellation of my account.

And now I'm feeling bad for telling the people at Charter to take a hike; I would have to grovel now to get cable service.

The second part of my DirecTV bundle was Qwest Internet service and that would start on Monday. I called Qwest on Monday because I hadn't received my information and they told me that UPS was delivering my modem that day. Strange, I told them that I didn't need a modem since I already had one. The service was to be switched on Monday at 5 p.m., but I wouldn't get the modem until Tuesday afternoon (I had to reschedule the UPS delivery).

There are seven combination phone/cable jacks in the condo; two in each room and one in the kitchen. I followed the installation directions step-by-step, but it wasn't working. I called Qwest customer service and they were no help. They didn't know which jack was the one that was activated; I would have to check all of them. Customer service asked me what time it was - I said 5:50 p.m. "Oh, maybe the service isn't on yet. If you wait an hour or so, then try again." Their records said that my service was to be turned on at 5 pm on Tuesday not Monday. And it didn't say which time zone for that 5 pm.

I checked all the jacks and then waited two hours and tried them all again. No luck. I called Qwest Customer Service a second time. They said that since I don't have regular phone service (who does anymore?), they couldn't tell me what the issue was. They would be happy to send a technician out and check the outside lines to see what the issue is. If they couldn't determine the issue on the outside, they would need to come in and check the inside wiring for "a nominal fee of $85."

I laughed out loud and repeated what she said back to her - "a nominal fee of $85!? Forget it! Cancel my order. I'll ship you back the modem tomorrow." Oh, no, I would have to call a different number in the morning to cancel the order. UGH!!

I'll also have to call the Charter Communications guy and find out if they would add Internet service to my cable TV order. Grovel, grovel...

The 800-pound squirrel in the room

2011-07-11T14:16:00.001-05:00

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I'm in the midst of an adventure that I less-than-lovingly call The Never-Ending Move. This past weekend, I was finally able to move into my new apartment in NW Rochester. It has not been an easy move and it has certainly not been a very well organized move.

Since I started my job in Rochester and put my Saint Paul condo on the market last fall, my worldly goods have been scattered to various locations. In this case, various locations means three locations - a storage unit in Albert Lea, my sister's place in Mantorville and the Saint Paul condo.

I wish I could say that there was a thoughtful and organized plan behind it all, but there wasn't. I took whatever I thought I couldn't live without to my sister's; put whatever seemed to be clutter at the condo in storage and left the rest in Saint Paul.

Now it's time to bring everything back together and I can honestly tell you, I'm a mess. The condo is a mess and I have no idea where anything is right now.

Two weeks ago, I packed up a few things from the Saint Paul condo (enough to fill the PT Cruiser) and then last weekend, we grabbed several boxes and pieces of furniture from the storage unit and put them into a trailer. I spent many hours last week, organizing my belongings at my sisters and prepared for the move.

Saturday morning, I unloaded the trailer into my garage and started moving things into the new place. Since I was on my own on Saturday, I would carry up a couple of boxes and then unpack them before I go back down for another load.

Sunday was designated for moving the furniture and belongings from my sister's place. Due to unfortunate circumstances, my sister Sue and my nephew Riley had to help me move. Riley and his baseball team were supposed to be playing in the state tournament, but didn't make the final cut, so instead Sue and Riley got to help me move. (I swear I did not pray for that to happen, but I was thankful for the help)

In about 90 minutes, we got all the boxes into the apartment and got the bed set up. After that I sent Sue and Riley on their way (to Flapdoddles).

That's when the 800 pound squirrel broke into my house.

There must have been 50 boxes scattered between the kitchen, living room, bathroom, bedroom and office (oh, and the closets). Logically, you would take a box, unpack it, put things away and move on to the next box.

Logically isn't an adverb used for most people with ADD, at least not in the face of mountains of boxes. Here's an example of how my "unpacking" went yesterday.

Unpacking a box with clothing, I decide to sort them into two piles: stuff I can wear and stuff I wish I could still wear (wink, wink).
'Oh, I should put these into another tub to put back into storage...'

I realize there is empty tub in the bedroom and wander in there to get it. I spot a box with stuff for the bathroom and stop to pick it up and take it into the bathroom, where I unpack it.

Then I go back into the bedroom where I found the box and start to sort the socks before I put them into the dresser. As I'm doing that, I notice that I haven't found the pillows for my bed yet and go back out into the living room to find the pillows, only to notice that I never got the tub for the "non-fitting" clothes.

At this rate, I might be unpacked by Labor Day.

Moves in the field

2011-07-01T13:46:00.000-05:00

The month of July will be all about moves.

The move into my new apartment. The move into my new office. And, most importantly, the move OUT of my condo when (keeping my fingers crossed) the bank approves the sale.

The office move will be the simple part, at least for me. The move was at my request as I realized that my great experiment was not a success. Our division of Mayo Clinic Public Affairs decided to have a collaborative space for those people working on our intranet team. This is an open space with six cubes, three offices with doors but no ceiling, and a meeting space that I call the penalty box, not because it is for bad kids, but because it is an glass enclosed meeting space.

www.nataliedee.com

I was one of the six people to share the cube area and although I was concerned how someone with ADD was going to do in a situation ripe with distractions, I said I would give it a shot. I gave it about five months and I told my manager that I need to get into one of the empty offices that has a door but no ceiling. The move is scheduled for next Friday, July 8th.

Also scheduled for next Friday, July 8th is the start of the lease for my new apartment. And I'm extremely unorganized for this move. There's ~~an excuse~~ a reason for that - I'm not sure where half my stuff is. Some things are still in the condo in Saint Paul. There's lots of stuff in storage in Albert Lea. And finally, there's a boatload of stuff crammed into my bedroom in the basement of my sister's house (with a small amount of overflow into the garage).

There's also the issue of I'm not sure what I can get into the new place. It's a bit smaller than the Saint Paul condo and I'm sure that my sectional will not fit.

Unless I break it up into three pieces.

It's a nice sectional and it's paid for. It's neutral in color and it's paid for. I would also have to find a way to get it from Saint Paul to Rochester - requiring both a vehicle large enough to carry it and strong persons to carry it down one flight of stairs (There's a sleeper in one part), put it in the truck and then carry it up the steps to the new place. I may have to pay out some $$ and get my friends at College Muscle Movers (LOVE THESE GUYS) to help out.

And then there's the need to call 1-800-GOT-JUNK to take care of the various items I have been trying to pretend didn't exist by storing them in the garage in Saint Paul.

I thought I would be able to get rid of my storage unit in Albert Lea when I found a new place, but there are several pieces of furniture that are either going to have to stay in storage or get put into storage (the dining room table & chairs, Mom's old buffet, the cedar chest).

I'm going to have to spend my 4th of July weekend thinking about this and that is just going to hurt my head. Maybe margaritas will help.

(my apologies to my skating friends who thought the title of his post meant that I was going to talk about skating. Really just wanted to get you to read my blog - I'm evil and manipulative that way)

Volunteering for fun work stuff

2011-06-30T10:21:00.001-05:00

One of my co-workers was going off on vacation for a week or so and needed help covering a couple of her projects, so I volunteered. Now, don't go thinking I'm noble and nice or anything (because we know better than that!), but the assignment screamed fun to me, so I raised my hand so quickly I think I created a sonic boom.

The project was a video production that had a couple of shoots happening during her time off, but the shoot scheduled for a Sunday afternoon was my motivating factor. The producer and videographer wanted to get up to the top of the Plummer Building to shoot b-roll of the Mayo Clinic campus and the surrounding area. Besides being an amazingly beautiful 1928 wonder, the top of the Plummer Building also houses the Mayo Clinic carillon. And there was a carillon concert that day!

One of the 56 bells

If you look closely at the picture of the upper part of the Plummer Building (top right photo), the carillon is housed in the top part with the long "windows" (that aren't really windows as much as they are openings for the sound to go out).

We didn't stay up on the deck for the concert as we didn't bring our earplugs. Jeff, the carillon player, is actually right next to the bells, but in a glass-enclosed booth. (Check out the YouTube video all about the carillon)

Nice photo of Old Glory without a telephoto lens

Besides having the opportunity to see the bells and the carillon up close, I was able to go out on the walkway that surrounds the tower. By sheer chance, I had my camera with me and captured some fun shots.

This used to be the Rochester Library, now it's the Mayo Medical School

The walkway around the building


You don't really have a view of NW Rochester since the beautiful Gonda building blocks your sight line

Looking directly down to the Children's Fountain below

Minnesota doesn't have scary gargoyles; we're too nice for that

If you're ever in Rochester, be sure to visit the Plummer Building. You might not be able to visit the top of the building, but the architecture is splendiferous. (used the thesaurus)

Technically, the doors are always open, although you can't always get in. The picture to the right is one of the massive doors to the Plummer Building that have only been closed a few times in the building's history. The last time was September 11, 2001.

The building also has a couple of historical suites you can visit that tell not only the story of the Mayo Clinic, but of the amazing doctor who helped to design the building. (Yes, Dr. Henry Plummer - one of the founding doctors - helped to design the building that bears his name.)

The Doggie Dilemma

2011-06-13T23:17:00.068-05:00

When I move into my new apartment next month, I'll be leaving behind a couple of my newest buddies - Tuts and Bea. These last nine months living in a home with dogs has been so great and it reminded me what loving and affectionate animals they are.

The apartment that I'll be renting allows dogs with a $300 non-refundable deposit. I am seriously toying with the idea of becoming a dog-owner. I've been spending too much time on the Small Dog Rescue (SDR)of Minnesota website, looking at the available dogs and trying to picture how they would fit into my life.

And that might be the problem. My life. I travel for skating, so I'll need to figure out doggie babysitters. I'm not always home right after work.

Charlie

Then I see Charlie. He's a mix of a Jack Russell Terrier and a Korgi. The people who run the small dog rescue write a description/bio for each dog and tell you important things that you need to know, such as Charlie needs to go to a home with no other pets.

I don't have any other pets...

Heidi

Living at Knutson's, I've also grown to love miniature dachshunds. There are three available from the SDR. I spotted Heidi on their list and would take her home right away except for the fact that Heidi really needs to stay with her buddy Dixie, another doxi. They were rescued from a puppy mill and SDR recommends a home with just adults. I wouldn't mind two dogs, but the apartment is small and I would have to pay two adoption fees.

Milo

SDR has mature dogs and puppies. They have beagles and rat terriers and chihuahuas (like Milo)and those fluffy dogs - shih zhus and pekingeses.

You can start betting now on how long it takes before I give in and fill out the adoption form.

My ADD Brain

2011-06-13T11:31:00.062-05:00

The more I've learned about having ADD, the more I've learned about myself.

I have personality traits that some might call behavioral traits (okay, they call them problems, but I'm working on being positive here.)

One of those "traits" (personality or behavioral, you choose) was a point of discussion last week. I was told that I'm too aggressive in conversations and that I cut people off. I thought about that comment a lot this weekend and tried to remember instances.

I've learned (by reading too many books on the topic) that a person with ADD may be considered abrupt or short because our brains have already finished your sentence for you. We don't think that we cut you off, because in our brains, you were already done. We may even think that we paused for a moment before we spoke.

One of our other "brain traits" is the ability to lose track of what we were saying in the middle of sentence. But we ADD people are tricky because we won't let on that we've lost our train of thought, we'll just keep talking until we re-link with the thought and get back on track. We are the kings & queens of the run-on sentence.

Unless, of course, in the middle of that run-on sentence, you distract us with a shiny object or small, furry rodents.

So, I apologize to those whose sentences I cut-off or interrupt. You may take it as being rude. I like to think of it as being simpatico with my co-workers.

Saying goodbye to someone I never met

2011-06-10T09:01:00.000-05:00

For the last twelve or so years, my phone number was 612-730-XXXX.

And for the last twelve or so years, someone named Megan had the 651 version of my number (she was Saint Paul to my Minneapolis). When I got a phone call from one of Megan's friends, I would simply tell them that Megan's number started with 651, not 612.

www.nataliedee.com

Even when they didn't say anything, I knew when it was one of her friends. I'd answer my phone, "This is Elizabeth" and instead of having someone on the other end start the conversation, I would hear an "um" or "ah" and that would be my clue. I would ask, "are you calling for Megan?" and they would pipe up and say "yes, is she there?" They would always sounded a bit surprised when I explained the phone number issue. I think when I asked if they were calling for Megan, they jumped to the conclusion that since I knew Megan, I must just be someone at her house who picked up the phone. Those were the ones who would sound confused as I explained the mix-up.

Megan got some of my calls, too. Once, I had set up my work phone to forward to my cell phone, only I didn't use the area code, just the 7 numbers. Poor Megan ended up getting lots of my calls for a couple of days. And these were people who thought they were calling my office, nothing close to the 730 number.

My favorite time was when I answered my phone and after I said hello, the voice on the other end got quiet, so I assumed it was someone calling for Megan, so I asked, "Are you trying to reach Megan?" The voice on the phone slowly replied, "No, I am Megan..." She was in Minneapolis and was calling home to check her voice mail. She forgot to dial the area code. We had a good laugh and a short chat.

So I'd like to take a moment and say goodbye to Megan. May my 612 number be re-assigned to someone just as nice as me.

Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Can You Hear Me Now?

2011-06-08T20:55:00.037-05:00

I really, REALLY had to have an iPhone. All the other kids had 'em and they were, I was sure, all the really cool kids or the smartest kids or in someway superior to me.

Once I had an iPhone, it would be the great equalizer and I would be just as cool, smart and maybe even, equal to their superiority.

So, in November of 2009, when my Sprint never-ending two year contract was done, I marched right into the AT&T store to purchase my iPhone 3GS. Only they didn't have in stock. And each time I checked back, they still didn't have any in stock.

www.nataliedee.com

Two weeks into this exercise in futility, they came clean; said they rarely get any in and told me if I went to an Apple store, I would most likely be able to buy a phone that day. My quest for the iconic iPhone was complete and there was peace and joy in the kingdom.

So why did I deactivate my iPhone yesterday and cancel my AT&T contract? Mostly because I was spending far too much money a month for the bells and whistles of an iPhone.

I've been thinking about this for awhile. A couple of months ago, a co-worker of mine talked about how little she was using her iPhone for phone calls (me, too) and that she was planning on dumping her iPhone and getting a pay-as-you-go phone and an iTouch.

That conversation really planted the seed.

Two weeks ago I attended a conference at the Sprint World Headquarters. While there, I started hearing about what I could save with a much simpler phone. And since I've been looking at ways to save money, I just decided it was time to do it.

Oh, there's one more thing I should admit. I was actually paying for two phones on my AT&T plan. I was a single woman on a family plan.

The iPhone was my Twin Cities 612 number while the second phone was my Southern Minnesota 507 number. I've had the 612 number for over 12 years, so most people would think that I would keep that number.

They would be wrong.

Monday, I marched into the Sprint Store and got a new Android phone for my 507 number. Yesterday, I stopped by the AT&T store and cancelled my contract. I'll give credit to Kyle at the AT&T store, he was very accommodating to someone who walks in and announces she's there to cancel her contract. He didn't try to talk me out of it or offer me some deal. He respected my decision and in less that 5 minutes my iPhone 3GS was magically transformed into my iTouch 3GS. (an iPhone in a permanent state of airplane mode)

I'm slowly getting my new phone figured out, but if you call me in the next couple of days and I don't answer quickly, it's because I'm trying to figure out how to answer the darn thing.

Stars on my ceiling

2011-06-07T09:30:00.000-05:00

I am thrilled to say that I have an offer on my condo! It sucks that it is going to be a short sale, but at least it will be one less thing hanging over my head. If you're not familiar with a short sale, it's when what you owe is higher than what the property is valued at. Think of my mortgage as Shaquille O'Neal and the selling price as Kristin Chenoweth.

www.nataliedee.com

I had a training conference this past weekend in Bloomington, so I stayed at the condo. It hasn't felt like my place since I moved most of my stuff out last fall. However, I realized that there are going to be some parts of living at that place that I will miss.

The kitchen is huge and not galley-like. There is even space for my solid oak dining room table. I'll miss the character of my kitchen with its wine theme. I love the walls in the kitchen because I "mudded" them and they look very old world Italian-villa-like. I also have great memories of mudding the walls with two of my dear choir friends, Terri and Lisa.

I will not miss the pink counter tops in the kitchen or the 1980s mauve carpet that covers the majority of the floors.

I will not miss the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the living room. Yes, the mirrors made the room appear bigger but I really didn't enjoy when I was appearing bigger. The truth is over-rated.

I think the one thing I will miss the most are the stars that I painted on my bedroom ceiling with glow-in-the-dark paint. It was supposed to duplicate the stars in the sky during the Winter. I painted them on the ceiling in about 1998 and they still shine as brightly as the day I painted them. I won't be able to duplicate this in my new place since I'll be renting. It was always kind of comforting to feel like you're sleeping under the stars without that pesky nature ruining it.

I may not be able to paint stars on my ceiling, but I can see the real stars outside of the cities. There's just no duplicating that. Even with glow-in-the-dark paint.

The Golden Squirrel Award Rides Again

2011-05-31T14:26:00.000-05:00

Distracted doesn't even begin to cover my life in the past six weeks. There's been plenty of travel for work and skating along with some rather challenging life decisions that have kept me away from the blog.

There is one thing that I know about myself; when my life is feeling out of control, I don't write or journal anything and that creates this vortex of not writing and not feeling in control that goes on incessantly. I need to have the Moonstruck Cher slap me and tell me to "snap out of it!"

So I'm back to start writing again. I have to - this is like therapy for me.

My diet is totally off track and I haven't been working out. I'm running out of clothing that fits and I don't want to buy larger sizes (because I'll only be wearing them a short time because my diet starts tomorrow! - Ha!).

The biggest distraction has been my search for housing. I made the decision a couple of months ago that I had to move out of my sister's basement before I was a size 20. I blame her great cooking and the endless supply of Little Debbie Nutty Bars.

I haven't had to do an apartment search for many years and I had never done one outside of the metro area. I was spoiled by the abundance of apartments in the Twin Cities area and the guidebooks that help you find them. The Rochester area lacks both.

I started with an Internet search and found out that "luxury" means expensive and small, but with underground, heated parking. I already knew from my years on St. Paul's Grand Avenue that "classic" means it's an old apartment with several coats of paint covering all light switches and outlets.

I toured three beautiful luxury townhome rentals, all out of my price range, but so convenient to work that I was trying to rationalize signing a lease. One of the three advertised "resort-style living" with lots and lot amenities at top dollar.

I started contacting realtors to see if they had properties that had been on the market and not moving that they might want to rent out. My brother-in-law has connections in the construction industry because of his plumbing business. He checked with a couple of his buddies and found me a two bedroom townhouse for $725 a month! Wow! It was a 55+ community, but they had some flexibility. Unfortunately, when I drove past the place, there was a LARGE banner on the side of the garage that read "Elderly Rental Townhomes." Elderly??!! Who is doing their marketing? I know 90-year-olds who don't want to be called "elderly." Crossed that one off my list.

Then a co-worker suggested searching for property management companies. I did and I found all new places not on any other lists. I found a house three block from the office that was a bit higher in price, but what I would save on parking and gas easily made up the difference. There was also a beautiful classic apartment five blocks away from the office that had hardwood floors and parking included, but neither the house or the classic apartment had a washer/dryer in the unit. Deal breaker!

And none of the place I had looked at allowed dogs. Cats were fine, but dogs weren't allowed. I don't have a dog, but I want to get one. I don't understand why cats are allowed when they stink up the inside of a place and dogs generally don't. (news alert: I'm not a cat person)

Finally, I found a two-bedroom condo for rent that is on the bus line, has a washer/dryer in the unit, attached heated garage and allows dogs. I found out today that they accepted my application and starting July 8th, I will have a new home! Yeah!!!

So now this distraction is done and the new "getting ready to move" distraction will start.

And oh, yes, that little detail of selling my St. Paul condo...

Kansas

2011-05-25T12:10:00.001-05:00

I'm in Kansas City for a Ragan Conference on mobile communications and it just happens to be Tornado week in this area of the country. Last day of conference at the Sprint World HQ and the second to the last session before heading to the airport, when a buzzing over the PA was followed by warning sound and a voice telling us that a tornado warning has even issued for this area. The same announcement kept repeating every 20 seconds and was starting to get on everyone's nerves. Luckily we all had mobile devices to monitor the outside activities. BUT if you had AT&T, you were out of luck as I'm sure Sprint had AT&T signal blocking technology around the campus. It seems that a storm touched down about 12 blocks away from here and We spent about 40 minutes in the bunker. It turned out to be an interesting way to network. Did I mention I'm looking forward to going home? - Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Basement of Sprint World HQ

My First Mayo Video Project

2011-04-25T09:18:00.000-05:00

I just finished a very fun, yet exhausting, project for work. I wrote and helped to produce a video about one of our patients. Spending time with patients and learning about their experiences is the best part of my job.

I've spent the last three and half months working on the 2010 Mayo Clinic Annual Report - both the print and an interactive website. It typically features five patient stories; We had four that had been told in 2010, but we needed a fifth story that would be compelling enough to match the other four.

At a brain storming meeting, I said that I had a possible story. It was a story of gentleman (Ron) who lived through a horrific tornado. The more I shared, the more the group thought it might have potential. (I knew of the story because it happened to a high school classmate's dad.)

There's a sad part to the story. His wife died as a result of her injuries from the storm. That news made a couple of people push back; that we shouldn't include the story because of that fact. But death is a part of life and we shouldn't exclude the story for that reason alone. I got buy-in and they gave me the thumbs up to move forward.

I contacted his son Tom, who I went to school with, via Facebook, to see if his dad would be willing to share his story. Tom sent me a message back that "Yes. Dad would be willing..." He also said that they were very grateful to have a place like St Marys Hospital/Mayo Clinic so close to Albert Lea.

As I thought about that comment, I realized the irony in it. Ron had been treated at St. Marys and Mayo Clinic because he was injured by a tornado, yet it's possible that neither St. Marys nor Mayo Clinic would be here if it weren't for a tornado that nearly destroyed Rochester in 1883.

I planned to meet Ron and set up a photo session with him when he was visiting Mayo Clinic the following week. I made the assumption that Tom would be accompanying his dad for this appointment (I have no idea why I assumed that). Ron was only told that I would meet him during his visit. We had never met, so without Tom there, I wasn't sure if I would find him.

I caught up with Ron and his brother Jack after his first appointment. Both were surprised that I could pick them out of the crowd, but since I know their sons, I just looked for family resemblance. And it didn't hurt that Ron's picture was on his CaringBridge site.

I spend most of the day with these two brothers and it was like spending the day with my dad. What a gift!

I hired a freelance writer to tell Ron's story and everything was chugging along smoothly. About 6 weeks into the project, we realized that his was the only story that didn't have a video for the website. While I love video production, this would be my first one for Mayo.

We scheduled video shoots with Ron's doctor and with Ron, but we lacked b-roll for the video (b-roll is that filler stuff that makes a video interesting and not just a talking head). I found out that Ron was also being featured in an annual report video for the rehabilitation center that he stayed at after his discharge from St. Marys. Aha! B-roll. So I contacted them and one week later I had the footage.

I wanted news footage and since there is a TV station here in Rochester, we contacted them, but they were not interested in sharing. We contacted KAAL-TV in Austin and they were willing to give us some footage from the night of the storm. After going through the legal rigmarole, we got the footage at the last minute.

I got permission to use a photo of the storm taken by Arian Schuessler of the Globe Gazette that sends chills down your spine. The Albert Lea Tribune sent photos of the damage after the storm as well as photos of Ron when he was at the rehabilitation center. Score!

I started working on the script, but with so many video clips and other media, I was having a difficult time visualizing what I wanted. To get me through this blockage, I used a very large white board with large and colorful post-it notes to pull the script together.

I used a different color post-it note for each of the video reel and for the still photography. The text for the graphics were written on a different type of post-it note. I had each segment (with time-code) written on the post-its and then I simply moved them around until the story flowed. I've learned that thinking with tactile objects helps me understand things better.

But there was still something missing. I wanted people to understand what a monster this storm was, so they would understand what a miracle it is that Ron survived it.

Then I saw some amazing YouTube footage of the storm and I had to have it. It happened to be footage of the funnel that hit the area of Ron's house. It was quality video, so I paid the stormchaser and added it to the Mayo video.

The media support services staff at Mayo are outstanding and they took my script (I had written it out after the post-it note exercise) and they added the perfect music and pulled everything together.

I hope I did the story justice. Check it out below.

Here's the video

A Voice

2011-04-20T21:43:00.000-05:00

Last week, I watched a TED video that featured Roger Ebert, the legendary Chicago movie critic, with the title, "Remaking My Voice." Ebert lost his ability to talk when cancer (and the surgeries for cancer) destroyed his jaw. Ebert talks on the video through a Mac PowerBook that simulates a human voice. He also had his wife and two friends read his story because he finds the artificial voice annoying and figured we would, too.

The beauty of TED talks is that they are never longer than 20 minutes. I'll give you warning here, you will get choked up toward the end.

His story made me wonder if I could deal with not being able to talk. I think most people, at one point or another in their lives, wonder how they would deal with being deaf or blind. I don't think most of us have ever thought about what it would be like to lose your voice.

Because I've always been comfortable with the written word than the spoken word, I think I would find a way to deal. I would have to depend on other people more than I do now - I wouldn't be able go through the drive-through by myself or answer a phone call. I'm sure I would use social media even more than I do right now.

Then a few days later, I received news that my uncle had cancer and would be losing his voice box. Roger Ebert's story took on a whole different perspective to me. He will be having surgery April 25th at Mayo Clinic and although he barely talk now, he'll be able to say final words to those he loves most. I'm hoping that he can use some of the new technologies to augment his communications, but I'm hoping even more that this surgery will get all the cancer.

Keeping my fingers crossed and saying my prayers.

Testing 1, 2, 3 and a quarter inch

2011-04-19T22:15:00.000-05:00

As I described in my last post, I've admitted my addiction to quilting and how a fabric store is a very dangerous place for me. I may have admitted it, but I'm not going to treatment.


The Fire Escape quilt that got me the	purple ribbon.

Monday night, I had an opportunity to be a part of a quilt pattern testing at the Calico Hutch Quilt Shop in Hayward, Minnesota. Even cooler for me was the opportunity to meet one of my favorite quilt designers, Terry Atkinson. Terry designed the quilt that I entered last August to the Freeborn County Fair and for which I got the Championship ribbon. Her pattern directions are so well written, may be in part because she uses test groups before sending the pattern to the printer.


Terry's Shadow Song pattern

Every six months, there is a "Quilt Market" where retailers go and see the new fabrics and patterns. The spring market is next month in Salt Lake City and Terry is introducing quite a few new patterns. Including the one we tested last night.

The pattern is called Shadow Song and our job was to follow the directions and make at least one of each of the blocks. I'm not great with keeping everything perfectly square, so I sometimes end up with misshaped squares. I got thru the first block and wanted to sort of hide it because it looked so strange and I was sure I had done it wrong. Then another woman talked about not getting everything to line up. and then another. While I was concerned with understanding the pattern, someone else figured out that Terry had one cutting error at the very beginning that was causing the problem. The direction said to cut the square to 3-1/4 inch, but the correct cut was 3-1/2 inches. Just a 1/4" makes a big difference.

So Terry got her pattern tested and a crucial error was caught before it was sent to the printer the next morning. And I got to meet a quilting rock start. At least in my book.

I love the Calico Hutch's back room with super high ceiling & amazing quilts covering all the walls

Talk about a place that distracts me!

A new design from Terry - A cute pillow with zippers for the design

Everyone is into making bags now. This is called "Stack & Stow"

Here's another newbie from Terry - Texas Two Step.

Carolyn & her staff made us hot fudge sundaes!

This is one of the blocks and the one with the cutting issue.

She almost got one whole row done.

Quilting Addiction

2011-04-13T20:04:00.000-05:00

In February 1987, the Albert Lea Community Theater (also known as "ACT" cuz I guess AlbertLea is one word?) presented a musical called Quilters and I was the youngest member of the cast.

It is a story of a pioneer woman and her six daughter which blends a series of interrelated scenes into a mosaic that demonstrates the challenges and rewards of frontier life. Each story centered on a various quilt block and depicted the life of a frontier woman: childhood, marriage, childbirth, spinsterhood, twisters, fire, illness and death (I had to die in one scene), but also the inspirational vision of simple human dignity and a woman's resolve in the face of adversity. The play ends with the various patches assembled into one glorious, brilliantly colorful quilt that qualified as the largest quilt I ever saw. (The quilt was made by the Minnesota Quilters Guild for the Chanhassen Dinner Theater's production of Quilters.)

I fell in love with quilting during that play. I was unemployed at the time, so I spent hours at my sewing machine teaching myself how to do it. I will admit - I was horrible at it. I made my first real quilt (Log Cabin pattern) as a gift for a friend's wedding. I went a bit overboard and made it far too big. I pieced it and then tied it because I had no clue how to do actual quilting.

Eventually, I got better and started making quilts for my nieces and nephews. That continued until about 1996 when I got involved with skating and focused all my energy and free time on that. Unfortunately, only five of the nine got quilts, so there are four nieces and nephews still waiting.

Then about three years ago, I started quilting again and my passion for this hobby has consumed me (along with much of my budget).

When the owners of the quilt shops know you by name, that might mean you're a "good customer."
I always have several projects going at one time because I'm powerless over the allure of quality fabric and cool looking patterns.
When I started packing my condo for moving last fall, I think I had more tubs of fabric than I did of my clothing.
I can recognize a quilt pattern, tell you the name of the pattern and if I have one in process.

Last weekend, I went on my first quilters' retreat sponsored by the Calico Hutch (Hayward, MN) Just me and about 95 other addicts at the Austin (MN) Conference Center. Everyone had their own table to lay out their paraphernalia like rotary cutters, templates and high-tech sewing machines.There was also one group who had their laptops set up with the Decorah Eagles on 24/7.

The staff of the Calico Hutch was wonderful to everyone and I'm already signed up for retreats in February and April of 2012.

This Carolyn Matson, owner of Calico Hutch, demonstrating how you can confuse a ruler with a handle with your phone.

Here's Katie Zenk, the blog master of Calico Hutch's blog and a wildly creative young woman. Plus she's a financial whiz.

And the photo above? That's the quilt I want to make next. It contains thousands of pieces. Thousands and thousands pieces. Doesn't that sound like fun??

Getting A New Driver's License Can Be Traumatic

2011-04-12T14:49:00.000-05:00

I'm alive and I'm back to blogging. I haven't been sick, just crazy-busy. And frustrated with a computer not working right. It took the highly technical knowledge of the Geek Squad to get my home desktop fixed. The inside of the CPU was so dusty, that the system was over-heating and shutting down to protect itself.

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The State of Minnesota sent me an early birthday card two months ago, informing me that my driver's license would be expiring on my birthday. Normally, that wouldn't be a big deal. Normally is not a word that I would use to describe anything in my life these days.

When you go in to renew your driver's license, you have to provide them with your current address. Since I'm not actively residing in my St. Paul condo and having all my mail forwarded, I couldn't use the St. Paul address. But I really didn't want to use my sister's address since this is a temporary situation. So I kept putting it off. Not that I had any expectation that within a month I would be living somewhere else, but it was the "I-don't-want-to-think-about-it" way of dealing with decision making.

I had a short "Harry Potter" moment when I thought about listing my address as "bedroom in the basement, 16 Privet Lane, Mantorville."

Finally my birthday arrived and my license would be expired the next day. My niece, Casey, had told me how to find the license place in historical downtown Mantorville. So did I go and do it that day? Nope. I blew it off.

I figured I would do it later that week over lunch; since I work downtown Rochester, I could just walk over to the Government Center. So did I do that? Nope. Too busy and/or too lazy.

It was going on a week overdue and I was feeling the additional pressure that my license tags would also be expiring at the end of March.

I was saved by serendipity (not to be confused with dippity-do). As it happened, I had to go to Albert Lea (my hometown) to do videotape an interview for work. Since I had free time prior to the interview and I knew WHERE to go in Albert Lea (having renewed my license there many times), I would do during that trip.

Only they tore down the newer part of the old courthouse and built a newer newer section. So I had to wander around the building to find the license renewal division. Luckily, the county register is the same person as when I got my original driver's license, so I knew who to write the check out to. Yee Haw.

So now I have my new drivers license with the appropriate lie about my weight and my Mantorville address. I'll get a new one as soon as I land in a more permanent place. I'm sure I won't be living in the bedroom in the basement forever. Although I might stick around for part of the summer to enjoy the pool in the back yard...It's a dip I will do. :)

My medications and the legal system

2011-03-17T15:48:00.000-05:00

When you hear about the safeguards that are in place to reduce the number of meth labs in the state or to prevent abuse of controlled substances, they make sense.

They make sense until they become the brick wall preventing you from carrying on with your day-to-day life. And when you hit two walls in one day, you're going to walk away with a headache.

As I mentioned in my last post, I have a cold. Yesterday, I visited my friendly Target store and purchased cold medicine. As my purchases were being rung up, I was asked for my ID. The clerk scans my ID, which I'm told goes into a state database to track purchases of medicines with pseudoephedrine. Since pseudoephedrine is used to make meth, it's been regulated since about 2005. And the law has had an impact.

Today it had an impact on me. I forgot to bring my medication with me to work and if I tried to purchase more today, a red flag would have been waved or something and a black mark would have been put on a permanent record as a possible drug lord. I thought maybe I could just go over and sneeze or cough on them in order to convince them I have a legit reason to purchase said medication.

I had two options. I could ask a friend to go and buy the medication for me or I could ask around to see if anyone had any spare Sudafed. I felt like a high school student looking for someone to buy me some Boone's Farms Easy Nights. Luckily, a co-worker had a spare dosage that he shared with me and I made it through the day.

I ran into a second brick wall today when I was calling in to get my Concerta prescription refilled. Concerta is a controlled substance, so they make you jump through hoops to get it, never mind the price of about $2.00 a pill (that's with the discount). One of the nurses called me back to verify some details.

Nurse: "I have the last prescription filled in January. Is that correct?"

Me: "Yes."

Nurse: "That was a thirty-day refill?"

Me: "Yes."

Nurse: "Back in January?"

Me: "Yes, I'm not very good about always taking my ADD medicine. I get easily distracted."

Nurse: "Okay."

Me: "Plus I have ADD, so I'm really bad about calling in to order a refill."

Nurse: "Okay. Well, if everything is in order, I'll have the doctor sign the script and you can pick it up tomorrow."

If everything is in order? I've been taking the darn medication for years and the one thing that I find absolutely ironic is a medication for people with ADD requires them to remember to call in for refills. Seriously.

I Have A Cold

2011-03-16T13:43:00.000-05:00

Ever notice when you have a cold, there are two options for how your brain and reality work. Option one is the "out-of-body experience" where you feel like you're observing everything you do as a third person. Option two is where everything slows down. Particularly your brain function. When I have a cold, it's like I'm the last one to get a joke because it takes longer for my responses to kick in.

I have a cold right now and I'm in the slowed down phase where everything around me is moving far too fast and anyone who talks to me must have had too much caffeine. I know it is the medication, but if I didn't take the medication, I would be spending all my time coughing, hacking and blowing my nose. It's a trade-off.

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I started taking Zicam, but I didn't like the after-taste and the directions say you have to continue taking it for 48 hours AFTER your symptoms subside. So, I'm taking this homeopathic stuff for a couple of weeks? I'm sure my body would contain so much zinc, I could be mined. I quit the Zicam after 24 hours.

I hate the way I feel about myself when I have cold. A cold always seems to hit me when I'm supposed to present something to a group. No matter how prepared I am or how fancy the presentation, the moment I stand up to talk, with my kleenex-worn red nose and my raspy voice, I sense all the audience members are either wondering if they have touched anything I've touched or "what a loser." I'm sure my message gets lost because my audience is distracted by my bulbous red nose.

I don't know how long this cold will last, but everyone is willing to tell me how they have had their cold for two weeks or three weeks or that I'll start to feel better in May. Plus someone told me today that "what's going around" has been morphing into pneumonia, so I should take care. I love being surrounded by optimists.

Pretty, Shiny, Expensive Objects

2011-03-08T13:37:00.000-06:00

The iPad 2 goes on sale this Friday and I'm vacillating between "of course, I have to get one" and "it's just peer pressure." When the iPad originally came out I knew right away that I didn't want one. And then, about twenty minutes passed, and everyone I knew was buying one.

About six months into it, I figured that I might as well wait for the second version since everyone says you should never buy the first version of anything. (Those are usually the people who buy the first version, gloat about having the "it" toy, but secretly regret buying it.)

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Let's face it, the iPad is the hippest, most coolest thing around these days. I've heard the talk about looking at the Motorola Xoom instead, but why should I? I go along with the trends instead of bucking them. (unless it is cool to buck the trends)

I think I go along with the trends because my Zodiac sign is Aries - the ram - which is a sheep and that's what I am. I'm a sheep going to the Apple slaughterhouse where they will take a big chunk of my money. But then I'll be cool and I'll have the newest iPad and an empty savings account.

The reality of the money brings me back to my vacillating problem. But now it is between "I just want to have the cool new toy" and "so that's what it's like to have a savings account."

Great! Now My Computer has ADD!

2011-02-26T21:04:00.000-06:00

My home desktop computer is a two-year old Gateway that has been a great computer without any issues.

Until recently.

In the last two weeks, my computer, for lack of a better explanation, just wasn't interested in keeping the power on. For no reason at all, it will just turn itself off. Not to sleep, but shuts itself down. If I leave the computer for more than 15 minutes, it will power down.

I checked all the system stuff and I have my power settings at "Never" power off (obviously ignoring that direction). I've checked the error logs and those make little sense except I see a kernel error message. That wouldn't have caught my eye last month, except that I was getting a kernel error message on my work Mac last week - and that computer has been officially sent to the computer cemetery.

I thought about taking the computer into Best Buy and having the Geek Squad take a look at it, but I had to try one last thing.

If the computer was really having ADD issues, I'll do what worked for me as a kid - I'll turn on the television. (My computer is connected to the antenna and I use it to record TV shows- a very cheap TiVo.)

And wouldn't you know, it's working. Since I've left the Windows Media Center playing in the background, the computer has stayed powered on all day. It just needed a little stimulation.

I wonder if its Motherboard will complain about it watching too much television? Or that it knows commercials better than multiplication tables?

Cool Things!

2011-02-25T12:30:00.000-06:00

As I write this post, I'm sitting at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport waiting for my flight to Cleveland that has been delayed for two hours. The good news is that the plane is here, so we just have to wait for the weekly blizzard to clear out of Cleveland.

The beauty of the MSP airport is that there is plenty to do (like shopping) and some great restaurants. I was thrilled to notice one of their newest additions - Surdyk's Flights. What a great name for a wine bar at an airport. And they really do have wine flights that range from $10 to $24. I'm about to enjoy lunch here - having the Minneapple Panini - roast turkey, brie, apples and lingonberry sauce - with a glass of Dutour "Le Roche" Pouilly Fuisse. All I can tell you is that it is a white wine and I like the flavor. Oh, my sandwich is here...be right back.

Surdyk's has deli sandwiches to go when you don't have time - made with quality meats and top notch cheese. Yum! My sandwich was delish! Oh! Oh! Surdyk's also has electrical outlets at their tables!

I didn't need the outlets because I had charged my computer and broadband card on the drive up from Rochester. I was able to do that courtesy of a great gift my sister gave me this past Christmas. It's called the Coffee Cup Power Inverter. I just plugged it in to the car's DC outlet and the coffee cup changes the power to AC and you just plug in your devices. It has two outlets and a USB port. The ad says you can power three devices at one time, but only if none of the plugs are those monster plugs because they block the other plug-in.
You can get it at ThinkGeek.

My other life saver this week is a little website called Dropbox.com. It's been a godsend for me because of all the different electronic devices I use. It's cloud computing and it rocks!

I have Dropbox on my iPhone and when I take a picture, I can drop it in to the Dropbox and voila! it's now accessible to me on my laptop or my work computer or home computer. Actually, anywhere I have an internet connection, you can access your files. AND IT'S FREE! Up to a point....If you want more you can purchase it or recommend other people and you both get more space up to 8 gigabytes (so if you want to join dropbox.com email me at meharty at usfamily dot net.

You get two gigabytes of memory which is plenty for most of us. If you need more than that, I have about 30 documents (including large spreadsheets) and maybe 20 photos and I've only used 3.8% of my two gigabytes. AND you can share stuff! I had photos to send a friend and since most email accounts HATE large files, I gave him links to my public photos and he just downloaded them from there!

Two final items - if you go to Surdyk's, ask for Katie - she was a great waitress. And if you are delayed, spend time in the main concourse. They have much more comfortable chairs than at the gate.

So there is all my cool stuff for you.

I need a weekend

2011-02-23T18:22:00.000-06:00

I need a weekend with nothing planned.

A weekend without travel or skating or phone calls or work assignments or any other activity.

It's not going to happen this weekend and none of my last three weekends have been quiet. I have had a February to die from. I've had skating related activities every weekend in February including two trips to exotic locations such as Albany and Cleveland. While most people think south at this time of year, my schedule has kept me firmly ensconced in the snowy and cold north.

Granted, I do these activities by choice. I'll be invited to a competition and when I review my calendar, I'm generally only looking at that weekend - not the weekend before or the weekend after. It was December when I realized that I had managed to erase all my weekend from the month of February.

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I am so excited that I have ABSOLUTELY nothing planned for my March weekends, I can hardly stand it. I want to sleep in on Saturday, maybe go shopping or have a massage. I want to work on the bazillion quilt projects for which I have bought the pattern and fabric, but haven't found the time to do. I want to go to the Dan Abraham Health Living Center and try to remember what it was like to be healthy and fit. What it was like to fit into my jeans...and my skirts...and my suits.

Wait a second...for wanting weekends where I have nothing to do, I sure am planning on doing alot.

Dang! Foiled again!

Morning Meetings

2011-02-16T14:04:00.000-06:00

I had my first 7 am meeting today. Not the first one in my life, but my first one here at Mayo Clinic.

I'm not a morning person - not because I don't like getting up early (cuz I'm up everyday at 5 am), but because my brain is not fully functional until 9ish. I discourage people from 8 am meetings with me.

And it wasn't just the time, it was the type of meeting that made it even more challenging. It was a project launch meeting for a tech initiative. There were at least 30 people in the room and I recognized no one. I sat in the chair closest to the exit just from fear of being noticed or asked questions.

I like technology but this is one of those projects that is so immense, it might take me awhile to fully grasp it. Everyone introduced themselves during the meeting and told what area they worked in. There were moments when I thought I was listening to Charlie Brown's teacher.

When a slide of the reporting and team structure showed up on the PowerPoint, it was alphabet soup. Of the ten or so acronyms on the slide, I knew one. ONE! One of the acronyms was MUPITS. I can't remember what it all stands for, but learning it was a Mayo acronym made me glad I didn't laugh during the introductions when one of the guys said he works in IT and with Muppets.

One moment of being uncomfortable courtesy of Target: Today, I decided to wear my black & gray argyle sweater with a pink shell. As did one of the other ladies in the meeting (including the pink shell) We avoided eye contact for the majority of the meeting. I made sure I didn't ride in the same elevator with her after the meeting. So imagine my surprise, five minutes after the meeting, seeing ANOTHER woman wearing the same sweater with a pink shell. I started having Catholic grade school flashbacks.

My love/hate relationship with flying

2011-02-14T15:43:00.000-06:00

I've been a bad blogger...

Can't believe I haven't posted in almost a month. I won't use the lame excuse that I've been so busy because the truth is, I just haven't had the inspiration to write. Happens to everyone. Might happen again.

But a blogger friend of mine recently said on her blog that she needs to get away from the "I must post something" attitude and realized that she only has to post when she has something to say. Honestly, why should I waste people's time just because I think that I'm witty and amusing?

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Well, I'm back in the saddle and I've been flying more lately. I'm always excited to fly somewhere since I get to see friends or attend an event, but the reality is that flying can be exhausting when you have to worry about catching flights (not to mention catching germs) and getting up really, really early to catch morning flights.By the time I get home from a trip, I look like I was riding on the outside of the plane.

www.nataliedee.com

I had my first trip flying out of the Rochester International Airport and it was SO different from flying out of MSP. Parking at the Rochester airport is $8.00 a day with the maximum of $48 weekly. My parking at MSP was $48 this past weekend. Rochester has four gates and MSP has 117 gates. When I flew out of Rochester, my time from parking my car, walking into the building, checking in and then going through security and walking to my gate was almost ten minutes. It takes me ten minutes to find a place to park at MSP. I'm just sayin'...

On my flight in January, I learned a new term, "Lap Child." I guess Delta is trying to condense what they have to say. So instead of saying "if you are traveling with a child who sits on your lap.." they have taken to referring to a lap child. It just sounded strange.

I also learned that when booking flights, be sure to give yourself enough time between flights if you're making a connection at someplace like, say, O'Hare! My return flight home from Detroit connected in Chicago and I had only 30 minutes between the flights. I got a bit panicked when I realized that there was a good chance that I would not make the connection and it was the last flight out of Chicago to Rochester. For my own mental health, I got an earlier flight.

This weekend on my United flight to Albany, NY via Chicago, I was thrilled to learn that United Airlines serves Coke products. When I asked for ice for my Diet Coke, I was informed, "we won't have any ice until we get to Chicago." Really? We just left Minneapolis with sub-zero temps and you couldn't get any ice there?

I have one more flight this month to Cleveland. Hopefully, I won't have to worry about the lack of ice because I'm pretty sure it will be tough to get the ice through security.

This Day in History (sort of...)

2011-01-20T13:22:00.000-06:00

Have you noticed all the news shows are doing retrospectives of the inaugurations of Kennedy, Reagan and Obama?

Barack Obama was sworn in as President two years ago today. I don't know if there will be a second inaugural address, but his first one was amazing. It was a day filled with hope and great designer clothing.

www.nataliedee.com

Thirty years ago today, Ronald Reagan was sworn into office. The 1980 election was my first Presidential election that I could vote in and although my views tilt toward the left, I will admit that I voted for Reagan. It was really more of a vote against Carter. Since I never cared for any of Reagan's policies, the only benefit I received from his presidency was having something to rage against while in college.

Today is also the 50th anniversary of President Kennedy's inauguration. My memories of that day are limited, but I'm pretty sure I watched it while sitting in the playpen by the picture window. It's possible that I was actually more enchanted by my reflection as I was easily distracted very early on.

This past Monday was a 20th anniversary that stirred more memories for me. January 17, 1991 was the start of Operation Desert Storm. I was unemployed and looking for work in the Twin Cities. Each week I was staying with different friends until I could find a job. That week I was staying with some friends who were draft age and we watched the news reports of the invasion and I couldn't stop thinking what an impact the war might have on them.

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I also remember how I really didn't want to live in the Cities (I had had two prior Cities experiences), but I felt like it was my only option to find a job. I started doing temp work in February and finally got my first job at Fairview Riverside Medical Center in April. It would be another four years before I resigned myself to the obvious, and started having a life (social, community involvement, etc) in the Cities. During the denial years, I spent all my weekends back in Albert Lea.

If someone would have told me on January 20, 2009 that I wouldn't be living in the Cities in 2011, I might have been excited about it, but I doubt I would have believed them.

If someone would have told me on January 17, 1991 that I would spend the next 20 years living in the Twin Cities, I would have thought that they didn't know me very well.

I've always had the philosophy that where ever I am, it is where God wants me to be at that time. I don't know where God will have me in 20 years, but I hope it's warmer in January. (wait, hell would be warmer in January...I may have create a couple of caveats to the above statement...)

Mayo Mammogram Part 2

2011-01-14T16:12:00.000-06:00

Everything is fine, but they sure hang you out there for awhile.

The focus of the entire appointment was my right side. The tech took four additional shots and asked me to wait in the exam room while she went and talked with the radiologist. About five minutes later, she came back and said they needed another couple of images.

She left again and I realized that the room was kinda cold. She returned and said "Sorry, we need a couple more." I guess I move too much while my breast is in a vice grip. She told me that I'm not supposed to move and I'm not supposed to breathe. Sorry.

She left me a third time and I really, really hoped that we were done because I was sore and cold.

When she returned, she informed me that the radiologist would like me to have an ultrasound to get a better view. They would be able to do the ultrasound right away and she took me back to the waiting area. While I was in the waiting area, I was offered a heated blanket. Nice spa-like touch.

My mind was trying to focus on the Today Show, but unsuccessfully. It was one thing that I had to come back for more images. When they only focused on one side that made me suspicious. The questions really started coming when they wanted to do the ultrasound.

Becky, the ultrasound tech came for me a few minutes later and I got to keep the blanket with me. It took maybe 10 minutes to do the ultrasound. Becky told me that she was going to get Dr. Brandt (the radiologist who has been reading my films) and bring her in to the exam room to talk with me and that Dr. Brandt might want to do an ultrasound exam of her own, just to be sure.

As I waited for Becky and Dr. Brandt to arrive, the ideas started to flow again. The doctor wanted to talk to me? That just didn't feel right. I could see an image on one of the screens, but I didn't know if it was mine or not. I studied it closely. Could I see anything wrong? What would wrong look like anyway?

I had positive thoughts and wasn't planning a funeral or anything. I have lots of friends who have taken on breast cancer and beat it. It would just be another adventure in my journey. I laughed a bit when I remembered the photo of a t-shirt that I saw on a friend's facebook page - "Yes, they're fake! The real ones tried to kill me!"

Dr. Brandt arrived and introduced herself to me. She informed me that everything looked okay. They just wanted to make sure they got a clear enough view to be sure. She did an ultrasound for herself and I watched her face looking for that moment of "what's that?", but it didn't come.

So, I've been through my first Mayo mammogram and the ta-ta's are fine. Nothing to worry about except for the numbness in my hand... from typing on my netbook while sitting at the airport. Well, if anything is really wrong with the hand, I know that Mayo Clinic has a new Hand Transplant Center (no kidding).

Happy weekend!

My First Mayo Mammogram - Part 1

2011-01-13T09:28:00.000-06:00

I started Wednesday with an annual January tradition, at least for me, my annual mammogram.

The appointment truly started my Wednesday as the appointment was at 7 a.m. (yawn....) The very friendly women at the appointment check-in desk was both systematic and passionate. Her warm southern-accented voice asked me if I had had previous mammograms at Mayo. "Nope, this was my first."

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My first mammogram? "No, I had previous mammograms."

Did I bring the films? "No, I requested them to be transferred here a couple of months ago."

She quickly looked at the database. HealthPartners hadn't yet sent them, even tho I requested them two times. The appointment lady grabbed a form and started to fill it out as I murmured about being ticked off at HealthPartners. She told me that Mayo would get those films from HealthPartners and judging from her tone, I believe her. Sounded like she had done it before.

I waited less than 5 minutes and was taken back to the changing room. After another five minutes, the tech called my name and took me back for the exam.

Mammograms are an exercise in "acting-casual-while-someone-is-flattening-your-breast-in-a-vice." My tech was great as she made me comfortable by chatting with me. Questions like "where do you work," "what do you do," and "where do you live?" It only took five minutes before we were friends as I learned that her daughter graduated with my niece, both from high school and dental hygienist school. (There are 31,000 people who work at Mayo Clinic in Rochester and I always seem to run into people who are either from my home town, related to someone I know, or know my sister and her family)

Although, I had prepared myself for the exam to take some time (my appointment sheet said to plan 45 to 90 minutes), it turned out that I was on my way to my office by 7:30.

A previous HealthPartners mammogram required a follow-up appointment, but it was almost a week after the appointment when HealthPartners called me to come back in. (Obviously, no rush to read the films and follow-up)

So, I was surprised when the Gonda 2 South appointment desk called to tell me that they wanted me to come back for more films. I started looking at my calendar and asked about scheduling something during the last week of the month. The woman on the phone gently let me know that they would be able to get me in for an appointment much sooner than that.

My follow-up appointment is Friday morning (and they said that it might take up to 90 minutes). I don't know why they are asking me to come back - it could be that they don't have my other films as a reference and want to do more. Maybe they saw something that raised a flag. My goal for the next two days is to stay away from worst case scenarios (although I've been told by my "Debbie Downer" friends that when you expect the worst, everything is good news). There is no history of breast cancer in my family, so that's a positive in my favor.

If they do find something wrong, I'm already at Mayo Clinic. That's a huge comfort for me.

And a Child Shall Lead Them

2011-01-10T12:06:00.000-06:00

Millions of words about the tragedy in Arizona have been written, spoken, tweeted and blogged already. And more will follow. The blame game started immediately.

I'm guilty of thinking the worst of those with whom I disagree. I'm happy I wasn't near a computer or such at the time as I would have added to the noise.

My thoughts are focused on nine-year old Christina-Taylor Green, the youngest victim of this violence. She was at the event because she had just been elected to her school's student council and she wanted to learn more about government and politics.

Everyone is talking about the destructive nature of our political rhetoric and Christina-Taylor's death is, perhaps, the metaphor for what this is rhetoric is doing - it is destroying our future and that of our children. The Pima County Sheriff Clarence Dupnik said it best Saturday night, "Pretty soon, we're not going to be able to find reasonable, decent people who are willing to subject themselves to serve in public office."

It breaks my heart to know that even the deaths of these six people may not stop the rhetoric; I've heard that the Westboro Baptist Church, who have protested at the funerals of our soldiers and at Elizabeth Edward's funeral, plan to show up at Christina-Taylor's funeral. I pray that they don't.

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.

Edmund Burke

It's time to do something and it can start with each of us. Maybe it won't make any difference, but I have to believe that it will. It's the only way I can get through this.

A Look Back at 2010

2011-01-04T11:10:00.000-06:00

Since I seemed to have started the year with a small pity party about how the year ended (yesterday's post), I don't want to negate the fact that 2010 rocked.

If someone would have told me in January 2010 where I would be and what I would be doing in January 2011, I would have been very surprised. Shocked. Disbelieving.

2010 was an awesome year!

I don't ignore the fact that 2010 was the year of my 50th birthday. I didn't just celebrate my birthday on one day. Oh no, March 2010 was the launch of Elizabeth 5.0!

This isn't my normal birthday apparrel, but the lovely birthday outfit that Hazelden Development requires of its staff to don on their birthday. Although I wasn't working in Development at the time, I did have a meeting there that day. My chin is up because the glasses won't stay on otherwise.

I received so many bouquets of flowers on my birthday, that co-workers wondered if someone died.

I celebrated the night of my birthday with my extended family (also known as the Burnsville-Minnesota Valley Figure Skating Club Board of Directors) at Axel's in Eagan.

The Saturday after my birthday was the surprise party that my friends (high school and the Circle of Friends gang) and my family threw for me in Albert Lea. My bestest friend Mary even flew up from Atlanta for the occasion.

That's high school friend Trish Stanley (a friend since junior high) and Circle of Friends buddy Paula Treiber (who, along with her hubby Carl, drove from Sioux Falls for the party) in the picture above. The party was held at Casa Dorman - the best party location in town! (Kudos to Mary Jo Dorman and Jill Peterson for keeping me occupied the day of the party - wine is always a good distraction!)

In May, I traveled with my sister and her family to Drake University for my niece's graduation from pharmacy school. (People say she looks like me, but I think she's far prettier!)

Included on the trip to Drake was my great-nephew Drake (I kid you not!)

And isn't he just the cutest little guy?

On Father's Day, my inner jock, the one that has been fighting to get out for the last 49 years, ran a 5K race - my first! On some days I was training because I wanted to lose weight and on other days I was training because I wanted to prove that I could do it, even at age 50.

The new home for the Minnesota Twins opened this spring and I was lucky enough to have a sister with the right connections and an extra ticket. And not just any ticket - a VIP ticket. It was a fun experience to see the stadium perks that I'll never experience again. Were the seats good? Fourth row behind home plate!

No telephoto lens was used on the photo above. After the game, since it was the Friday before July 4th, we got fireworks!

We celebrated Drake's 1st birthday later that month. My niece Anne (Drake's mom) gave Drake his own cake to play around with. I took lots and lot of pictures of him that day - (Don't you love digital cameras?)

I love making quilts and friends dare me to enter them in contests or county fairs. So in August, I did! Strictly on a whim, I entered a quilt that I made for my bestest friend Mary. I told her that I didn't care what I got, just as long as it was on display for people to see. I ended up getting a Champion ribbon (purple), but instead of hanging up, it was folded up in a display case. On a bright note, all Champion level quiltmakers are entered into a drawing for a $100 gift certificate to the Calico Hutch in Hayward, Minnesota (if you haven't been there - it is one of the best quilt shops I've ever been in!) Guess what? I won!!

Isn't this quilt too pretty to be folded up?

2010 was also the year that I officially became a blogger. And because of the blog, I have met some amazing people and learned so much from them! A group of bloggers, organized by Missy from "The Marketing Mama," got together in January and volunteered together at "Feed My Starving Children," an organization that puts together food packets for people around the world who are in need of nutrition. We learned alot from that.

Then Molly from "The Snyder Five" blog involved many of the Minnesota Bloggers (yes, we've organized!) in a great rummage sale event to raise awareness and money for Hunger in America. It was a cold and rainy day, but we had customers and raised some money.

Then my life totally changed in August when I accepted a position with Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. The fall was a blur of packing, painting, cleaning and moving.

It was a pretty full year, wasn't it?

What's next?

Endings

2011-01-03T08:05:00.000-06:00

Nothing lasts forever.

I'm fine with that. Truthfully, there are times in your life that you can get through only because you know they won't last forever. Bad times have endings and good times have endings.

Just as the year 2010 was coming to a close, so was a moment in my life.

The question that I'm asking myself over and over is, "Do I want closure?" I think my friends might ask me, "Why do you need closure?" "Do you need a placard that says, "The End" to be satisfied?"

I attempted to attain my mythical closure via an email. Not sure why I sent it, but moments after hitting SEND, I started to wonder which would be better? Getting a reply or not?

No reply would make my email similar to a balloon being released into the air, silently watching it get smaller and smaller and farther away. **heavily symbolic with a great visual, but only symbolic!** On the other hand, if I do get a reply and it's not perfectly phrased or, worse still, vague, will it make this desired closure more difficult? Honestly, I really don't know which one I prefer.

The cock-eyed optimist that dwells within my psyche is repeatedly tapping on my shoulder **okay, it's a bit aggressive and sort of slapping me on the back of the head!** and pointing at the calendar. Look! It's a new year and a chance to create something new, something better.

It's the perfect opportunity. That was last year. This is the new year. Let go and let God.

Don't ask "Why?" Ask "What's next?"

The Christmas I'll Never Forget

2010-12-22T10:07:00.000-06:00

A couple of weeks ago, after a successful blog hop about Christmas ornaments, I suggested a blog hop about the "Christmas I'll Never Forget." One of the bloggers thought it would be okay, but "not everyone has a Christmas miracle story." This is not a Christmas miracle story. This is not "It's a Wonderful Life." It is a mixture of "Christmas Vacation" and "Christmas Story."

December 1983 was a horribly cold and miserable month. The week of December 18-24 was the coldest ever seen in the month of December. We had lots of snow already and the temperature never rose above zero. The average was -16 degrees F and windchill ranged from -50 to -70 degrees F.

I had graduated from college that spring and was gainfully unemployed and living at my parents. On Christmas Eve day, my brother and his family (well, wife and 2-year old daughter) arrived in the afternoon. My mom was working that day at the Roadrunner - a 24/7 roadside gas station she co-managed. The station was just on the outskirts of town, right off I90.

www.nataliedee.com

My brother and I were driving out to pick her up and because of the slick roads and my brother's lack of fear of said road conditions, we ended up in the ditch. The windchill was dangerous and even a couple of minutes exposure could mean frostbite. Fortunately, another car came by, picked us up and took us back home.

Opening the door to go back into the house, the metal handle of the storm door snapped off in my hand.

I insisted on driving for the second attempt to pick-up Mom. As I was backing out of the garage, I noticed that there was a small drift of snow in the driveway, so I started to steer the car to avoid it. Unfortunately, the front end of the car was still in the garage. In my parents' new garage. The side of the car hit the garage door mental track and bent it.

If you believe that everything happens in threes, you are going to have to continue counting.

The car was drivable and while I was a bit upset about the whole garage thing, I was determined to still drive out to the Roadrunner. Mom was waiting for us and ready to go home. Yes, it was a 24/7 station, but it would close Christmas Eve at 5 and re-open the following morning, so Mom had to lock the place up. Which she did. When she tried to remove the key, it was frozen in the lock. As we pulled on the key to get it out, it broke. Half of the key was left frozen in the lock. At least the place was locked.

When we finally delivered Mom home safe and sound, my sister and her hubby and two-year old son and 6-month old baby girl were now there. We had our Christmas dinner and when my sister started to mix the baby's formula, the can of formula was bad with what looked like grubs in the mixture. Since the two-year old had an allergic reaction to milk, we didn't trust just giving her regular milk. It's Christmas Eve, there's a -70 degree windchill factor outside and there is no place open to buy formula and it's not like you can just walk over to the neighbors to borrow a cup.

I don't remember how we solved the formula issue. But I do remember the decision I made that week. A friend of mine was going to attend graduate school at Rice University in Houston the next year and she thought I should go with her. One year later - January 1985 - I said goodbye to snow and windchill factors and I moved to Houston, Texas, bragging to my friends how I would never have to deal with those concepts ever again.

It was my second day in Houston when the weatherman announced that snow was on its way and because of the cold temps, he warned Houstonians about the possible windchill and explained what it was. As I pounded my head on the table, they announced that the schools would be closed the next day because of the chance of snow.

It's the Holiday Season

2010-12-05T21:16:00.000-06:00

It will be a strange holiday for me. New job, new town and a temporary living arrangement. So, I'll have a Christmas tree, but it won't be my Christmas tree since I'm living at my sister's. Who, by the way, really gets into decorating the house for the holiday, as I witnessed when she pulled tub after tub of holiday decor out from storage. This ADD kid got a bit overwhelmed by it all.

Christmas is really very distracting for those with ADD as it is truly the holiday of bright shiny objects! Lights, tinsel and ornaments.

I'll be honest and say that there were many years when I didn't even put up holiday decorations if I was too busy or not in the mood. Besides, the last thing I would need is something to further distract me. Plus I think single people have to be really motivated to decorate for the holidays.

If your home is small (like my condo), trees can take up a lot of space. I own two "wall trees" that I would hang on my ever-gawdy mirrored wall. These are half trees, so on the wall, they sort of looked fuller - or at least I thought so.

The two trees have different themes. One is my angel tree and the other - no big surprise to anyone who knows me - is a skating tree. (Suddenly I get a visual of tree skating, but I digress.)

I am SO NOT an angel person, but WAY back in 1988, my mom - who is also a holiday fanatic and should have owned stock in Hallmark - started giving me a Hallmark ornament series - Mary's Angels. As those you who are good with numbers have figured out, I have 21 of these ornaments, with #22 under the tree (hopefully). They are named for flowers and the first one was Daffodil. At least that's my memory of it. I can't be sure because all of my holiday decorations are packed away in a storage unit about 100 miles away from where I am right now. (The photos here are from a website called "Hooked on Hallmark")

I remember opening the gift and looking closely at the ornament and getting a weirded out feeling when I saw the artist's signature on the bottom of the ornament - Mary -was dead-on to my signature when I sign my full name Mary Elizabeth. If you look closely at the ornaments, they also have a very tiny, ridiculously small triangle with a number in it that tells you what number it is in the series. Even when my eyes were younger, I couldn't read it.

My other tree is the Skating tree that has so many ornaments that I may have to get a bigger tree to hold all of them. Many of the ornaments were gifts (hmmm, what do you give a skating judge at Christmas???) and sadly, I might not be able to tell you from who or when I got them - except for one. It was the first one and it was also from my mom. It was Christmas 1978 - my senior year in high school. Mom and I were at the Hallmark store at the Mall and I spotted the ornament and begged her to buy it. I really wanted something special to remember my senior year and an ornament with a skating theme seemed perfect. It hung on the family tree for many years. I don't remember precisely when she gave it to me for my own tree, but I've had on my tree for at least the last 10 years.

It, too, is packed away in storage, in its original box with an old rubber band wrapped around it (that was how my mom would secure all the ornament boxes). Mom wrote on the back of the box the date it was purchased and "This is Mary's." And it is.

I'm A Shopping Machine

2010-12-01T16:57:00.000-06:00

I am not, in any way, a power shopper. No one with ADD could be a power shopper as there are far too many shiny objects out there to distract us. But it doesn't keep me from shopping on Black Friday (and Saturday)

I will also claim that I'm not one of those crazy people who stands outside of Target or Best Buy or any other big box store for "doorbuster deals." (How can it be a doorbuster if the deal lasts until 1 p.m.? hmmm???)

I've seen the people camped out in front of Target on Thanksgiving Day. I have to wonder if the person you are buying for would rather have time with you on Thanksgiving instead of the materialistic item you are waiting for? And if not, are they really worthy of your generosity?

Traditionally, I go Black Friday shopping with my two sisters and while we check out the ads and plan our travels around town, we start very slow, with breakfast at 8 am and then shopping by 9 am.

This year, my sister Chris couldn't make it, so her daughter Kelly took her spot. After a good breakfast at Perkins, we headed to Rosedale. Walking through JC Penney's was a bit disturbing with very, very long line at the registers. We learned from one of the workers that their computer system had crashed about 30 minutes prior and while the system was back online, the programming was messed up and none of the sale prices were ringing up. They had to look up all the sale prices by hand! Talk about a retail nightmare.

As we exited JC Penney's (without buying anything - not surprising), we walked by a woman with several packages, slumped over on the bench, asleep. Underneath the bench were several empty 1/2 & 1/2 cups, perhaps for the cups of coffee she was trying to ingest to keep her awake. I would have taken a photo, but thought it would be rude.

Herberger's was almost as bad, except they hadn't had a computer glitch. The lines were long in the housewares department, but not in the women's department, so while others waited 30 minutes in line, we had maybe 5 minutes to wait. Those shoppers were obviously novices!

When it was time to leave a couple hours later, we discovered that a tire on my sister's car was flat (not until we were driving - ugh!). Got to a service station close by and filled it back up with air. Re-checking it several times that day and it was solid from that point on. Thus, I concluded that we perhaps ticked someone off by taking the parking spot they wanted and they got their revenge by letting the air out of the tire.

www.nataliedee.com

We spent the afternoon in Woodbury, teasing my sister as she kept referring to it as the Woodbury Outlet Mall. It isn't an outlet mall, it's just outside.

We ended the shopping day at the Mall of America. I know Black Friday at MOA may strike fear into the heart of many, but we learned long ago that after 5 p.m. on Black Friday, MOA is relatively normal.

We finished the day with dinner at my favorite Hawaiian steak house - Outback Steak House. (That's sort of an inside joke that has to do with my only visit to Hawaii, several margaritas, drunk dialing and lots of time in the bathroom.)

Kelly had to work Saturday, so Sue and I were on our own. We started at Best Buy at 8:30, but they didn't open until 9. So, we went to the Galleria in Edina (Crate & Barrel, Restoration Hardware, Pottery Barn!), but they didn't open until 10! Ok,back to Best Buy (which was just opening when we got back). After a few hours at the Galleria and lunch at Chipotle, we traversed down I-35 to the Medford Outlet Mall - which really is an outlet mall, but has seen better days - and then to Cabela's to spend quality time looking at stuffed animals. I'll admit the place really creeps me out.

Finally, we got back to Kasson-Mantorville and our final stop of the day was the Kasson Hardware Hank store. Yes, I certainly covered the full spectrum of retail from the Galleria to a Hardware Hank store.

Did I get all my shopping done? Hardly - since many of my purchases were for self-gifting. One of the best gifts I got myself are these "baby beads." They are brightly colored wooden beads that I can fidgety with during long conference calls. Although primarily for babies, the guy did say that people with ADD really like them. Must be the bright colors - now if they were only shiny!

What I'm Thankful For

2010-11-24T11:52:00.000-06:00

It's been one year since I started this blog - November 21, 2009 - and as I look back, I am so thankful for all I have learned in this past year and all the positive changes in my life.

Photo by Schlusselbein2007

Last year, I didn't spend Thanksgiving with my family. On purpose. I wasn't in the mood for Thanksgiving as I had been having regular pity parties for myself leading up to it. I figured that I needed something to snap myself out of the funk, so I volunteered to spend Thanksgiving with strangers, working at homeless shelter serving Thanksgiving dinner. I wanted to remind myself that I was blessed even when I couldn't see the blessings; that I was successful even when I was feeling like a failure. And that your life can change in an instant.

There is a wonderful book out right now that I've downloaded from Amazon called "Open Our Eyes: Seeing the Invisible People of the Homelessness" by Kevin Hendricks (who by chance lives in St. Paul) It contains the stories of families, children, veterans and executives who are now homeless. All the profits of the book benefit a project by Mark Harvath called InvisiblePeople.tv - Mark shares the real stories of the homeless in their own words. And Mark knows homelessness himself, so to say he has the credentials is an understatement.

So next time you think your life is a challenge or start to throw a pity party for yourself, spend 10 minutes watching one of the stories on InvisiblePeople.tv or reading one of the chapters in the book.

Mark usually ends his interview with the question, "if you had three wishes, what would they be?" Their answers show their humanity and their true character. What would your answers be and what would they say about your character?

Small World Indeed

2010-11-23T12:20:00.000-06:00

I was feeling left behind...

First, my bestest friend Mary (who lives in Atlanta) told me about her planned Thanksgiving trip for her family to London. Very cool! Then another best friend Mary Jo (who live in Albert Lea) told me about her planned Thanksgiving trip to London to visit her son Chris (on a semester abroad) and while she invited me to go with her - the lack of vacation and funds were a big hurdle.

Now, Mary and Mary Jo know each other and knew that the other one would be in London at the same time, but they didn't plan on meeting up. As Mary Jo said, we'll leave it up to God. As it should happen, while visiting one of God's houses, Westminster Abbey, the two traveling groups ran into each other!

Mary called me back in the states - "Guess who I'm standing next to at Westminster Abbey?" Since I had just seen the news about William and Kate planning their wedding at Westminster, I blurted out, "Will and the future Queen?" Mary laughed and repeated what I said and I could hear laughter in the background. "Wait, no, you're there with Mary Jo!"

They were surprised to run into each other - but I wasn't.

"I figured you'd see each other somewhere. It's not like it's that big of a town."

Mary exclaimed, "It's a few million people!"

"Yes, but you were both doing the touristy things and that would reduce the number of possible locations by a lot!"

They both just laughed. I was touched that they would call me! (mixed in with my envy...)

NatalieDee.com

It reminded me of the only international call that I've ever made.

I was in Paris in 2000 to celebrate my 40th birthday and to visit another best friend, Jessie. Jessie was studying in Paris and she had a cell phone that could call internationally. (This was WAY BEFORE Skype) We were standing on a high point of the Eiffel Tower and I immediately thought "I bet the cell phone reception up here is pretty good." Jessie asked if I wanted to call someone. Sure! Figuring out the time difference, I decided to try to call my dear friend and choir director Teri - I suspected she would be in her office.

When she picked up the phone, I asked her to guess where I was calling her from. She remembered that I was in Paris, but where was I in Paris?

"Oh, hey, I'm calling you from the top of the Eiffel Tower, with a full moon, overlooking the lights of Paris."

Her response? "You suck." I laughed out loud since it was a pretty sassy way to rub it in. But it's still a story we both tell and I'm sure the call from Mary & Mary Jo will be one I will tell many times.

Stupid Is As Stupid Does

2010-11-18T15:57:00.000-06:00

I've been having a very interesting discussion with myself for days now and I still don't know what to think.

I learned about a situation where an organization had expelled a couple of members for making threats on Facebook. The organization did the right thing, but wanted me to warn people about the "dangers of Facebook."

I reminded the gentleman that Facebook is the tool and not the problem. What they needed to be concerned about was the behavior of these young women. He disagreed with me and felt that young people were not educated on the implications of what they did on Facebook.

Seriously? Now it was my turn to disagree. If young people are not getting the message, it isn't because they haven't been educated, it's because they don't care and they don't think the rules apply to them.

And whose job is it to educate them on the dangers of being stupid on Facebook? The schools try, but they already have so much to teach with ridiculously limited resources. To me, it goes back to the responsibility of the parents. And I asked that question - what did the parents have to say about their children's behavior on Facebook? (Still waiting on that information)

I was given a pdf of one of the members' Facebook wall communications - all 22 pages of it. I was warned that I would be sickened by what it contained. I'm sure the gentleman was referring to this person's vulgar language, but I was sickened more by stupidity of the conversations. I hope her parents haven't invested much in her education because all I saw on those 22 pages were the conversations of a pudden-head idiot and her friends.

The actual threats were only four or five lines, so I couldn't figure out why I received 22 pages. All I could imagine is that they wanted to show the character of the individual (or lack thereof). I really didn't need to see the 22 pages to agree with them regarding the threat and the need for explusion.

I think the thing that most bothered me was MY lack of feeling shocked by it all. Yes, the threat of harming another person was deplorable, but her vulgar language and sexual conversations annoyed me more than nauseate me. (I wanted to Gibbs-slap her and tell her to get a clue.) Am I unaffected by this behavior because I've seen it elsewhere?

I did check out Facebook walls of several of the young people whom I have friended. Luckily, my young friends are much more intelligent, wittier and of higher character than this young woman.

My conclusion: stupid existed long before Facebook; now, they just have a public avenue to display their stupidity.

Hello! My Name Is....

2010-11-15T14:26:00.000-06:00

What's my name?

I haven't suddenly been struck by the classic soap opera disease, amnesia, although this might qualify as an identity crisis. So, I'll ask you again, what's my name?

There isn't a right or wrong answer, but there are several answers.

I was baptized Mary Elizabeth Harty way, WAY back in 1960 and for the first twenty years of my life, I would say my name is Mary Harty. (As a child with a speech impediment who couldn't pronounce R's, everyone thought I was from Boston when I introduced myself)

Once I got to college, I started using my middle name instead of my first. For the past thirty years, when I introduce myself, I'm Elizabeth Harty. My Facebook profile is Elizabeth Harty, not Mary Elizabeth Harty and I know high school friends haven't friended me because they don't know an Elizabeth Harty (seriously people, look at the picture - I haven't changed that much since high school)

I've had several occasions when friends find out that my first name is Mary, they'll tell me "you just don't look like a Mary." (Discuss amongst yourselves what a Mary looks like and get back to me on that)

I started using my middle name for one very good reason - being Mary Harty meant being one of many. There's my aunt Mary Harty, my niece Mary (MJ) Harty, my grandmother was Mary Harty and I have four cousins named Mary Harty - most of whom kept their maiden name when they married.

Don't get me wrong because I like all the other Mary Hartys - heck I'm related to almost all of them, but back then, I wanted to set myself apart. And now, after thirty years, Elizabeth is my identity and I'm comfortable with it.

www.nataliedee.com

I'm in the midst of another identity crisis right now at Mayo Clinic that I've never experienced at any of my previous jobs.

Since my Social Security card shows my name as Mary E. Harty, that is how human resources set-up my email and my company profile. And it is confusing the heck out of everyone.

Last week, one of my bosses was sending an email to set up a meeting and she referred to me several times as Mary when she knows me as Elizabeth - the email address really threw her. If you search for Elizabeth Harty on the Mayo Quarterly (it's the Mayo online phone book), you won't find me.

Oddly enough, when people who know me as Mary call me Elizabeth, that too seems a bit strange. There's just no making me happy, is there?

I've asked several times to have it changed, but as long as my SS card has my name as Mary E. Harty, that's how it will appear on EVERYTHING at Mayo Clinic. Some people may see this as a sign to surrender; I see it as time to change my SS card.

Recovery Is Not For Wimps

2010-11-10T11:49:00.000-06:00

I saw the most amazing news story last night and had to share it with you. Fox 9 News told the very moving story of young woman's journey through recovery from alcoholism.

Heather King is a blogger, a mom and a recovering alcoholic who is brave enough to share her journey with others.

The story was not just about Heather, but about the challenges addicted women face. I was proud that Trish Van Pilsum, the Fox 9 journalist, tapped into the resources of Hazelden's Women's Recovery Center and Hazelden's Butler Center for Research. I learned so much about women and addiction during my time working for Hazelden.

One of the most eye-opening experiences I had while at Hazelden was through their Professionals in Residence program. During my first month on the job, I spent a week learning about addiction and recovery from Hazelden researchers and addiction professionals. It wasn't just lecture; I spent time on the units talking with individuals going though treatment. I was privileged to be included in their small group discussions where often times the true essence of addiction is revealed and break-throughs happen.

I was struck by the difference between the discussions that happened in the men's groups and the women's groups. It was an Ah Ha! moment for me.

There were core points talked about in both groups - what happens when I leave Hazelden? How will I handle life when I have to face what I left behind? Their answers were different - men talked about jobs and the financial repercussions of their addiction, while the women were concerned about their relationships with their families and feeling ashamed of themselves.

Before you accuse me of stereotyping, remember that these were small group discussions and the topics were common denominators, not what each person had to deal with individually. Men in recovery worry about relationships and women in recovery worry about jobs, too.

Unfortunately, addicted women have more barriers to getting help, some perceived and some real. If you are a single mom, you wonder who will take care of your children while you're in treatment? Could you lose custody of your children? What will people think of me? (I've only heard of one center that is set up for women to bring their children with them to treatment.) So often, women put their care giving duties before their own personal health.

When Hazelden opened their doors some 60+ years ago, they only treated men. After all, women weren't alcoholics. (It would be another seven years before Hazelden would open a facility for women.) Thank goodness, we've moved beyond that belief.

Thank goodness we have women like Heather willing to take us along on their journey.

*******

IMHO: There is a difference between reporters and journalists. I don't believe the terms are interchangeable - a reporter stands in front of a camera and reads the facts while a journalist tells a story with words and images that engage you and connects with your emotions. I saw proof of that last night in this story. Fox 9's Trish Van Pilsum is a journalist. Kudos!

Kids Will Be Kids

2010-11-09T13:42:00.000-06:00

Last Friday, a blogger friend of mine (@MollyInMinn) wrote an awesome post about adults behaving like two-year olds. It made me laugh and smile. Click here if you want a smile and to see if you recognize any behaviors you've lived through.

While Molly's post walks you through the day as a two-year old attending business meetings and causing general chaos, it's really about completely dumping filters - saying what you want, when you want and how you want. Dancing on chairs, eating the cupcake before dinner or making a fish face at someone who bores you. Societal norms may tell us we shouldn't live without filters, but it doesn't stop us from dreaming about it. "I wish I could have said..."

Oddly enough, on that same day, Seth Godin - a marketing guru and blogger, had a post called, "Childish vs. Childlike." It was the perfect companion piece to Molly's blog because it points out that acting like a child isn't a bad thing.(Childlike makes a great scientist)

This past weekend, I judged a Basic Skills skating competition where, if I could give points for cute, every kid would win. The sheer joy on their faces was contagious and 99% of them have no fear. They don't know they are supposed to be nervous skating in front of lots of people. They don't know they are supposed to be scared of the judges. They just know that it's fun, that they're with their friends and their family (mom, dad, siblings, aunts, uncles & cousins) are all up in the stands cheering for them.

As Seth says in his post, "Childlike is fearless and powerful and willing to fail." Oh, that is so what I want to be. Let me dance on the chair - just be nearby to catch me.

Now I'm Cooking

2010-11-05T13:00:00.002-05:00

Well, technically, I'm not cooking, but I'm watching someone who is cooking and learning about cooking and that has to count for something, right?

One of my first Ah Ha! moments after my ADD diagnosis was about why I didn't cook. I had always shrugged it off to lack of interest or something, but I realized that I shied away from it because it often required multiple steps. I couldn't pay attention for that long. Forget about baking, too.

A side effect of not cooking is lack of control over what you are consuming. If you're trying to eat healthier, most of the prepared meals out there are poor choices because they are usually high calorie, high fat, and/or high sodium. If you prepare your own meals, you're the one driving the bus.

I figure it's time for me to start driving the bus.

The Dan Abraham Healthy Living Center offers a weekly demonstration called Fit & Flavorful where one of the Mayo executive chefs and a DAHLC dietitian share recipes and nutritional information. I went to my first class Wednesday entitled, "Sensational Seasonal Fruits" and walked away with three recipes that I think I could actually handle.

Chef Nick started with a Pear, Fig & Spinach Salad (total calories: 253 but with 3.7 g of protein & 10.1 g of fiber). It was my first experience with figs besides Newtons and I liked 'em. They're pretty cool looking, too. And according to the nutritionist (Katie), they're pretty high in fiber, iron and calcium. Besides watching the demo of the prep - you get samples! And decent size samples, not like the puny ones you get at Byerly's on Saturdays.

Next up was Peach Roasted Pork Loin (total calories: 333), but instead of using peaches, Nick used nectarines. I learned that with recipes that use a "stone fruit" - plums, peaches, apricots, nectarines - you can interchange them if you prefer one over the other. The flavor was great and I think I would do it with nectarines, too (my apologies to all Georgia peaches).

Finally, desert was Granola Stuffed Apple Halves (total calories: 148). I didn't like this one as much as I thought I would. The recipe has molasses in it and I didn't like the flavor it gave to the granola. I was surprised that the meat of the apple (or whatever the appropriate term is) stayed white after cooking, but I guess that is a characteristic of Cortland apples.

The next Fit & Flavorful cooking topic is Holiday Veggie Medleys and I'm signed up for that one.

DAHLC offers a whole series of cooking classes called "I Am the Chef" and I hope to register for the next round. They also offer a monthly class called "Wielding a Knife" that sounds a bit dangerous, but perhaps I can be trusted with sharp objects again soon.

Stay tuned for My Adventures in Cooking (without burning down a house or causing bodily harm).

Whatever happened to muffin-sized muffins?

2010-11-02T13:03:00.000-05:00

It was the early 1990's and I was working at Fairview Riverside Medical Center in Minneapolis. One of my responsibilities was ordering food for meetings, most of which were breakfast meetings. I ordered a variety of muffins for the meetings and I clearly recall the first time I saw the tray of muffins that were delivered. They weren't muffins; they were mega-muffins. They were three muffins rolled into one.

Eventually, they stopped calling them mega muffins as they were adopted into the main stream of muffin culture. Thus our standard muffin portion was destroyed.

I blame capitalism, but I'll come back to that.

I'm not making any earth-shattering pronouncements here, but portion control in this country is completely out of control. My lunch today was a reminder of that fact.

www.nataliedee.com

I ordered a small portion of Pollo Bianco from Victoria's Express. I ordered small since I was feeling guilty for ordering a white-sauce pasta dish in the first place. They put it in a 5 1/2" square styrofoam container (again more guilt for destroying the environment). They filled the whole, blasted container. Their small portion was something most would have considered as a full portion.

"Would you like a whole wheat or sourdough roll?" they asked. Whole wheat, of course, since I'm all about healthy foods. I'm thinking dinner roll (you know the three-section ones you get with Thanksgiving dinner?) The "roll" portion was equal to a large kaiser roll.

So why do I blame capitalism? It's free market competition: Muffin Vendor A sells regular sized blueberry muffins when along comes Muffin Vendor B (or W for walmart) who wants to destroy, umm... beat the competition. While they could sell the regular muffins cheaper, they figure they could lure more consumers away from Vendor A by charging the same price, but sell a bigger blueberry muffin. Muffin Vendor W puts the information on the nutritional label that the muffin portion is now 3 instead of 1, but who reads that stuff?

Using this thesis, I can now blame the entire problem of obesity and sky-rocketing healthcare costs on capitalism. Oh, sure you could try to convince me that personal responsibility may also play a role, but I'm sticking with blaming capitalism.

I believe my work is done here...

I Used to Love Politics

2010-10-28T17:04:00.000-05:00

I used to love politics, but now I loathe the culture of politics.

And this election cycle has done nothing to renew my passion for the sport... ah... um..., no I'll stay with sport. Just a very bloody and violent sport.

Our culture and/or society has become so extreme, almost radical. If I tell someone that I'm a Democrat, they automatically assume that I'm far left. I can't have a decent political debate with anyone any more because few are willing to talk about the issues with an open mind and they spend most of their energy trying to devalue what the other person is saying.

I would love to see one political ad where the candidate tells you what he/she will do rather than rip into their opponent. They should say what they mean, mean what they say, but they don't have to say it mean. I despise the fact that corporations are throwing money into the campaigns and trying to sway the electorate. I think it just adds to the corruption.

www.nataliedee.com

Political Science was my minor in college and I pictured myself having a career in politics - not as the candidate, but the political operative. I think I got that from my Dad. He was involved with local politics, but enjoyed the back room politics more than being upfront.

I had an internship in Representative Tim Penny's Mankato office and determined that I like the action of the campaign versus the governance process. (I would guess that is my ADD since campaigns are constantly moving and changing.)

I worked on several campaigns while in college and in the years following. I eventually got a real job out of financial necessity, but enjoyed many conversations with my Dad as we watched the early CNN political talk shows (before they turned into snipefests).

I'm still a political junkie as I will be watching the election returns this Tuesday night and listening to the analysis and missing my Dad. The first time I realized how much I enjoyed talking politics with my Dad was the night of the 1994 election (when Newt and his boys took over). He had passed away the previous April, but there were several times that night that I wanted to pick up the phone and call him.

I don't think my Dad would be enjoying politics anymore either.

Sometimes the truth is overrated

2010-10-27T15:44:00.000-05:00

It's time to get up off my bum and get back to the work of improving my health. I was doing pretty well this past summer with the 5K and such, but then the Mayo interview process started, followed by all the activities to move, etc. and exercise was not at the top of my "to do list."

www.nataliedee.com

Between the great food and sweets at the B&B and the goodies that regularly appear in the office, I saw the scale going in the wrong direction and that just had to be stopped immediately! The fastest route to that might be to toss the scale or to resist the temptations around me, but neither of those scenarios are likely to happen.

I had no other option, I joined the Dan Abrahamsen Health Living Center (DAHLC) at Mayo Clinic. It is the super cool fitness center for Mayo Clinic employees, families and volunteers. The location of the DAHLC is across the street from my office, so it will be convenient.

While the facility itself is rather awesome, the resources that are offered by the DAHLC are even better. You can have a wellness evaluation to help you set your baseline for fitness.

The evaluation provides you with information that you already know, but may have been in denial about. Your body composition and resting metabolic rate are determined by sitting in the Bod Pod, an egg-shaped device using Air Displacement Plethysmography. (Yes, I looked that up and no, I don't really know what it means. Google it.)

If you're claustrophobic, you won't like it.

They recently added a BVI Patient Scan as part of the wellness evaluation. It is a technology that uses a 3D white-light scanner to analyze your body fat distribution. There are only two of these in the United States and they are both at Mayo Clinic. This scan is better for the catastrophic since you stand in a 7 foot tall square booth (Reminded me of the photo booths at arcades). Sixteen sensors and 32 cameras measure you and produce a virtual body image. Then they print it out to take with you. Oh joy! I was already completely aware of the location of my body fat, I did realize that my posture sucks.

The final part of the evaluation involves a treadmill and a gas mask. Technically, it's not a gas mask, but I don't know what the technical term is and it looks like a gas mask. The mask is attached to your face (breathe normal - seriously? With this thing on my face?) and tetthered to a computer that is measuring your heart rate and your maximal oxygen uptake (VO2).

I must not have put my heart rate monitor on correctly because it went from 150 to 21 to 187 to 68. Or maybe my heart is just really messed up.

At the end, you get yet another print out with the results of this test. The computer predicts your VO2 Max level and I thought I rocked because I hit 96% of the predicted level. But I was dragged back to reality when the tech told me that computer's prediction is based on a value scale and my predicted value was in the bottom percentile.

Oops.

So, now I begin the next part of my fitness journey. I just have to get my bum out of bed and get in a morning work out. Stay tuned.

Fatty, Fatty, Two by Four...

2010-10-26T20:48:00.000-05:00

My uncles told me a story when I was young that I didn't realize was a joke until I was older. They would say, "Dad was training a horse not to eat. Just as he got him trained, it up and died on him."

I was reminded of that story today as I read a horrible and bigoted blog post today on the Marie Claire website and then watched as the Twitterverse and Blog-o-sphere went nuts beating up on the magazine editors and the blogger. The post was a critique of the new CBS show "Mike and Molly," a comedy about two people who fall in love after they meet at an Overeaters Anonymous meeting. The blogger wrote about how obese people gross her out and how obesity is something that most people have control over, if they only put their mind into it. Then the former anorexic gives advice on how to lose weight. How helpful.

Fat-bashing is really the last acceptable bigotry. If she had taken her piece and substituted Black, Jewish, Hispanic or any other nationality, she might have realized what she was really saying. I'll take one of her paragraphs and change all the fat references to Black.

"I think I'd be grossed out if I had to watch two black characters kissing each other ... because I'd be grossed out if I had to watch them doing anything. To be brutally honest, even in real life, I find it aesthetically displeasing to watch a black person simply walk across a room – just like I'd find it distressing if I saw a very drunk person stumbling across a bar or a heroine [sic] addict slumping in a chair."

She's ticked off a lot of people. At last count, the blog post had almost 600 comments! And I would assume Marie Claire had many canceled subscriptions.

Her comparison to an addict (regardless of her poor spelling) upset people, but it might not be very far off. An addiction to food is the toughest addiction to beat because unlike alcohol and drugs, a food addict still has to eat to stay alive. You don't see many alcoholics being told that they still can drink, but only in moderation.

Our society's image of the perfect body is impossible to live up and there are hundreds of therapists who have a booming practice because of this impossible standard.

Interestingly, another magazine -Redbook- got blasted because they airbrushed a photo of Faith Hill because you could see her wrinkles and slightly messy hair. Faith Hill gets airbrushed?

So we can't age or gain weight or have a bad hair day - EVER?

My guess is that the blogger's body image issues manifested themselves as this vile post. Doesn't make it okay, but provides proof that discrimination touches so many people.

What is normal?

2010-10-25T14:34:00.000-05:00

I'm feeling a bit out of sorts.

I'm waiting for the moment when I start feeling normal again. Normal might be the wrong descriptor. (I've never felt "normal" in my life and I'm okay with that.) I'm trying to figure out my new routine and feel settled.

There's always a transition time with a new job and this transition could take months. Maybe years. I'm getting assignments for projects, but then face the reality that I have no idea who I have to contact or what resources I have. Genelle is a dream of an administrative support and her knowledge is great, but I've always been a person who likes to figure things out for myself. That independence could be hurting my productivity and it's time to change.

But my lack of routine extends beyond the job. I'm living with my sister and brother-in-law and while they are incredibly welcoming, it's still not my home. I'm a guest, but not really. Most guests don't get their own garage door opener.

This past weekend, I was up in the Cities and stayed at my condo. Except it didn't feel like my condo. Some of my stuff is there, but a friend has moved in with some of her own furniture, so it looks a bit different. One moment that was most "out-of-body" happened when I walked into the bedroom closet and it was full of someone else's clothing.

I'm stuck between two worlds. The condo isn't on the market yet, but will be very soon. It could be months before it sells and I'll be living in this limbo until then.

I guess I have to put on my big girl pants (what the hell does that mean anyway?) and create my own normal.

I'll start by setting a couple of goal for this week. Today, I brought my lunch instead of eating out. (Cuz I bought a very cool new neoprene lunch bag)

www.nataliedee.com

Tomorrow is my wellness evaluation at the Dan Abrahamson Healthy Living Center and I'm going to get back to working out.

Normal will be whatever I decide it is.

I shall suffer no fools...

2010-10-21T20:10:00.008-05:00

(I was just walking around inside my head when I came across a soap box. It was just sitting there, waiting for someone to step upon it and start ranting. Seeing no one else around, I figured what the heck...)

If there is one character trait that I value more than any other, it is intelligence. And it doesn't have to be book learning intelligence. Some people just have it without having to get a Ph.D. (not that there's anything wrong with that...) I love spending time with smart people. Particularly, if they are willing to share what they know.

I divide them into two categories - smart people that can have a normal conversation and those that can't, as they are too busy babbling on about how smart they are. I like the former; not the latter. The second type are usually unable to share information without sounding like they're lecturing.

I like people with intelligence because what they share usually will get my brain firing and I can stay engaged for long periods of time.

I'm not 100 percent sure why non-intelligent people irritate me so, but I have a very difficult time listening to them as they pretend that they know what they are talking about. I would respect them more if they would just own up, say they don't know, and be open to learning.

www.nataliedee.com

This is really a long build up to tell you how much the Delaware Republican candidate for Senate, Christine O'Donnell, just ticks me off and how I day dream about just slapping the back of her head (Gibbs-slap) and tell her to shut up before she says anything more.

Who is advising this woman? Who thought it would be a good idea to have her do a debate at a law school when she doesn't even know what's in the constitution? I was dumbstruck when she said that the constitution doesn't mention the separation of church and state. It's in the first amendment, so it wasn't even like she had to read the entire document to find it.

Granted, I can't list all of the amendments to the constitution off the top of my head; but hand me my iPhone and I can do it. Cuz you know, there's an app for that and I have it.

What's that old saying? It is better to be quiet and thought a fool then to open your mouth and remove all doubt.

Christine, there are less than two weeks before election day. I would advise you to stop talking before Saturday Night Live is able to write an entire show around your brand of crazy.

(Stepping off the soap box and exiting stage left...)

Remembering Bridget

2010-10-14T21:50:00.004-05:00

I don't remember the exact dates and, frankly I don't care to remember the exact dates. I just remember that it all happened during October 1999. That's when I learned first-hand the human destruction of drunk driving.

I had a friend named Bridget. She was your classic Irish lass from the Philly area with a soprano voice that would soar to the heavens.

I first met Bridget in 1996 when I joined the Basilica Cathedral Choir. Bridget and I were new to the choir and we teamed up with two other new sopranos, Leslie and Mary Lee. The four of us bonded quickly and became our own support group for whatever issue was plaguing us.

In the summer of 1999, Bridget had fallen in love and we were all very happy for her. I didn't know the guy or ever meet him, I just heard about him when our gang gathered together.

On a Friday evening in October 1999, Bridget and her boyfriend went out on a date. The boyfriend had too much to drink, but chose to drive anyway. Worst of all, Bridget trusted him enough to get into the car with him.

Somehow on a dry and clear night, he managed to slam Bridget's side of his car into a cement abutment. When help arrived and they were getting Bridget out of the car, the boyfriend failed her again. Bridget's purse (and ID) were locked in the trunk of the car, so when the authorities arrived, he refused to talk and Bridget was sent to Fairview Southdale as a Jane Doe.

It would be almost a day before they were able to confirm her identity and contact family members. I wouldn't learn about her accident until Sunday morning. I went over to the hospital immediately and couldn't recognize her. Her face was puffy and bruised and there were wires and tubes everywhere.

She had suffered a traumatic brain injury as the force of the impact had bounced her brain around in skull and severed the brain stem. She was gone except for the machines keeping her body alive.

I was so angry that someone that Bridget had loved had done this to her. He walked away with minor injuries. (Although charged with vehicular manslaughter, he only served time in a work house.) I was also a bit angry at Bridget for trusting him, for getting in the car. She was smarter than that.

Bridget's family had to make the decision to remove her from life support. We were told that she would be removed from life support on Tuesday. I had said my goodbye to her and waited for the call. Only it didn't come.

The next day I learned that, even though she had been removed from life support, her body was still still fighting to stay alive. I went back to the hospital that night and sat with another friend at Bridget's bedside.

I'm glad that I did. This time, I recognized her. I touched her face and arranged her bangs - her forehead was very warm as she had a fever - pneumonia had been attacking her lungs. But Bridget was a trained singer and her lungs were strong and weren't about to give up so easily.

We sat with her and told her that it was okay to let go. I said my goodbye again.

The next morning, she was gone.

I remember I sent an email to my nieces and nephews that day (at least the oldest five). I told them about my friend Bridget and how she was gone because she got in a car with someone who was drunk - someone she had trusted. I told them to never ever ride with someone who had been drinking, and regardless of the time or the place, they were to find another way home.

The saying: Friends don't let friends drive drunk, should be amended to say - Friends don't let friends drive drunk and most definitely don't ride along with them.

Bridget, we still miss you.

Giving blood on a volunteer basis

2010-10-11T16:02:00.000-05:00

I am a big believer in blood drives and giving blood. Blood transfusions have saved many lives and the need for blood never wanes. One blood donation could help up to three people.

If you’re looking for my gallon pin, you can quit right now. I haven’t given blood since 1986. That’s when the Red Cross and their affiliates recommended that I NOT be a blood donor. I don’t have any horrible disease that would disqualify me. They just don’t like having donors that pass out after giving blood. Not really ideal public relations.

Let me take you back to my last time giving blood. It was January 1986 and there was a blood drive happening at the University of Houston for the Shriners’ Childrens Hospital Burn Unit. Now I have a soft spot in my heart for the Shriners because my nephew was helped by their Minneapolis hospital. Add to that, although minor, I was once a burn patient. (oh, that’s a WHOLE ‘nother blog post)

It was about 2 in the afternoon and I had a 3 o'clock meeting, so I figured I had plenty of time. It took a bit of time to get the paperwork done before starting the donation process. So it was about 2:20 before they put the needle in my arm and starting collecting blood. I don’t remember the exact timing, but I remember seeing that my friends were already done and enjoying the cookies and orange juice while I was only about ½ way done. (something to do with my slow heart rate…)

I was going to be late for the meeting, so my friends went ahead and I would just be a bit late. When I was done and it was my turn for cookies and OJ, I was sitting in the chairs by the wall, looking at the clock. I remember feeling a bit light-headed.

When you think you’re going to faint, you are told to sit down and put your head down below your heart; basically between your knees. There is only one problem with that recommendation – when you’re in that position and you faint, your face hits the floor first.

I recall coming to and hearing people say my name. I thought “oh, they know me…” (You’re a bit goofy after fainting sometime). I remember my cheek hurting and the staff offering me an ice pack. I don’t remember how long it took before they let me leave, since I was alone (all my friends were at the meeting and this was pre-cell phones).

The meeting I was supposed to be attending was in the lower level of the building and I made it there just as it was ending. I walked in and was starting to apologize for missing the meeting, but everyone was staring at me.

“What happened to you?”

“I gave blood.”

“Through your eye?”

The entire right side of my face was swelling up and turning colors. It was very pretty by the end of the week – the swelling went down, but there were so many colors involved with the black eye.

And that’s the last time I gave blood - on a volunteer basis. And since I can't give blood, I encourage others to do it for me! And if you can't give blood - give money.

Everything I've Learned...so far

2010-10-08T10:05:00.001-05:00

It's the end of Week 4 of my great Mayo Clinic ~~experiment~~ experience.

It doesn't seem like I've been here for a month, but I've already received two paychecks, so it must be true.

I've already made my first mistake (the first of many, no doubt) and the place is still standing. I've been told not to worry, you won't break Mayo.

Yesterday, Deb (another public affairs newbie) and I finished our first very big project and handed it over to leadership. Let me re-phrase that, Deb and I finished phase one of our first very big project, because we're sure that after the Monday meeting, where it is being reviewed, there will be more to do.

I got my official Mayo Clinic business cards yesterday and when looking at them today, I nearly hyperventilated (and thought I had made my second Mayo Clinic mistake). My phone number had the wrong prefix! How could I have screwed that up? I went to see Genelle (my AWESOME support person) with my head hanging down. She didn't laugh (out loud) at me as she explained that the prefix on the card was correct for external callers and the prefix that I had been telling people is the internal exchange only. "Oh... excuse me, I need to go change the signature on my emails..."

While I'm adjusting to my little corner of Mayo Clinic, I am constantly in awe of what I see and hear happening all around me. Did you see the story of the Canadian woman who had cancer and to save her life, the Mayo surgeons cut her in half, removed the cancerous areas and then put her back together?

Then there is the first clinical Hand Transplant Program in the United States here at Mayo. Imagine the soldiers who have lost their hands due to IEDs in Iraq and Afghanistan having the option to receive a new hand via transplant.

What I have figured out so far...

I have the subway system about 90% figured out
I have learned that no meetings start on time unless you're late for them
Where I can get Diet Coke on a Pepsi campus
I've learned that "We take out our own garbage" is not a euphemism - we actually have to take out our own garbage
I managed to get a Mac assigned to me - now I just need it to have network access
I found the list of "unwritten rules" online (technically that would make them written...)
I still have no clue as to how to work my pager or voice mail
The acronyms used here are the biggest challenge for new people - I can't assume a Mayo acronym is the same as a real world acronym
and best of all, I can use the "I'm new" qualifier for two to three years

As for the pager, I was given sage advice from my seasoned co-workers: Gather all the newbies together and page each other until you figure it all out.

Now I just have to find the directions on how to turn the pager on...

What color is my ribbon supposed to be?

2010-10-05T13:27:00.001-05:00

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Suddenly the month that used to be about oranges and browns, is all about pink. Why is that?

How does one form of cancer gain a higher profile than another form of cancer? I know that breast cancer doesn't have the highest mortality rate - that's lung cancer (their awareness month is November). The last list I saw had breast cancer at number five. So how does breast cancer get so much press?

I think it is the combination of various factors - marketing, money, community and women.

The Susan G. Komen Foundation is responsible for the marketing and the money. They have been brilliant on how they have brought their story and the stories of thousand of women to the media. They have amazing fundraising efforts - both event-related fundraising and major gift fundraising from philanthropic individuals and foundations. Their events such as the "Race for the Cure" raise both dollars and visibility. Komen started the pink ribbon campaign. All I can say is kudos to this amazing organization.

The last two factors are really inter-connected. Breast cancer has a higher profile because a community of women have bonded together to face this disease head on. Survivors reach out to newly diagnosed women and those going through treatment. They give them the message you are not alone and we're proof that you can survive this disease. The more women who joined this unregistered sisterhood, the stronger it became. The survivors carry the Komen message forward and become advocates for breast cancer awareness and research.

(I have plenty of friends who have battled this disease and, blessedly most have beaten it. And I don't want them to think that this blog post is to diminish their experience because that is certainly not the case. This is just me wondering out loud.)

I think the "women" part of the equation is most important. Our gender usually shares more of ourselves with other women. I'm not sure if a brotherhood has been created among the men who have survived lung cancer or colon-rectal cancer.

I did notice that the most outspoken advocate and fundraiser for colon-rectal cancer is a woman. Katie Couric lost her husband to the disease and has been speaking out ever since. Women are just natural advocates and you'd be smart not to mess with any of us when we have found our calling!

When my sister was battling esophageal cancer two years ago, I didn't hear of any esophageal cancers survivors reaching out to her. I couldn't find an esophageal cancer month or find out if they even have a ribbon. That being said, I did notice that the cancer survivors who did reach out to my sister and supported her were mostly breast cancer survivors. And a big thank you to them!

Cancer is a sucky, horrible disease that we all need to battle against, regardless of the type.

Maybe It is an Apple a Day

2010-10-01T07:13:00.000-05:00

Health care should be focused on the kitchen instead of a clinic.

Dr. Preston Maring of Kaiser Permenente in Oakland, California believes you have to eat well to be well. Makes sense and I would love to be able to follow his example, but finding the time and the organic and non-processed food is always my challenge.

I am not holding myself up as a model of healthy eating, because you would leave the room laughing, but this New York Times article really started me thinking about what I eat. Considering my genetic lineage (my father had diabetes, his mother had diabetes, her mother had diabetes), I have a very high probability of getting diabetes, so what I eat and how much I exercise should be a priority for me instead of an after-thought.

www.nataliedee.co

I guess I've been thinking about nutrition and food a lot in the last couple of weeks after listening to a presentation by Mrs. Q. Who is Mrs. Q, you ask? Technically, I don't know who she is because she's an anonymous blogger and grade school teacher who authors the blog called "Fed Up With Lunch: The School Lunch Project." She writes about what we are feeding our kids at school and how our government cares so little for the nutritional needs of children. If the government really wants to have an impact on future health care costs, they should start with public school lunches.

France has a great school lunch program with very strict regulations that focuses on nutrition rather than costs. Their strict diet regimen is so high quality that most of us would consider it gourmet. Check out this story on CBS News.

I know organic foods are better for me, but I rationalize not buying them because they generally cost more than their non-organic siblings. However, if I were to spend a few more pennies or dimes on an organic product, what would it save on my health care costs?

Perhaps the best place for me to start is with the basics and take baby steps. Stop and think about my choices. Another Diet Coke or water instead? Candy bar or a banana?

Is it really that difficult to make better food choices?

Meet the Girls!

2010-09-29T14:45:00.002-05:00

It's "Wordless Wednesday!" That's where Minnesota bloggers will only have pictures on the blogs. I've never been able to do Wordless Wednesdays because, well, I'm not very good at going "wordless." So, I'll just include more

I've always loved dogs. They love you no matter what your day has been like and they are so thrilled to see you at the end of the day, each and every day.

Unfortunate for me, the condo I've been living in for the last decade won't allow dogs. Cats, yes. Dogs, no. And trust me, I am NOT a cat person.

www.nataliedee.com

Thanks to my time at the Knutson B&B, I'm able to get my dog fix without having actual responsibility for their care and feeding.

There are actually four dogs, but the two labs are outdoor dogs and the two indoor dogs are Tuts (pronounced "Toots") and Bea - or as I call them - "the girls."

Tuts, an English Bulldog, is the older of the two and I think she's around 5 or 6 years old. Bea, a miniature dachshund, just celebrated her first birthday this past Saturday.

Tuts

I would bet that you think that Tuts is a very odd name and you'd be right. She was named for our Great-Aunt Tuts (her real name was Susan). She was a colorful old lady who would sit around in her house dress, smoking cigarettes and listening to Twins games on the radio.

Aunt Tuts lived with her sister Harriet, but we just called her Aunt Har (hare). When Bea showed up last Thanksgiving, I thought for sure they would name her Har. Alas, I was wrong.

Bea

Bea and Tuts greet me when I get home each day. Tuts will bring that blue ball with the expectation that I'll be playing with her right away. And if I start to play with Tuts, Bea will be right there, nipping at Tut's ears and legs. Tuts will growl a bit at her, but not with much conviction.

It didn't take me much time to learn that if I start to pay attention to one dog, the other one will show up. Now Bea is able to jump up on the couch and cuddle on your lap. Tuts, at about 50 pounds of sheer muscle and short legs, can't really jump up on the couch to cuddle. She'll just lift up her front paw and look at you with those puppy eyes while drooling on your knee.

They seem to travel as a set because if I go downstairs, they will both follow me. I think it's more because I'm the newest thing around the house. Tuts is bit more restrained, but Bea will go into the bathroom with me or follow me into my bedroom and jump onto the bed and bury herself in the covers.

It's great to get that kind of love and attention. As long as you have a lint brush handy.

Another Week, Another Article on Adult ADHD

2010-09-27T21:51:00.000-05:00

I don't search out articles about adult ADHD, but I usually seem to find at least one or two articles a week. I read them to see how the disorder is presented and to perhaps learn something new. About 90% of the time, the articles will only focus on the negative and never talk about the positive aspects of the disease.

www.nataliedee.com

The most recent article was in this weekend's Parade Magazine and after reading it, I felt compelled to have a giant "L" tattooed on my forehead.

According to the article, I'm eight times more likely than the general population to take dangerous risks, twice as likely to get into traffic wreaks, 50% more likely to be unemployed and earn about $15,000 less than others, have unstable relationships, mood swings, disorganization and am more prone to alcohol and drug abuse.

I guess the alcohol and drug abuse could be true since I'm so depressed about being a messy, unemployed relationship-destroying individual with a smashed up car.

Yes, I'm more likely to take a risk, but by taking those risks, I may find greater opportunities and learn new things.

I know that I'm fortunate to have been diagnosed because I can coach my friends and family on how I communicate, how I learn and what I do as coping mechanisms that they may not understand (Such as when I go to a restaurant, I'll sit with my back to the entrance so I don't spend the entire dinner getting distracted by their newest guest).

Helpful hint to reporters writing about adult ADHD: try to talk about the positives as much as you talk about the challenges. If you don't, you're not really giving an honest portrayal of the individuals living with the disorder.

Switching the Brain On...at the wrong time

2010-09-22T15:09:00.003-05:00

So much have been going on in my life in the last 30 days, that I'm starting to be physically exhausted at the end of the day. Logically, I would be sleeping well each night. But I'm not and I'm blaming my brain.

I've talked about all I've learned about ADD and the brain from the books written by Dr. Daniel Amen. His research shows the difference between the ADD brain at rest and when trying to focus. Instead of kicking in when trying to focus, the prefrontal cortex of the ADD brain shuts down when it's supposed to power up. And the reverse is true - when you're not trying to do anything, that's when your brain starts to fire up.

Starting a new job means that I've been learning so many new things and trying to absorb it all. Now, I've been doing okay staying focused during the day thanks to my friend, Mr. Ritalin. What goes wrong happens when I'm trying to sleep, my brain won't shut down.

Tuesday morning, I woke up at 3 a.m. with my brain going full steam, obsessing on leaky bath tub faucet. Seriously! And I couldn't get back to sleep. I would try to push the leaky faucet out of my head only to have it replaced by moving the furniture out of the condo and then to skating stuff.

www.nataliedee.com

I've had episodes of my brain switching on in the middle of the night before. I had many sleepless nights during the months leading up the 2008 U.S. Figure Skating Championships (I was the event chair) and my doctor wrote me a prescription for Ativan. I took it only when I was desperate for sleep. I didn't want to become one of those people who started the day with a stimulant and then end the day with a downer.

Even worse, Ativan seems to last into the morning and I'm just as tired as I would be if I hadn't taken the medication. Maybe even worse.

I don't hear many other people talking about this type of thing happening to them, so I wonder if it is strictly an ADD issue? Whether it is or not, it is certainly a pain!

I guess I should really take the time to learn meditation to help me on nights like these. Meditation not medication. Ommmmmmm...

The Humility of Being a Newbie

2010-09-20T11:29:00.000-05:00

If you ever want to feel humbled and a bit helpless, change jobs. No, let’s make that more complicated – change jobs, change companies and move to another city. That’s how I’m feeling as I start my second week at Mayo Clinic. Very, very humble.

www.nataliedee.com

One month ago, I was a busy and productive employee of Hazelden. If I needed something, I knew where to go or who to ask. I could speak at meetings and feel confident that what I was saying was pertinent to the situation and perhaps provide a solution. If a meeting was scheduled, I knew how to get to the meeting room.

Not feeling very confident right now. Thankfully, the majority of my meetings are in the department, so I just have to walk down the hall.

It only took me two days to work up the courage to tackle the voice mail set-up. The system at Hazelden was so complicated that painful memories were blocking my progress. I’m happy to report that Mayo Clinic’s voice mail system is much easier once you tap into the knowledge of two or three members of the administrative support team. Then have another staff member point out that you have to turn off your “Send Calls” in order to receive calls. I haven’t actually received a call on my phone yet, but I think eventually someone will dial my number by mistake.

On a purely materialistic level, I’m adjusting to not being the geekiest person in the department and that means I don’t have the coolest computer set-up. I know, I know… that’s not important and it’s not that big of deal, but I’m pretty sure the computer I have right now is steam-powered since it takes forever to pull up a document. I am comforted by the knowledge that it’s scheduled to be replaced in the coming month.

And I do miss my dual 22” flat-panel LCD monitors. Do you think that risk eye strain from a mere 15” monitor?