To Everything There is a Season: 2015 Was the Season of Upheaval.

This post is part of ThinkKit by SmallBox.

January 2, 2016 prompt: "Give us the 30,000 foot view. Or hone in on a few highlights.  Let's bring last year to life before moving on to what's ahead.”


To Everything There is a Season:  2015 Was the Season of Upheaval.



This would be a time when keeping a journal, or blogging on a regular basis, would come in handy. Since I do neither I’ll have to wing it.

The major changes at work include my Director announcing she will be moving!  When she first arrived I thought she loved our Service. That's what she said anyway. But then she started hacking away. I am convinced she wants to abolish it. I've seen Directors come and go and when I saw what she intended, I figured I would have to lay low, keep my nose clean, and endure her for two or three years. Unless this was her last assignment before retiring. Then she might stay longer. During the Arizona VA problems her focus was diverted and she didn't do too much damage to our service. During the last six months she's been a bit more focused, resulting in a resurgence in the damage. Without warning her intention to leave us February 2016 was announced. I'm ecstatic and hoping the majority of her remaining two months she will once again be other-focused.

In addition, my supervisor was promoted to my Service Chief. I am thrilled she now has better things to do than try and micro-manage me. When I reminded her that I have been highly successful, as evidenced by my previous evlutions, because my former supervisor (who was also and our former Service Chief) empowered me to work independently--and then allowed me to do so--she backed off the micromanagement for a while. Unfortunately, her need to micromanage was stronger.  The good news is, now she's micromanaging my new supervisor.

I really like and respect my new supervisor.  She it new to the VA, so she's having to learn the VA way of doing things, but she's bright and catching on quickly. So far she has listened to those of us on the front lines and has supported us when she could. She has made some unpopular decisions, but I think she is fair.

After being without a weekend-float, we finally hired John. He came to us with no case management experience, so we knew it would be a while before he would be up and running independently. Over the months I could see he was struggling and not happy. He called me constantly.  I don't mind that at all.  One of the things I love most about Nursing is the teaching aspect, so mentoring comes second nature to me. I never understood the concept of Nurses “eating their young.”  He eventually rendered his resignation.

Because our new supervisor listens to us, she asked if we would rather not have weekend coverage until someone else was hired and trained (a minimum of 3 months--which has lasted a year the last time). Or, would we rather suck it up and work overtime on the weekends. Our former supervisor made the decision for us and we just about died on Modays when we had the work of three days to do all at once. I immediately told the group I would prefer weekend overtime, otherwise Mondays are killer!  Especially on my very high turnover ward.  Everyone agreed. We had been killing ourselves every Monday for the past year, and with the five of us, our weekend rotation would not be bad. We did that through Thanksgiving and Christmas and then he rescinded his resignation. At least until he has secured another position.

In addition to the upheaval at work, there has been Family Drama.  My Family in Florida continues to not speak to me since the death of Daddy the year before. While I was there, placing Daddy first in the hospital, and then transitioning into hospice, over what was supposed to be a fast and furious long weekend trip, I ended up having emergency surgery and remained at Mama’s during my recuperation.  As horrid as emergency surgery 850 mikes away from home is, it allowed me to be there when Daddy died.

Unfortunately, my family is dysfunctional when it comes to funerals. We've been fractured since a fight that could have been avoided if we had acted with an ounce of maturity. This past year I only saw Mama, my Nephew, and my Great Neice. And the visit was brief.

In Houston, my elderly Aunt and Uncle need to sell their home and go into Assisted Living, but are extremely reluctant. Their Son, my favorite Cousin, received a liver transplant; however, in early December he succumbed. I've been making the 3 1/2 hour trip a at least 1-2 weekends a month for most of the year. In the process, I've neglected chores I need to do, writing, and most importantly, the rest of my Texas family (who are also aging).

I took no epic vacations this year; however, I did rent a cabin in the mountains of northern Georgia for a week during November. It was my plan to finally finish the long stalled novel I've not been writing. I purchased a new laptop, bought the same Windows Professional program I use at work, and had it installed. It may say it's the same, but it's not. Trust me. It doesn't even look like my desk top at work.

I transferred the novel files to the new computer. I signed up for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). I was set. But for some reason I couldn't open the files. And the new laptop does the same thing the old one did--I'll be typing along and out of the blue the text evaporates!  Someone told me recently that's a glitch with laptops. Really?!  I don't remember my original laptop doing it until after it got a virus. If that's a problem with all laptops, I wonder if plugging in a real keyboard will alleviate the problem?  Something I'll have to look into. But back to the cabin...

The cabin was cozy and relaxing, and since I wasn't writing, I spent my time there doing nothing except cooking and watching cable, and the fire.  And watching out for bears. And locking myself out in my nightgown. And running out of water when the pump ran dry. But, because I'm such a good sport, I'll get two free days on my next rental. And this cabin is definitely one I want to return to! It's cozy, constructed of hand hewn logs, has a gas fire place and jacuzzi tub inside, a wrap around covered and screened porch with a wood burning fireplace outside, several uncovered decks with a hot tub, and fire pit--all in a very natural wooded area, that feels secluded when in fact their are nearby neighbors--and it's dog AND cat friendly. And a picturesque town to explore just down the mountain.

After I made the cabin reservations I found out my Second Cousin and his Wife (who work for the Forest Service in the Virgin Islands) have recently purchased a house in the next town over--just 15 miles away! The last time he lived stateside, he lived next door to my Mama in Florida.  They were actually in town because they come stateside for her medical treatments once every three months. Her Mother lives just down the street from them in a very nice gated community. I was Not their only visitor--a bear visited the night before. We know this because we saw the remains of several bear-demolished bird feeders--theirs and a couple of their neighbors.

As for me and the FurKids, we are getting older. Bandit and I are slowing down. This was the first year we didn't make a quick dash to NOLA to walk in the Barkus Parade during Mardi Gras. And we also didn't make it to the Atlanta Braves Bark in the Park game.  The trip from Texass just seemed too much this time around. We continue to boycott the Texas Rangers dog game since the last time we went they stuck us in seats that I clearly told them were in full sun--not acceptable for a hairless pup (they argued with me, and said the seats would be in the shade during the game because of the time change. I again disagreed, but went ahead and reserved the seats because they said they were the “only ones available” in that section and the section I had requested had been “full for weeks and weeks.”  We arrived, the sun was full force and there was NO shade in the entire section they had us in.  When the sun became unbearable, we stood under an awning for the remainder of the game. I fumed as I counted dozens of shaded seats in the section I had requested!) Although I love the Rangers I've given their dog day game bad reviews ever since.

While Bandit and I are slowing down, the rescue kitty is picking up speed. Moggy was rescued in October 2014 and started out being a sweet white kitty with three black spots on the head and around the ears. They almost, but don't quite, form a Micky Mouse head. The only other markings are rings of black at the tail base that turn into a solid black tail. Because of the darker ears I thought there might be some Siamese; however, the green eyes indicate otherwise. As I researched cats with similar markings I came across a Siamese website that talked about Moggies--the British slang for Maggie which is the equivalent of a feline whose parentage is unknown.  I had been leaning toward “Pip” as a name because of the black dots. Pips are the dots on die or domino tiles. But “Moggie” was a pretty cool name as well. I decided to combine the name and ended up with “Pip de la Moggie” as the pretentious name on the Vet records. Until the Vet rather gleefully informed me that she was in fact a he. Pip de la Moggie is now re-named “Pip-Moggy.” Think Gangsta. And he's living the gangsta life.

Moggy has recently started terrorizing Bandit. I yelled at him earlier this week and informed him, “Bandit is number one! Always!” He settled down for all of about a minute. I've had to swat him a couple of times now for biting. I will not tolerate biting. When he pounced around corners to pounce on our feet it was cute and kittenish. Biting me, or especially my baby Bandit brings out the mama bear in me. That behavior will not be tolerated. So I've started popping him when I catch him biting. I abhor hitting an animal and it's something I never do. Positive Reinforcement is my mantra. But the cat is not responding to PR. So swatting it is.

We’ll see if my girl-cat-who-is-really-a-boy-cat-whose-name-(in polite society)-means-fatherless-cat-named-Spot lives through the end of this year.

This past year has been one of upheaval and change. Even though I've had to curtail some of my leisure time in order to travel to Houston frequently, I still get in an occasional game of cards or Bunko with several of my social groups. I'm thankful for great friends who keep me sane and talk me off the ledge from time to time, a job I truly enjoy and excell at, and FurKids who like to snuggle and sleep late.

My Life Line: One Challenge After Another--But The Best Is Yet To Be.

This post is part of ThinkKit by SmallBox.

January 1, 2016 prompt: "Pretend you're writing your autobiography.  Give us your first line, a first chapter, or even just an image.  What's the story of you.”

My Life Line:  One Challenge After Another--But The Best Is Yet To Be.

So I'm doing another challenge. It seems like that's the story of my life:  one challenge after another. Some have been fun.  Some have been educational. And some I have failed.

The first challenge was being born into a military family. Military Life was challenging. But it was also very rewarding. Even if we were only yo-yoed between the panhandles of Texas (my births state) and Florida (where my family lives now, and the state I claimed as home during most of my growing up years), I was still exposed to many more different cultures than my friends who grew up living in the same town as all their relatives. There are pros and cons to both.  Mama once said I had a hard life because of it. I think she was the one who had a hard life of it--she did all the packing, unpacking, and setting up house every 6 months to 2 years.

Another challenge--one faced by everyone: what to be when I grew up.  I graduated from college when I was 17 and I had a hard time seeing myself as anything other than a student. I went to a local junior college but I wasn't invested in learning. As a result I ended up on academic probation. Rather than go back, I decided to enter the workforce. By the time I realized I did not want a job in retail, waitressing, cleaning offices, mucking stalls, or working in a service station, and school might not be so bad, I was much older than the rest of my new classmates.  Because I had wasted  Mama and Daddy's money on the first year of college I was bound and determined not to ask them for money the second time around. Financing would be a challenge.

When I returned to school, the first class I took was a biology class overbooked with a gazillion fresh-faced freshmen. The instructor announced to the class that “most returning students after a certain age failed.” He had statistics to back up his claim. I failed the class. His prophecy seemed to come true.

When I finally got into another community college with an “open door” policy (failing GPAs and GED students were allowed), I knew I'd found the place for me. I worked two jobs and walked away with an Associates in Arts in Pre-Nursing with the plan to transfer to a local university to finish up with a Bachelor of Arts in Nursing. That was the plan.

But the university kept "losing" my application and supporting documents. After two missed deadlines I realized I was just a number to them. I started researching other schools and couldn't make up my mind--there were far too many to choose from. I ended up sending letters of interest to 66 schools.  I asked for four things:  information on tuition cost, housing, finical aide, and a school catalogue. I decided to automatically eliminate all schools that didn't send everything I requested. I finally settled on a school advertised as being “nestled in the foothills of the Alleghenies.” It sounded picturesque and it was affordable. It sounded perfect.

Until an offer came in from a school in New York.  They were even more affordable. And they had snow skiing.  Living in Florida most of my life (where it snows one morning every 3-4 years and melts before it turns grey and slushy) I remembered the Texas snow fondly and thought I might like to take up snow skiing. But I never had a real peace about the New York  school. It was part of a huge system and I could see myself getting lost in the crowd. Again.

Then one day the mailman brought a newspaper for a school I had knocked out of the running because they didn't send a catalogue.  I later found out it was a banner enrollment year for them and they were having to print more. I read that school newspaper from cover to cover. It sounded wonderful. The back page was the clincher--it was a letter from an International Student thanking the university for four years of being his Family away from home. A place where the instructors knew him by name. I'm a praying person and I prayed, "God, this is where I want to be--if this is where YOU want me to be, You're going to have to open some pretty big doors."  It was less than two weeks before school was supposed to start.

I had already missed most university deadlines for admissions. I called. They didn't have a deadline.

Most Nursing programs deadlines were long since past. I asked to be transferred to the Nursing Department. The Nursing Program also didn't have a deadline.

Most financial Aide offices needed the national application in order to figure out your financial aide package. I had turned in the information for schools that had sent me everything I requested--not to this school. The Financial Aide Officer talked with me about what the other schools cost and what the packages were that they offered and she compared those numbers to the cost of this school and What she said was, “the first year will be heavy on the loan and work-study side, but the remainder of your time will be much heavier on scholarships and grants.” That first semester took everything I had saved from my two jobs.

The day before I left Florida I still hadn't received an official acceptance letter, so I called the admissions office and asked which direction I should point my car:  New York or Texas?  They said, "Texas!"

When I arrived I found out a little known fact:  this Nursing School was one of the top 10 NCLEX performers in the nation and hospitals from all over wooed the students. My confirmation (if I needed more) that this was the place I needed to be.

Because it was a small school they only had one start time into the Nursing Program--in the summer that had just passed. But that was okay, because some of my credits didn't meet their requirements (I had planned on transferring into a program that required algebra--this one required statistics, the other program required one chemistry--this program required a different one, this private university required chapel each semester and two religion courses, the state school only required a humanities), so I fleshed out the new requirements with classes for a double major.

Because I came to school so late, I had no place to live that first semester except the dorm. I wasn't keen on that because I was several years older.  Then I met a couple of dorm students even older than me. I asked that they not give me a kid for a roommate. I received a straight out of high school roommate. However, she was also a nursing student and was studious. We, and a couple other friends looked at off campus housing and actually found something we could afford, with the intention of moving out of the dorm the next semester. They made it out. But I was offered a job at the Campus Health Center, that was even better than the RA jobs (room, board, and a stipend)--but the stipulation was I had to live on campus (my senior year I lived in the health center apartment so that was really nice).

All of that to say this:  at the ripe old age of 30 I finally graduated from college. Another challenge accomplished.

There have also been the challenges I've failed: NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) springs to mind--I've entered four or five times. I'm still not writing the same stalled novel. Then there was the year is entered NaNo AND a photo a day challenge, AND a blogging challenge. All held during the same month. I completed the photo and blogging challenges by cheating (making up days I missed).  And I once again failed NaNo.

So here I am starting another blogging challenge. During the last blogging challenge I resurrected my defunct blog. And realized (sort of) a post-blogging challenge goal:  to continue blogging at least 2-3 times each week. I say sort of because for the most part I've managed to do that. But I've not been really strict about it.

With this blogging challenge my personal goals are threefold:  to hone this craft; to embrace technology (resurrect my defunct Twitter account--actually learn how to tweet!); and increase my blog “readership.”  During the last blog challenge I actually got my first follower. A total stranger. After I got over being freaked out I was thrilled! And I noticed a few other people have me on their radar. When I say a few, I mean mayby 10-15. The number varies from post to post. They are anonymous. But my heart is happy when I see their number. And I fret when they take a while to return.

I wonder who they are. I hope they are friends or other bloggers....as long as they enjoy what I write from time to time and are not students looking for examples of what NOT to do with a blog I’m happy. (If that's who you are please tell me how to improve.)

Okay, this is totally off the topic I was going to blog for this first day. I really was going to write that my life line is “The best is yet to be.” That's the truth. My life, with its ups and downs continues to get better daily. Despite failed challenges. And I hope to continue to get better at this blogging thing. And by better I mean shorter and more interesting posts.

And maybe I'll improve at this storytelling thing...and tackle the stalled novel.

Thanks for reading!