Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
I made it
Remember this post?
The letter came in the mail on Saturday.
I was accepted into the next phase of the nursing program.
The letter kept mentioning things about my "test scores," but we all know that is code for "Kristin, you looked really hot that night and we are letting you into the program based on your fashion sense."
Just sayin'.
The letter came in the mail on Saturday.
I was accepted into the next phase of the nursing program.
The letter kept mentioning things about my "test scores," but we all know that is code for "Kristin, you looked really hot that night and we are letting you into the program based on your fashion sense."
Just sayin'.
Friday, November 13, 2009
blogger game
Sarah gave me these words...
Orange The California county of my birth. Where I resided for the majority of my life. Not entirely as it is portrayed on television, but still very conservative and full of itself. Orange County will never get past the fact that its on the other side of the freeway from south central Los Angeles. If the state of California was a family, then Orange County would be the uptight paternal aunt who believes that the rest of the family is godless and wayward and needs to get a clue.
Journey What I refer to as my life. At first I thought, "Well, duh, Kristin. Steve Perry. Journey. Oh Sherrie. Faithfully." But I know that you all probably get burnt on my music references. Life is a journey. I have yet to determine what it is that I am traveling toward, but I imagine I will figure that one out when I get there. In the meantime my objective is to be nice to people and laugh a lot on the way there.
Dry Seriously, Sarah? Dry? WTF? (Eye roll) Fine. (Sigh) When I think of dry, I think of the ten years I spent in the Mojave desert. I left southern California for Kern County (north of LA) in my 20's and lived there for approximately ten years. Walking out your front door on a summer's day was like getting bitch slapped by a gust of hot air straight out of your oven. Remember the movie Erin Brockovich? When she would be driving out to the desert to depose her legal clients? Yeah, that's kind of where I lived.
Organic I am a food snob and won't apologize for it. I would rather not eat than to eat something that is over processed, chemical ridden, or of an unknown origin. As a social worker in Kern County, I saw first hand the medical fallout of the migrant farm workers. The pesticides that these individuals were being exposed to were causing health conditions that were deadly. I spent countless days at UCLA Medical Center overseeing the case management of clients who were undergoing treatment for conditions that the doctors recognized as being caused by agricultural chemicals.
Beach I grew up on the beach. Our house was approximately five miles from the Huntington Pier. I grew up in a family of surfers. I recognize now how lucky I was to have access to some beautiful coastline and I miss the smell of the wood burning fire pits, salt air, and bait. I know, call me crazy. But there is something about fishing and all that surrounds that sport that is alluring to me. No matter where I live, I will always be a sandal wearing, "dude" saying, California girl from Huntington Beach.
Want to play? Request 5 words in the comment section and I will get them to you soon.
Orange The California county of my birth. Where I resided for the majority of my life. Not entirely as it is portrayed on television, but still very conservative and full of itself. Orange County will never get past the fact that its on the other side of the freeway from south central Los Angeles. If the state of California was a family, then Orange County would be the uptight paternal aunt who believes that the rest of the family is godless and wayward and needs to get a clue.
Journey What I refer to as my life. At first I thought, "Well, duh, Kristin. Steve Perry. Journey. Oh Sherrie. Faithfully." But I know that you all probably get burnt on my music references. Life is a journey. I have yet to determine what it is that I am traveling toward, but I imagine I will figure that one out when I get there. In the meantime my objective is to be nice to people and laugh a lot on the way there.
Dry Seriously, Sarah? Dry? WTF? (Eye roll) Fine. (Sigh) When I think of dry, I think of the ten years I spent in the Mojave desert. I left southern California for Kern County (north of LA) in my 20's and lived there for approximately ten years. Walking out your front door on a summer's day was like getting bitch slapped by a gust of hot air straight out of your oven. Remember the movie Erin Brockovich? When she would be driving out to the desert to depose her legal clients? Yeah, that's kind of where I lived.
Organic I am a food snob and won't apologize for it. I would rather not eat than to eat something that is over processed, chemical ridden, or of an unknown origin. As a social worker in Kern County, I saw first hand the medical fallout of the migrant farm workers. The pesticides that these individuals were being exposed to were causing health conditions that were deadly. I spent countless days at UCLA Medical Center overseeing the case management of clients who were undergoing treatment for conditions that the doctors recognized as being caused by agricultural chemicals.
Beach I grew up on the beach. Our house was approximately five miles from the Huntington Pier. I grew up in a family of surfers. I recognize now how lucky I was to have access to some beautiful coastline and I miss the smell of the wood burning fire pits, salt air, and bait. I know, call me crazy. But there is something about fishing and all that surrounds that sport that is alluring to me. No matter where I live, I will always be a sandal wearing, "dude" saying, California girl from Huntington Beach.
Want to play? Request 5 words in the comment section and I will get them to you soon.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
not holy
There once was a time when I thought being sober would mean that I would don my cap of Puritanical Goodness and belly up to the bar of all things holy. Sunday church services. Early morning gym workouts. Meditative strolls through my backyard garden as I prayed in solitude. Chanting! Prayer! Reflection! Service!
Dude, don't kid.
It's Sunday morning and the best I could pull off was a doughnut run with Billy Squire blaring and a quick pass by the video store to drop off vampire videos. I think the Methodists on Quarrier Street could smell a sinner even before I made it halfway home. At least I'm honest. That's virtuous, right?
Stroke me. Heh.
I'm SO not holy.
Dude, don't kid.
It's Sunday morning and the best I could pull off was a doughnut run with Billy Squire blaring and a quick pass by the video store to drop off vampire videos. I think the Methodists on Quarrier Street could smell a sinner even before I made it halfway home. At least I'm honest. That's virtuous, right?
Stroke me. Heh.
I'm SO not holy.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Sunday, October 25, 2009
gratitude shout-outs
....done Dr. Seuss-style.
- To G. for talking to me about M.P.
- To A.B.
- To S.S. for turning my day around.
- To M. and D. for coming all this way and being so generous.
- To G., S., J., and M. for not judging me.
- To J. and L. for telling me you love me.
- To C.A. and L.C. for keeping me employed.
- To S.H. for taking such good care of J. and L.
- To L.S. for referring your friends.
- To A.A. for my sobriety
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
I have made the decision that, apart from a 40th birthday trip to Peru or Marrakesh, I will also begin making plans for a celebration of my sobriety. Last year, Gabriella Moonlight and I took a day trip into Ohio to visit Dr. Bob's house in Akron. This year, I would like to kick it up a notch. I am setting my sights on the AA International Convention in San Antonio, Texas. Members of my home group in California had attended the 60th anniversary convention and returned home saying that it was a spiritual experience unlike any other.See you there.
Monday, October 19, 2009
trash day
Feel free to follow me on a post that goes nowhere. A meandering of mental nothingness that needs to be sorted through and tossed in the mental dumpster to free up more space in my head. This happens about once every six months. Sort of like defragmenting a hard drive. But not.
-And across the street from this guy: 
-Does everything taste better with Ranch Dressing?
-Contrary to popular opinion and what this blog might represent, I don't think about recovery related issues all day long. I have a life because of sobriety and I enjoy living it. I don't stand on a street corner with tambourine and Big Book in hand. Although that would be funny.
-I'm quite certain that in an alternate universe, I live next door to this man:
-And across the street from this guy:-Does everything taste better with Ranch Dressing?-I love eating at Mexican restaurants and yet hate listening to people chomp on tortilla chips
-There is someone at one of my meetings who is so funny that sometimes I go just to listen to them share.
-I crave seafood every day.
-I want scallops right now. RIGHT NOW.
-I went somewhere in a dream last night and I want to go back.
-I really do believe there is an 'i' in 'team.' I just think its really tiny and we can't see it.
-When I was a social worker, I once had a client go off on a ridiculous rant at me. I responded with, "You must have me mistaken for someone who cares." I kind of regret that, but not too much.
-I think people misinterpret my kindness as 'doormat.'
-Fall and winter is House of Blues season for me. There is no venue too far away for me.
-This weekend, my five year old went through a pack of gum in under two hours. She stood right in front of me and attempted to justify it with a straight face. She was so convincing that I almost bought it.
-The problem is not so much the quantity of gum but the fact that the gum somehow flies out of her mouth and ends up in bizarre places around the apartment.
-This kid is such a con artist that she triggers my inner addict.
-I'm leaving for a meeting right now.
-I'm walking there.
-Bye.
Friday, October 16, 2009
lucky prayers
I will kick this one off by saying I have the bestest blog friends EVER. If you don't believe me, then slide down to yesterday's post and read how many people wished me luck on a test that I firmly believe 3/4 of the city of Charleston showed up for. Don't believe me? Well, it's true. Remember the post where I told you that 400-500 people apply for this nursing program and only 40 get chosen? Yeah, well, I got an eyeful last night.
Now, see, if I was in charge of the selection committee, then I would be chosen based simply on how frigging cute I was dressed for the test. Seriously, people. The brown leather knee high boots I wore would have been an instant qualifier for entrance into the program. Not to mention the form fitting jeans and fitted, brown corduroy blazer. I would post a picture, but you know, with this blog being all anonymous and stuff....
So, half of Charleston shows up and apparently they are all math whizzes, because everybody finishes before me, while I am still laboring over why Juan would bother spending 33 1/3 % less for socks when he could just wear sandals year round. Word problems need to be outlawed. But as Gabi will back me up on, few in this community can put together a coherent sentence, so I'm thinking I might have an edge on language and writing. Just saying.
But the test is now over and the next step is to await the results coupled with a preliminary acceptance based on transcripts and work history. The whole acceptance system is based on points and apparently one gets points simply for being married or related to a hospital employee? Can you believe that? I should tell the director that "acceptance is the answer to all my problems today." Really, I should. I should tell her that the Big Book says that; so if she would just accept me into the nursing program, then everything will be perfect.
Again, just saying.
Now, see, if I was in charge of the selection committee, then I would be chosen based simply on how frigging cute I was dressed for the test. Seriously, people. The brown leather knee high boots I wore would have been an instant qualifier for entrance into the program. Not to mention the form fitting jeans and fitted, brown corduroy blazer. I would post a picture, but you know, with this blog being all anonymous and stuff....
So, half of Charleston shows up and apparently they are all math whizzes, because everybody finishes before me, while I am still laboring over why Juan would bother spending 33 1/3 % less for socks when he could just wear sandals year round. Word problems need to be outlawed. But as Gabi will back me up on, few in this community can put together a coherent sentence, so I'm thinking I might have an edge on language and writing. Just saying.
But the test is now over and the next step is to await the results coupled with a preliminary acceptance based on transcripts and work history. The whole acceptance system is based on points and apparently one gets points simply for being married or related to a hospital employee? Can you believe that? I should tell the director that "acceptance is the answer to all my problems today." Really, I should. I should tell her that the Big Book says that; so if she would just accept me into the nursing program, then everything will be perfect.
Again, just saying.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
