I spend the morning with last minute pre-travel prep — no smelly laundry, no moldy dishes, make sure bills are paid, and then watch a hummingbird sit on one of my balcony ledge plants and look to and fro while waiting for his dining mates. Caleb will refill the feeder before we leave so they can continue to snack, flit about, and cause the tiniest stir that their rapid wingbeats and petite throats will allow.
art in the airport
Caleb is the most excited to leave that I’ve ever experienced. We get to the San Diego airport before noon and usually passengers aren’t allowed to drop off bags until three hours prior to boarding or lift-off, but the agent made an exception for us; especially since she was quick to print our three checked bag tags so the company could transfer our 90ish pounds of dive gear over 7.5 hours of flight time. We used Caleb’s airline miles to book, so we had to transfer through Denver and Houston to get to Belize.
books on display
We’ll walk to the USO for snacks before getting in the zigzagging line for security. From here, we appreciate the rotating art exhibits as we pass to use the United lounge for lunch (when traveling first class or internationally, etc. on Caleb’s membership level) which is mostly filled with people in suits talking about work, conferences, and some asshole that dropped the ball. We pass our time with cupcakes and crosswords. Caleb will let his pant legs unroll themselves as we leave the warm space to stretch our legs.
a view of the United lounge
As we walk past a gate I hear, “They’re just now deboarding.. I could’ve had another beer.. sigh.” We return to the lounge after finding a $50 on the ground. Caleb points out the guy smiling into his phone with his belt laid out on his stomach, similar to an ex-family member I shared a few meals with in Washington and Arizona, and I giggle. Then I wonder what the guy fiddling with the multiple locks on his carry-on could possibly have in there that’s so private. Caleb will bring us more snacks while we people watch and read, me having downloaded An Atlas of Extinct Countries for the flight.
our aircraft marshaller don’t step, step, he sits
I’ll also sit and think about how nice it would be if more people had access to comfier seats and fresher food (as I sit in this lush lounge), but that’s a political debate as airplane seat sizes seem to be in the news more creating heated discussions. Circumference is one topic, but people can’t choose their height and not all tall people can afford to buy more legroom. Though airlines also need to address the issue of multiple large carry-ons to avoid checked bag fees as they’re constantly having to ask for volunteers now for lack of space in overhead bins.
northeast into the sunset
One of the stories in my book was of Princess Margriet, born in Ottawa in a hospital marked as Netherland territory by the Canadian government so there’d be no issue with her as heir back home. She is currently 80 and 8th in line to the throne. We use Gate 41 to board Flight 541 and are the third passengers on board. I could get used to this type of travel. I post our first-class seats picture to Instagram and am soon formally greeted by last name for dinner, which doesn’t come in the usual easy-to-pack for later dish, so we’ll wrap the rest of Caleb’s burger in napkins.
Denver Airport at night
Dinner is bland, but the creamy, and peppery, balsamic dressing fixes that. We’ll listen to Enya, not because she is a best-selling Irish solo artist and second best musical act behind U2, but because she has a relaxing voice which provides a white noise against the din of crowds in public places. I’ll read while Caleb naps through the turbulence that leaves the seat belt sign on for most of the flight. We land in Denver at 11pm and walk a bit to find bottled water since the fountain tastes like dirt and we have five hours to wait.
*heads up — there are before, during, and after photos below
It seems I have a thing for patterns. June last year, less than two weeks from vacation, I went to my dermatologist to have a small (like three cooked quinoa) lump removed from between my skin and skull. It had been there a while, maybe a month or maybe a year, but had started to grow and I didn’t want it to protrude from my hair and cause a larger removal issue later. It took a few minutes and less stitches and I was back to work the next day. I later got my stitches removed and was clear to dive as our flight left that evening.
With this knowledge, I went to my new primary care manager aka doctor on March 31, and told him it would be a simple snip under the skin as last time, but he reminded me that my hand has way more going on — nerves, tendons, muscles, and little bones — and that I would need a hand specialist to address the issue. My first referral was to an orthopedic surgeon that only works on pregnant women. I had a hard time telling the corpsman aka nurse that I refused to bring a child into this world just to get my hand looked at and that’s why I needed a new referral; and that I wasn’t coming back in for more x-rays as I was sure my hand hadn’t changed in a week.
I get my new referral April 7 and am scheduled to see a new surgeon, who is only available on Wednesdays, so I’ll have to wait until May 10. It takes me longer to fill out more paperwork than it does for the two of us to agree to surgery because whatever is on the palm side of my knuckle gets pressed into the joint when I grab things and I don’t want it growing into my hand and becoming harder to remove in the future. I have to wait for my insurance to approve the process, which takes another week.
On top of this, my dentist and periodontist have agreed that it’s best that I get my teeth cleaned every four months, of which I pay for every other visit. I was ok with this as was Gentle Dental and Regents Dental who I visit for their more affordable services, but having moved I had switched to another Gentle Dental and they’ve started taking patients’ blood pressures (because they’re able to raise mine each time). I was supposed to have a cleaning on May 15, but they canceled an hour before because they wanted to do an exam as well.
They schedule my exam for Thursday and my cleaning for May 30, which just happens to be the same day as my surgery, but the timing should work. They call me back the next day to cancel my exam because I had one in February and my insurance only pays for one a year. So you can imagine my surprise and verbal upset at being subjected to a fucking exam 15 minutes late and then them wanting to schedule me for future visits, unbeknownst to them that this would be my last time in this office.
I walk into my surgeon’s office that’s 25 minutes from his other location. I check-in at 11am, fill out paperwork, and am brought back to change into a plastic bag aka medical gown with a hole for a hose attachment where more heat can be added to your personal sauna bed service. At least on the low heat setting it provides some air movement. I’ll fiddle with the ties on my gown for half an hour before I speak up and chat with the nurse to keep me company until the doctor arrives.
swelling above the line, initials approve the site, dots are where the cut will be made
He has brought in a tray and very sneakily, under the gloves, in it a three inch needle of the smallest gauge to ever pierce my skin, a 25G. He injects just below my initials and begins to fill my hand with numbing solution, to the point where my skin swells to accommodate all the cc’s. I’ve already asked if I can watch the procedure as I sit there and start to feel weird about the chickpea-size lump that has been turned into a tiny jell-o mold taking up a quarter of my palm. At this point, I realize my blood pressure is lower going into surgery than it was at the dentist’s office.
I’m wheeled into the operating room, with the machine that goes ping! (for people under anesthesia), and asked to sit up so a board can be put behind me. My first thought is that it will make it easier to watch, but then I remember the doctor wouldn’t ask me to hold my hand in the air while he cuts into it; I say as much out loud. Joining me in the room is the nurse in charge of vitals and covering me with a blanket again (I wiggle out from under it), the kind doctor willing to let me see and allow a second nurse to take pictures, and the third nurse who will help hold my hand open.
I wish they’d have let me take the pictures
Prior to the incision, my middle finger and half of the fingers on either side were numb. A tourniquet was applied to my forearm with medical-grade pressure — just enough to reduce the blood on scene and to put my arm to sleep after ten minutes. I was scheduled to have the room for 30 minutes but it only took 12 for the doctor to slice my skin, and pull it back like I do to get at mango flesh, hook out my tendon and relieve it of its passenger, before sewing me up with extra stitches to ensure I move my fingers and don’t let them get stiff.
I’m asked to give a thumbs up, with my palm out I go up and not out, for a laugh, so that my hand can be wrapped in gauze, cotton, and ace bandage. I’m wheeled out, get changed, and as I ask what to do with the bloody gauze that I held throughout the surgery from the prick of the numbing needle, the doctor asks if I know when I can go home. Funny enough, my answer was, “as soon as I pee.” It wasn’t medically necessary but I wasn’t going to make the 30 minutes drive home at 1pm without doing so.
Day 3, bloody gauze in the background
I asked if my hand was wrapped too tight, but the doctor is able to spread my fingers out so I’ll go home and sit with my hot and swollen fingers for hours while Caleb and I do crosswords together. I take some expired codeine before bed, but I’m always hesitant of taking too much so my hand will wake me at 2am and again with a spasm at sunrise. Caleb has waited to leave for work to make sure I survived the night as we didn’t sleep well.
I have fun over the next two days at work telling customers it was a different incident that caused my “broken wing” as one man called it. A co-worker asked if it was a shark bite (since I like to dive) and though there are species small enough to cause such minor damage they live too far below the surface for me to encounter them while still breathing. Bear was met with disbelief; one guy didn’t know what an ocelot was; badger and fence were met with silence. Another asked if I owned many snakes as he used to work in a pet shop.
Day 6, bruised palm with iodine evidence near fingers
I can change my bandage on day three and wash the dried blood from amongst the eight knots resting in a tiny sea of bruising. I’ll wrap it again for another three days and then let it air out at home for two nights before my follow-up appointment, which just so happens to be on the same day as another dentist appointment, but an actual cleaning that’s on time. I work for two hours and clock out. I’m expecting a short visit, but the doctor has patients in rooms (that I didn’t see go in there), and it’s his birthday, so on my way out, his wife and mom are showing up with treats.
The doctor unwrapped my hand, pushed my fingers straight, asked me to make a fist, and then rewrapped my hand that I would loosen when I returned to work an hour after leaving. I was scheduled to have the stitches removed, two horizontal mattress and six simple interrupted, a week later, but I called to cancel the appointment, figuring it was something Caleb and I could handle. Ah, were we in for a surprise? I had done my research, and we weren’t going to boil the tweezers for twenty minutes, but the internet said I could remove the mattress stitches first (to me, meaning a day early).
Day 14, all the stitches out
I got home after work on the 12th, no dinner yet, and we got the mattress stitch closest to my finger removed, but it required some digging to get into the cavern the doctor had made, so I got to cutting other stitches to release the skin that he had doubled up against the wound and released dried blood. We agreed it’s not the best stitch job we’ve seen and I’m glad this doctor wasn’t the guy putting my face back together, but once my hand was partially open I was done and we were both stressed out. I had removed five stitches and then put on a butterfly stitch, after tearing one to bits, to hold my palm together so it could relax and heal from the nylon trauma.
The next morning, I removed another stitch before work and the last two when I got home. The second mattress stitch had to be pulled all the way through because it was buried in my skin, and I luckily was able to snip under the knot, which left a dent. I have calluses from the stitches, but I also don’t have any hand-modeling plans for the future. I’m just looking forward to my hand being watertight in 48 hours, though I will still wear a waterproof bandage while diving, and regaining full use of my hand.
UPDATE:
June 16June 29October 24, 2024
Here is my hand, over 16 months after being cut into. Those are the tendons popping in my palm, which is perhaps a side effect of my excitement in getting to watch the procedure, making the doctor more zealous than he might have been with me asleep. But as with most things, I’ll take function over form.
January 1 – Caleb picks me up from a cruise ship where I’m wearing a bra and nonslip stockings. We pass a ray sanctuary and are allowed to feed them. A man rolls my ear, and I pass the test for him to use my ear and nose to play flute, which feels awesome. We leave there to explore more of Big Island, get passed by some people on horses, then we’re in the car again and come up to a snowy area, where it’s too late to see the covered barricade bars among the trees. We saw a car reversing and thought we could make it, so I’m apologizing to Caleb as I slow-mo fall into the snowy water below, as he somehow was able to hold on. I didn’t jump awake but slowly woke myself.
January 2 – A guy is coming down the hill in his wheelchair for the third time that day, and I stop him again, but this time I put his chair on its side until someone can unbuckle him. I carry him but let his legs hang for a change. We get back to the house and try a piece of candy we’re both expecting to be sweet, but it has a sour outside, and I laugh at his facial expression that probably matched mine. It can be boring and irritating to always see the world from one point of view, so it’s nice when that can change. It’s kind to try and see the world from other angles, as it makes others’ lives easier.
January 3 – I have a cast boot on my right foot, so while most of my group is eating ice cream, the line lets me cut so I can use Rentz’s large bank card for the cashier to enter manually. Also in his wallet are stencils, memories of childhood. I grab his jacket, hobble towards the full table, and find an exit door so I can eat outside after telling the guard lady that I’m in the wedding party. He’ll come outside too, only to tell me he’s torn his shirt hem, then start to run and use a skateboard that he expanded from somewhere. I yell after him that I can’t run in the boot. (Caleb said I yelled gross at some point.)
January 4 – I’m with Dan, but I’m helping clean up this woman’s garage. She has her friend offer them the hot side of a long double-barreled rifle. As I go to put something in her large pond, on the opposite, farthest side of where I should be, a giant fish, like a baby whale size, pops up and gives me the kiss of death, falls over and breaks the aquarium tank wall, spilling me, it, and all else onto this woman’s yard. It’s no wonder she didn’t want Dan and his other friend there anymore. She had tried to help him many times, but he did nothing for her.
January 5 – I get off the bus at Simmons’ or one of the Brandon’s houses and forgot to click out, so I come back and surprise Eric, (who gets a call from J. Terry as she speaks Spanish. I have to use the glass-walled bathroom upstairs, because downstairs is full of terds and paper,) by mimicking the guy blowing on fire on screen while dressed in a costume.
January 10 – I’m running to catch a train with Mom’s new husband and his teenage kids, just after their mom passed, and agree they can wait to call her mom.
A fly takes advantage of a bug stuck in a spider’s web after showing him some pictures, and the bug says they’re not compatible, so he lets him choke on it.
January 11 – I have an assignment, and some of the kids don’t want to listen to me. At one point, I yell, “You try not to be listened to, and see how it makes you feel!” We were looking at an old robe, and I found a single-string ukulele-like instrument that played a super high pitch at one point. I get back to the classroom, and the class is singing Jingle Bells like that will distract the professor. I go to the bathroom, and a girl tries to fold the glass door in half until I scream for the third time to please stop, and she finally relents.
A guy, who reminds me of Shane, shows me his eye color under his glass one, then drops it, flushes it, and tries to blame me. Caleb splashes loo water in Shane’s face and tries to fix the problem. Meanwhile, I move on to talking about baking with Dustin after getting the dust out of the pans.
January 12 – I thought I’d broken my right ulnar bone at the wrist, but I still tried to escape with a man and a cow that we rinsed some of the mud from. We try to misdirect whoever is following us, but they’ve beaten us to the end, so we’ll lock ourselves in a kitchen while the man offers a transfusion to keep the chef alive.
January 17 – I find Sparky at this mansion of a place and will take him with me, of course. Lil Rachel shows me the elevator and other fancy stuff. We stay the night after a day out in a new country, and I want to stay, but Frederick says we need to go. I’m so happy to meet up with Caleb later and show him how much weight Sparky has gained.
January 20 – Three guys from work at Auto have a dance off with three of the five members from a ’90s boy band.
January 23 – We stop to check out a historic house, Tiff and Eric beat me in there, but I’m asking someone else to help me find my phone. There’s a family that lives there with a rabbit and a kitten. They have mirrors that look like bubbled tint and white, mostly unlit, candles everywhere. The mom, Tiff’s aunt, is expecting more family, and these kids come in with their siblings in car seats while I’m doing pistol squats and trying to think of the 50 states because the mom told her son to list them before he could do something else.
January 25 – Tiff, Eric, and I find a time capsule of a place with lots of Mom’s things, like a mini pin map of some North America travels and cold beers in the freezer. Tiff was living with the parents in the bunkhouse with a handicap toilet installed.
February 4 – Sparky was there, trying to lick my face. Deanna was telling about me feeding rock stars candy as they walked down an aisle. Alejandra did not like my wet hand on her cheek. I’ve experienced love before, and I won’t lose it.
I go out to celebrate, and James from high school is talking down to this girl like a child, so I thought they were joking, but it was so she would be in proper uniform the next day. The staff brings us wrapped crackers, two drinks, and a bowl of cut-up hot dogs… wtf.
February 8 – I go out with the guys from work, a military job, and end up crashing on their couch. In the morning, I finish my drink and put my toe socks back on next to one of their girlfriends and say bye to their dog before leaving. One of the guys threw me a set of keys, and we’re trying to get out of the building before being seen by our boss. There’s a thick metal round staircase, and I’m able to catch a ride down to the elevator and make room for the guys behind me. On the elevator, a woman tries to complain to a higher-up, who says something to me about my drunk makeup and uses her finger to fix my mascara smudge. The lift stops, and this tall man with crutches gets on. Weirdly, I move to the other side to give space while the rest stay packed as a safety barrier so he doesn’t get tossed around in his bent-over position.
February 14 – We’re getting out of the car to go snorkeling, and I reach out to touch a sea turtle that bites me. It could’ve been worse, but my hand is ok, and we take off on a watery roadway to end up near some golfers. The first guy tells us the other side of the range is a good spot, but we’re not sure how to get there. We start to get lost in the village, and then I’m arguing with Tiff on which direction to go, and end up exploring a bathroom and finding orange cream lollipops in another room. Tiff wants to meet me back at the room, so I let her go, see a stretch of planes and a suitcase in a tree, museum-like. Then it’s suddenly too dark to see. I sit in the dirt to grab my phone light, and Deanna is asking me where I’m going as the room isn’t hers. I was gifted giant coral shell pieces on a necklace for holding my breath, and debated wearing it in the water.
February 15 – I’m visiting friends in England, and two guys get in a car duel of sorts. The guy in the back truck jumps into the other guy’s truck to pull him into the truck bed by his hair, and he falls past the tailgate as his long hair gets stuck in the wooden window planter shelf, as his truck goes into a shop. The neighborhood comes out to watch while one woman questions the guys together. I was eating chocolate, and my feet are sweaty. I’ll accidentally poke Jason S. in the eye, and as I giggle because we were just talking about people having their hands close but “I’m not touching you,” the girl next to me says, “I love you,” as in I love your humor and personality. I love you too.
February 27 – I’m in a fancy airport with a pre-teen, and I have to watch his mom make him cry. We look at fancy tables and grab some free cookies after he knocks them on the floor. I go to the bathroom and notice free soap and blankets. I am trying to choose, but there’s another woman in there pushing everything to the side as she tries to find something too.
March 17 – Two old ladies want to check my smelly suitcase as I leave the cafeteria. I was shoving rags in there to catch the soap or liquid that had leaked, but as they checked, my collection continued to change to more skulls, as one had said it smelled like death. I had said they could be playing Scrabble or somehow better enjoying their time, but soon grew curious as to what was happening and demanded answers. The skulls were collectibles, not dead animals.
March 26 – Three of J’s school friends are chasing Caleb and me down, first on their bikes, then we’re in cars. We open a gate to hide behind, but that doesn’t work either. We end up at one of the kids’ houses and see the daughter hug her dad a bunch. The mom offers Caleb food, a heavily loaded bean dip chip, that he eats. The dad shakes our hands and gives us a weird hug and ass grab after our conversation. We get back to the gate, and there are two vehicles on the property. A woman has called the police. I agree that we’ll wait and pay for any lawn damage.
March 30 – I hang out with both dogs, and though I give them treats, I realize they don’t need to eat. Piggy still pees on something. The class is let go for the holiday break. My coworkers assure me no overtime, so while some of them go to a lab, I’m leaving at two minutes before clock-out at 4 pm.
May 1 – We’re at an old store, and there’s an even older elevator you can try. I pass the two old ladies who seem scared, only to turn around myself after feeling like I’ve tried it before, and it just drops to the floor. I set off to find Caleb after remembering that with the time difference, we will now be late getting back, as if getting there at 2 am or close to it, and then going to work in a few hours was any better.
May 7 – I enjoy a nice swim and meet Grandma Karen on the beach. We make our way out to a diner on the water, away from the hotel room where Caleb is with the adjoining empty room and friends. Grandma’s friend is busy, but she insists that we wait. I’m starting to fall asleep, and I’m getting dry and not wanting to swim back in the dark. I try to send Caleb a message to let him know where I am. This guy asks what I do, and I tell him I sell barber supplies. Grandma says I’m looking to get into selling shoes, and he says he’d fuck a sexy biologist. I tell him I’m terrible at science, and he leaves.
May 15 – I’m chasing someone as I’m also being chased. I get stopped by the chaser, and as I’m running outside to jump the fence, I wake myself and Caleb with “What the fuck?!” The chaser wanted nothing to do with the group. I knew who was after them.
May 17 – I go outside for something with Cristal A., and she sees the tweezers in my hand as we try to run back. I think we’ve found our way, as I realize we’re near Melzer’s and ask a lady for a ride back to the main intersection. I apparently try to write this down on the first cordless home phone we had growing up and realize the battery is dead, so I “wake up” to Caleb shoving two blocks of cheese into his mouth. It looks uncomfortable, so I roll over so I don’t have to watch. (When I actually wake up, again, before 4 am, he’s taking a shower.)
May 21 – I was walking with Caleb, and he recognized a woman from a movie. He called down to her, but once we met up, he left for our room, and she wanted to show me something. She went from a white blonde to an Asian with a black bob, sitting next to her friend, same haircut, showing me the cameras of her space.
May 23 – I have to pee, so I ask for the bathroom in this massive place. I go to the room behind the dryer, as directed, but it’s small, humid, and there’s a trash can in the toilet/ashtray, and the toilet paper is gross. I think I’m sneaking upstairs, but someone else joins me. My visit is ruined because the butler, after I hit my head on a large wooden picture frame, thinks I’m too drunk to be on the second floor and insists I use another bathroom downstairs. I sneak into this girl’s room, but she doesn’t want me using hers either, so I have to climb over her crap to get out.
May 25 – I step into a python’s mouth to help a kid get out of its den.
May 29 – I’m late for my dentist appointment because I stopped for snacks, and Kristie is behind the bar. I put half a bagel on Mom’s leg because I can’t hear her. I missed my other appointment because I was helping Deanna with something, and this guy offered me a mini-puzzle if I picked one out, but I got distracted looking at other ones.
Since I was last on here in January, my job situation has changed, again, but this time the position is more permanent. I went to work my shift at Dollar Tree on February 8th, did my 7.5 hour shift, drove home, then texted my manager that I was returning to leave my key in her office as the schedule I wanted didn’t align with the schedule she needed me to work, so there was no point in trying to continue to leave one job early to make it to the other.
customers providing a laugh
This gave me more hours with Advance Auto, and my boss did her best to schedule me as much as my part-time position would allow, and some overtime as we worked to get the store I was hired for open. I had been offered a job at Pep Boys that would have given me more hours and more pay, but was turned down over a corporate agreement from the East Coast when Advance Auto bought out the retail side of Pep Boys – a non-compete upheld in a state that doesn’t enforce them.
this is not an example of rockstar parking
This left me bitter, that my higher paying job had to come with disgust and my minimum wage job obviously with disregard. I may not have been as active in the workforce as my peers over the years, but this was no surprise. Cogs in the wheel aren’t allowed to rest, because then they have time to think and be happy and do things differently. I spent my off-time filling out applications for a variety of places that offer customer service interactions until I got an interview.
I left on my lunch break on Saturday and let the owner at SD Barber Supply know that I only had 30 minutes to spare. She appreciated my honesty and offered that I come in for a trial shift to see if selling supplies to professional and amateur barbers would be a good fit for me, and so that I could get some training before the other sales associate left to pursue something else. I agreed to work 11a-5p on Wednesday and it went so well that I put in my two weeks notice with Advance Auto.
when the business next door is cleaning their floors
I was going to work out the rest of my shifts, but why should I work more hours for less money when given the opportunity to reverse those numbers, so I told Advance that I wouldn’t be showing up anymore. After two weeks, of working Tuesday through Saturday at my new job, my boss at Advance Auto asked that I bring in my shirts so she could complete my termination. She had kindly waited for my travel reimbursement to go through before starting it, so I wouldn’t lose out on pay due.
part of the recall for possibly damaged cans
It was on this day that I learned someone else was leaving, but keeping the opportunity to come back and work a shift when available, so I did the same, and kept my shirts. I could use the Monday off to write and spend time with myself, one of my favorite things to do, or I could come in and stand behind a counter while Caleb sits behind a desk. I get along with everyone I work with and having the new location be so much busier keeps me energized throughout the shift.
one of the regulars
These Mondays are only temporary though, as after two months I will be moved to a Monday through Friday schedule, and I’m not sure how long that will last but I’m enjoying having weekends and holidays back to spend time on things I enjoy, and I should keep it that way. My store is split in half, with me working the barber side, and currently having part-time help; and the tattoo side that also has a driver so that supplies can be delivered to shops and offer their artists a place to get their weekly needs.
I have learned about taper and faper blades, gel vs wax vs clay, texturizing powders and color enhancements. There’s a lot that goes into hair these days — designs with different tools, dyes, jewelry, and tons of products — and most of my customers are great, even when there’s a language barrier. There are those few though that feel the need to finger the gel, sniff the powder, splash the aftershave, and attempt to cut their hair at the counter to test the sharpness of the shears.
fancy stickers on repurposed packaging
I know some people look at my job hopping as indecisiveness or perhaps a freedom to explore and I would have to agree. I would also tell my younger self to look for employment that makes me happy, where my boss respects me, and where I’m treated properly as these three jobs with women managers have taught me. One couldn’t respect my schedule, but that’s not in her job description, and she didn’t treat me differently for it. Another didn’t want to lose my skills and work ethic, and I can’t blame her for that with the current employee pool she has to search through.
I do it for the view
These women have asked me to perform tasks, have been there to listen, and given everyone a fair chance after mistakes have been made. Looking at my former employers, of the male persuasion, that was not the case. This is still a problem the military faces, especially with more trans issues and mental illness cases, than training and manning can handle. I struggled with my chain of command after suffering a concussion and instead of them working with me, they pushed me away and out of service.
welcome in
Caleb has gone from turning wrenches in the oil-filled depths at the bottom of ships to filling out paperwork that used to be reserved for police officers because they no longer get paid to appear at crime scenes unless there’s a body of proof, as if all citizens are equipped with defensive weapons, breathalyzers, or blood test kits, though it seems we might all be prepared to lift fingerprints with items found around the house. Many prior crimes are now being dismissed, but I’m not trying to go off topic, though reading some of my earlier posts… it’s what I’m known for.
Anyway, props to Caleb for being able to manage a changing workforce as it’s being imposed from the government and civilian sectors. Twenty years is a long time, unless you live to be a three-hundred year old tree, and the only way to know what it’s like is to live through it. I can’t imagine having the same job for that long, but that’s probably because my parents and grandparents couldn’t do the same. We’re not afraid of commitment, but we appreciate the challenge that comes along with learning new things and the ability to leave when the situation changes.
Dreams about going places are always nice to wake up to. I’ll turn the water heater down again as the warmer weather makes the morning more inviting and the evening less painful – going from warm clothes to a cold bed. Caleb will make us breakfast, and then we will go on a two-mile morning walk before I go to work at San Diego Tattoo Supply on a Saturday.
I’ve only got to be there 9am – 3pm. Jacob, the tattoo artist from South Carolina, looking for a job, says he’ll fill out an application even though I tell him he won’t get hired. The owners prefer someone who is going to stick around, and they can’t pay artists’ rates. Caleb is preparing for a night of camping to see the Lyrid meteor shower when I get home.
We go to dinner at Thai Thai in Santee. I eat mango and sticky rice and get my spicy fried rice to-go. A family comes in and asks what the spiciest food is, just to order a 3 out of 10 on the heat scale. Restaurants like this are few, for our neighborhoods, and I’m grateful that for the last decade we have been less than ten miles from a papaya salad and a variety of curries.
With bellies full, we make the drive to Cibbets Flat Campgrounds, a place that gets surprisingly busy during the PCT hike season; something we hadn’t dealt with in our previous visits here. The park is packed with families, groups of friends, trail magic providers, and the thru-hikers for the night. We drove through once and parked in an empty spot; some sites have two, and we watched the carpenter ants crawl over pebbles and twigs that resembled stones and logs to them.
Caleb puts his feet in the cool stream that is rushing by. We know all the campsites are full, and we don’t qualify to camp in the large group, which will definitely take some getting used to when our time comes. We set up our chairs in the middle of the empty field between the sites and next to the vault toilets. In a whiny voice, we hear, “I need some tacos,” as a guy coming from the dusty trail sees the group of other hikers.
We nicknamed the guy Bitch Taco and I wondered what my trail name would be. Watching the sunset was easy, but dealing with the blinding headlamps, phone lights, and smoky to bright campfires that kept our eyes adjusting to the sky was too much to endure. Once Caleb has finished his hot cocoa, we move to the other end of the park and sit near the roadside.
We’re ok looking up for a bit, but when we realize we still have another hour before the meteors become noticeable and then the hour drive home, we decide to not stick around. There’s a part where the trail crosses the road, but there were already tents there. We’ve gotten so used to our solitude that the idea of hiking on a crowded trail, even for a day, was still in our future. I kill four mosquitoes and escape without a bite.
TheJessicaness 