I'm not a "Christmas person". I don't much enjoy the music, or the trees, or the light displays. I don't at all enjoy the shopping or the nativity scenes. I especially don't enjoy the compartmentalized and superficial proclamations of peace and giving that seem like they're trying to make up for the rest of the year when we're all busy pushing our own agendas, jostling for position and status within a structure built on trampling others to get ahead. I could go on but...
All that being said, this time of year puts into particular focus for me the instances and ways in which I am given gifts during this season that transcend the perfunctory culture of the holidays. So I'm getting on board with Christmas in a small way that doesn't feel like sandpaper against my brain; I'm choosing to focus on a few bright spots.
1.) The man behind the counter at the gas station started telling me a story this week as I was checking out about how he recently visited Nova Scotia and as he was getting off the plane there was a large crowd of people gathered in the airport, including many airport employees and local political figures. A plane of Syrian refugees was just arriving from overseas and they were gathered to welcome them. As they got off the plane, a group of airport attendants were there waiting to guide them and carry their luggage. The crowd was cheering and singing. The man at the gas station told me how he hasn't been able to stop thinking about this, and how it was one of the most incredible sights he's ever seen. By the time I left that gas station with my gatorade and potato chips, we were both crying a little.
2.) Yesterday the kids and I waited in line in the cold outside a specialty candy store for an hour. Besides a few older women having stressful-sounding conversations on their cellphones, no one was talking much. The girls didn't seem to notice the glum mood though, and proceeded to giggle nonstop with each other for the entire hour. At most points it was unclear even to me what, exactly, was so funny, but they'd just look at each other and laugh, or make a face and laugh, or poke one another and laugh. An older man a bit ahead of us looked over at us after awhile and said seriously "They're making it really hard for me to maintain my bad mood. I'm really trying over here, but it's not working." Later as we were leaving the store (having found out they were out of what we came for) he followed us out and said "I have something for them. They made my day. Just getting to listen to them laugh for an hour was well worth the long wait in the cold. That really was the best part of my day." He gave them little cartons of boxed water with jingle bells on them. I told him "Well, they didn't even have what we came for, but being able to make your day makes me think my wait in line was worth it as well!"
3.) As a nurse, almost all of what I'd love to write about is protected by patient confidentiality guidelines, and with good reason. On a near-daily basis my patients bring me to my knees. Sometimes in frustration, sometimes in sadness, sometimes in sharing in their small victories. Each week brings something new. This week, for the first time, I held a patient's head to my chest as they cried. My professional boundaries usually tend to fall on the stricter side. In fact it was a year into being a nurse before I even gave a patient a hug. But this week, someone leaned into me as they cried, and I didn't hesitate to put my arms around them.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Friday, December 4, 2015
Fleas
Today I googled "fun facts about fleas". Google made a well-meaning attempt to redirect me towards more uplifting searches, such as "fun facts for kids" and "fun facts about michigan". Or perhaps google was genuinely confused, which I understand. Upon submitting my search criteria, the internet in general seemed to be confused. I got a plethora of results from pest control sites and flea killing product brands, as well as some pet health sites, but not one of them seemed excited or awed about the truly astounding flea facts they boasted. I, for one, really needed to find a site that was excited about fleas. Why? Because for the past three weeks my life and schedule has revolved around their eradication, and as my efforts bring little reward, I find myself feeling not only a bit defeated, but a bit hateful.
This morning as I was flea-combing my dog, a flea jumped off his ass straight onto my shoulder. I was sitting straight up, and my dog is not very big. That flea jumped a good 8 inches. Frankly, I'm not sure that I myself can jump 8 inches straight up. Maybe I can, but regardless of the answer, I'm setting myself up for some major disappointment if I am competing with a flea. Proportionally to size, there's no comparison. If humans could jump as high as fleas, I'd be able to jump 850 feet straight into the air. Just think about that for a moment, and tell me you don't think fleas deserve a webpage dedicated to giving their incredible skills the credit they deserve. Admittedly, that was not my first thought either when this flea jumped onto my shoulder, nor was it my thought later when I discovered a new flea bite on the base of my neck. In fact, my reaction was to grind my fist painfully into the general spot on my shoulder where I saw the flea heading towards. I chose to grind my fist into my shoulder rather than slap or brush my shoulder, because fleas are (and excuse my language, but you might as well get used to it) extremely hard little fuckers to kill. They have extremely strong exoskeletons which make them nearly impossible to squish to their death with anything softer than ceramic or steel. Seriously. Luckily, I have pretty strong nails. I've learned to greatly enjoy the sound and sensation of a flea's exoskeleton giving way between my thumbnail and the hard plastic edge of my flea comb. I would go as far as to say I truly love that moment. It's immensely satisfying in that way that only things you're slightly embarrassed to admit are satisfying.
Every day for three weeks we've been vacuuming the house. And I mean VACUUMING. Moving the couches, flipping up the mattresses (yes, we all sleep on mattresses on the floor, yes, we like it that way), getting behind all the furniture, using the hose to get in the crevices type vacuuming. Every. Damn. Day. That, and the daily 45 minute flea combing, and waking up with new flea bites, and spending a couple hundred dollars on what has proven to be essentially worthless flea treatments. So today, naturally, I needed someone to tell me some fun facts about fleas before I crossed over from self-preservation mode into I-hate-that-they-exist mode.
The results of my "fun facts about fleas" google search, however, left me wondering....do we even TRY not to hate? Do we stop to reflect on the natural order of things, even as we acknowledge our adversities? Can we learn to respectfully kill what we need to kill in order to maintain our sanity and health, while still respecting their alternate and yet identical survival goals? Have we so completely divorced the things which we admire and respect from those which we fight and kill that in our minds the two cannot exist in both categories at once? It's a tempting divide to make in our minds. Tempting enough that I couldn't think of any reason why the flea that jumped onto my shoulder and bit my neck today should have ever existed as a species on this earth. I was weary of flea-combing the dog, I was tired of itching, I was resentful that the time I look forward to spending with my kids when I'm home has been taken up with hours upon hours of vacuuming. Mostly, I just hated fleas. So despite that I couldn't find any flea fan sites on the internet, I did manage to find some pretty awe-inspiring facts about fleas:
- fleas can live more than 100 days without food
- a female flea can consume 15 times her own bodyweight in blood each day
- fleas can jump more than 200 times their length
- flea saliva dissolves skin, making it possible for them to feed on us
- fleas have been on planet earth for approximately 100 million years
- fleas can be frozen for up to a year and then revive themselves
- a flea can jump 30,000 times without stopping
- when a flea jumps, it accelerates 50 times faster than a space shuttle
-flea circuses were real things. If you are unfamiliar with the flea circus, you should look it up.
In closing, I think I accomplished my goal. Tomorrow I will get up and flea comb the dog, and as I squish those little beasts with my thumbnail I will have too much respect for their rather impeccably evolved survival tactics to waste my own time and energy hating them. Instead, maybe I'll be able to actually enjoy listening to a podcast as I double-kill them by making extra sure they're dead by drowning them in a cup of water. Hats off to you, you little fuckers, you'll probably be around long after us humans kill each other off....but in the meantime don't get any ideas about who's going to win the battle in my living room; I'm taking you DOWN.
This morning as I was flea-combing my dog, a flea jumped off his ass straight onto my shoulder. I was sitting straight up, and my dog is not very big. That flea jumped a good 8 inches. Frankly, I'm not sure that I myself can jump 8 inches straight up. Maybe I can, but regardless of the answer, I'm setting myself up for some major disappointment if I am competing with a flea. Proportionally to size, there's no comparison. If humans could jump as high as fleas, I'd be able to jump 850 feet straight into the air. Just think about that for a moment, and tell me you don't think fleas deserve a webpage dedicated to giving their incredible skills the credit they deserve. Admittedly, that was not my first thought either when this flea jumped onto my shoulder, nor was it my thought later when I discovered a new flea bite on the base of my neck. In fact, my reaction was to grind my fist painfully into the general spot on my shoulder where I saw the flea heading towards. I chose to grind my fist into my shoulder rather than slap or brush my shoulder, because fleas are (and excuse my language, but you might as well get used to it) extremely hard little fuckers to kill. They have extremely strong exoskeletons which make them nearly impossible to squish to their death with anything softer than ceramic or steel. Seriously. Luckily, I have pretty strong nails. I've learned to greatly enjoy the sound and sensation of a flea's exoskeleton giving way between my thumbnail and the hard plastic edge of my flea comb. I would go as far as to say I truly love that moment. It's immensely satisfying in that way that only things you're slightly embarrassed to admit are satisfying.
Every day for three weeks we've been vacuuming the house. And I mean VACUUMING. Moving the couches, flipping up the mattresses (yes, we all sleep on mattresses on the floor, yes, we like it that way), getting behind all the furniture, using the hose to get in the crevices type vacuuming. Every. Damn. Day. That, and the daily 45 minute flea combing, and waking up with new flea bites, and spending a couple hundred dollars on what has proven to be essentially worthless flea treatments. So today, naturally, I needed someone to tell me some fun facts about fleas before I crossed over from self-preservation mode into I-hate-that-they-exist mode.
The results of my "fun facts about fleas" google search, however, left me wondering....do we even TRY not to hate? Do we stop to reflect on the natural order of things, even as we acknowledge our adversities? Can we learn to respectfully kill what we need to kill in order to maintain our sanity and health, while still respecting their alternate and yet identical survival goals? Have we so completely divorced the things which we admire and respect from those which we fight and kill that in our minds the two cannot exist in both categories at once? It's a tempting divide to make in our minds. Tempting enough that I couldn't think of any reason why the flea that jumped onto my shoulder and bit my neck today should have ever existed as a species on this earth. I was weary of flea-combing the dog, I was tired of itching, I was resentful that the time I look forward to spending with my kids when I'm home has been taken up with hours upon hours of vacuuming. Mostly, I just hated fleas. So despite that I couldn't find any flea fan sites on the internet, I did manage to find some pretty awe-inspiring facts about fleas:
- fleas can live more than 100 days without food
- a female flea can consume 15 times her own bodyweight in blood each day
- fleas can jump more than 200 times their length
- flea saliva dissolves skin, making it possible for them to feed on us
- fleas have been on planet earth for approximately 100 million years
- fleas can be frozen for up to a year and then revive themselves
- a flea can jump 30,000 times without stopping
- when a flea jumps, it accelerates 50 times faster than a space shuttle
-flea circuses were real things. If you are unfamiliar with the flea circus, you should look it up.
In closing, I think I accomplished my goal. Tomorrow I will get up and flea comb the dog, and as I squish those little beasts with my thumbnail I will have too much respect for their rather impeccably evolved survival tactics to waste my own time and energy hating them. Instead, maybe I'll be able to actually enjoy listening to a podcast as I double-kill them by making extra sure they're dead by drowning them in a cup of water. Hats off to you, you little fuckers, you'll probably be around long after us humans kill each other off....but in the meantime don't get any ideas about who's going to win the battle in my living room; I'm taking you DOWN.
boats and houses
If I knew what I wanted this to be, I'd have created this a long time ago. But sometimes beginning to create things before we know what they will be is the only way to bring them into being. Children, for one, are a pretty universally understood example of this.
A framework rarely give you a very helpful picture of what a boat or house will look like, but it usually gives you a pretty good idea whether something is a boat or a house. Unfortunately for you, my boats usually turn into houses, and my houses usually turn into boats. So I'll spare you the confusion of a framework in this introduction, and just start sewing sails. Or putting up drywall. Or both.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)