Twas Brillig

A member of the bishopric called me in on Sunday morning, right before church was about to start.  Now, anyone who’s been in the church for more than a month knows that when the bishopric randomly call you in, it’s because you are about to be given an assignment.  I braced myself, knowing that they might stick me in nursery (two of my own children are in the nursery, so while I suppose it would be “fair” it would also mean that the two hours a week that I DON’T take care of them would be taken away from me).  Or maybe they would ask me to lead some music in one meeting or another— I’ve often had those callings and I enjoy them.   Or maybe I would FINALLY luck out and get that assignment to teach Sunday School.  That’s the one I’ve been pining for, and I’d heard that there were a couple of openings.

So when he said, “boy scouts,” I nearly had a heart attack.  My poor, pathetic life flashed before my eyes.  *cough*cough*cough* Excuse me?  Boy scouts?  REALLY?  Have you MET me?

When he asked me if I would accept the assignment, I said, “yes,” because that’s what I do— even though everything within me was screaming, “NO!  Please NO!  For the love of all that is holy, NOOOOOOOOOO!”

Brian was waiting out in the hallway, having whisked the kids off to their various church classes, eager to hear my news.  When I told him, he let out a stream of laughter.  Then when I told him I needed to buy myself a scout uniform and wear it to all the meetings, I thought he might burst a blood vessel in his face from the force of his guffawing.

Now, Brian’s an Eagle Scout, so he’s been through all these programs before.  Once he got his manic laughter under control, I asked him what exactly I needed to do— what was expected of me?  How hard was this really going to be?

Then he smiled and said, “I have ONE memory from Boy Scouts.  My scout leader was a woman about your age.”  Aww, he was going to share a heartwarming story with me!  Yay!  Maybe I really COULD make a difference!  He went on, “I remember one time, she bent over, and I could see STRAIGHT DOWN HER SHIRT!!!!”  He grinned the biggest school boy grin you can imagine.  I just stared at him, blinking.

That was it.  That was the one thing he remembered from scouts.

Note to self:  wear a high-necked T-shirt under my scout uniform.

“You’re a hard worker.  One of the best employees we’ve ever had.  With your knowledge, work ethic, and skill set, you will have no problem getting a job at another hospital.”

Kind as they are, these are not the words that a man who just uprooted his whole family and moved them to a new state wants to hear.  A man who just bought a new house, who just signed his kids up for ballet, swimming, and piano lessons.  A man whose family is finally out of limbo and settled for the first time in over a year.  A man whose “special needs” child is finally starting to get some help.

The program that he is implementing here, which they begged him to come and implement, takes about three years to get up and running.  That’s no secret.  And it’s worth it.  He can take a hospital from archaic to highly functional in three years and then he can maintain the processes and keep everything running smoothly.  Hospitals who don’t have a similar program are falling way behind the curve and won’t be able to catch up.  Unfortunately, he’s a computer geek working among non-computer people and while they want the program, they don’t understand that these things take time.  Apparently, even though they were informed of the time table from the beginning, they are getting antsy.  They want things up and running… NOW.

It’s been three months.

They’re ready to pull the funding and shut down the department all together.  But they haven’t… yet.  Right now they’re just threatening.  Constantly threatening.  And while Brian and team are making progress, they simply can’t shave two-and-a-half years off this three-year process.  He’s killing himself and receiving only criticism in return.  You can only imagine the pain and stress that this is causing him.

Brian puts in long hours and comes home tired and empty, like his life has been sucked out of him.  The sparkle and wit that define his personality are all but extinguished.  He’s too thin, too pale, too tired.  He can’t sleep, he hardly eats.  And he’s all but stopped talking to me— not because he’s mad at me or I at him, but because it would just be the same conversation every day.  Things aren’t going well.  I guess there’s really nothing left to say.

I don’t know how to help him, though I’m dying to.  I know how hard this is.  I know the immense pressure he’s under.  Four kids, one wife, a house, some cars, loads of medical bills.  He’s crumbling.

It’s so easy to glance behind, like Lot’s wife.  Brian left behind his dream job when he left Utah.  He loved the hospital system there.  He loved his coworkers.  He was working hard and having fun and loving every minute of it.  He was valued.  Adored.  It was a huge sacrifice for him when that powerful intangible something told us to leave.  But he knew it was the right thing, and he did it.  He did it for God, he did it for me, and, mostly, he did it for our son.

Sometimes, just because you do the right thing for all the right reasons, it doesn’t mean that everything magically works itself out.  Or, maybe, it does.  But things don’t always work out the way you thought they should.

Deep breaths.  Just keep taking deep breaths.   We know that this was where we are supposed to be.   We didn’t come on a whim.  Much prayer and soul-searching and research were done before we chose this job among the others that were being offered at the time.  We are going to be just fine.

But the “what-ifs” are constantly beckoning, begging for attention.  What if we’d stayed in Utah?  What if we’d chosen the job in Chicago?  What if…

This post is just BEGGING to be in list form.  So, here goes.

1.  So, the other day, as I was making my blogrounds, lo and behold, I stumbled on a post by my dear friend Ramblin’ Red of Ramblings of a Red-Headed Step-child who had, astonishingly enough, given me this award:

I guess that makes it official, folks! My blog? Is BRILLIANT! (Or brillante, but… whatever).  Because Red says so. Specifically, this post. Now, I suppose that the tradition with these things is that when one is awarded, one passes it on. Hmmmm, this is starting to sound an awful lot like a Meme— and I have made no secret about how I feel about Memes. I don’t like them. I don’t want to be tagged with them. I don’t want to tag other people with them. And yet… this one feels just a tiny bit more special. I mean, the word BRILLANTE was used!!! So, I’m going to pass it on. And I pass it on to my real life AND bloggy gal-pal Charrette for her post, “Lifetime Vigils.”  If you haven’t already, go over there and read it and you’ll see why I would give it such an award.

2.  My blogroll is officially UP AND RUNNING.  It’s complete, as far as I know, so please go and look at it and make sure that your link appears as you’d like it to (and that it works…).  If you’re not on my blogroll, it’s your own darn fault.   And what I mean by that is, just let me know and I’ll add you.  Go on.  Don’t be shy.  Someone recently described my blogroll as “Free Linking! It is like the 70’s era of free love, but in the blog world.  Thanks for the free love…”  Exactly, folks.  Free Bloglove.  That’s what I’m all about.  Of course… it never hurts if you… um… return the favor…

3.  Who here hasn’t heard of BloggersAnnex yet?

It’s this new site, dedicated to publishing the best of the best posts from Bloglandia.  The idea is that everyone who is the least bit inclined can join and then  can submit a post or two or ten thousand to be published.  But here’s the catch:  only one post makes the cut per day.  Hahaha.  Wicked, isn’t it.  This way, it’s an honor to be published there.  And also, readers always know that when they land on that site, there will ALWAYS be something worth reading.  AND GUESS WHAT!!!  The post that was chosen today? is ONE OF MINE!!!  So… I beg you.  Go over there and read my post.  It’s short.  And then comment there, so I don’t feel like an utter fool.  That would be awesome.  And then, read the other posts that have been published (there are only two or three others so far, all of which are far more brilliant than mine), and then join BloggersAnnex and submit YOUR stuff!  EVERYONE has something lurking in their archives that they’re just dying to repost and give more traffic to.  The more the merrier, right?

Okay, dudes.  A list of just 3 things.  Wow.  I really limited myself today.  Impressed, aren’t you!  Of course, they all have homework attached to them.

As for me, I’m off to go finish reading Breaking Dawn.  I’m a bit more than halfway done.  And this is all I have to say:  “RENESMEE?”  Are you frickin’ brackin’ KIDDING ME????  I’m pretty sure I’m stupider for having read just this much.  And yes, I’m going to go finish it. 

I KNEW I was better than just about everyone else!  I KNEW it!  And now you know it too.  Though, I realize that this WON’T be news to most of you.  I mean, OBVIOUSLY this would be my result:

(It does make me wonder, though, how smart people do on such a quiz.)

Thank GOODNESS I’ve managed to find a way to channel all that brilliance and get RICH.

Oh wait…

Interestingly enough, Hypatia is the only female of all time who was considered a “Universal Genius.”  (We know of more men who qualify— possibly because throughout history men were given more opportunities to display their intelligence, possibly because men simply tend to do better in tests of logic.  But I’m SO NOT GETTING myself into THAT debate!)  I’m pretty sure that I, um, don’t exactly measure up to Hypatia’s genius.  Or, you know, even the brilliance of most of my acquaintances.  Still, I can tell people that some silly internet quiz says that I’m a Universal Genius, and therefore I MUST be!  Because silly internet quizzes DO NOT LIE!

Also, in a somewhat related vein, there’s a part in Becoming Jane where Tom LeFroy tells Jane Austen, “I think that you consider yourself a cut above the company— secretly.”  This, of course, is on the heels of her announcing to her friends that she considers him to be pompous and arrogant.  The line (in fact, the whole story) is not historically accurate— we have no reason to believe that he said anything like that to her.  Still, I found it intriguing.

I was talking with my dear bloggy friend Jenn in Holland a while back and we were discussing how we have both felt, for much of our lives, like we were the fish out of water.  Not in a dibilitating or alienating way or anything morbid like that.  Just that we were… a little different from the rest of the crowd.  Whether we were at Church, school, society in general, we just felt a little bit different.  But the more people I talk to, the more I hear this story.  It got me thinking that perhaps EVERYONE feels like a fish out of water.  Does anyone ever actually feel like they fit in?  Like they are one of the crowd?  Like they belong?

And, even more interesting, do you think that you’re not just “not a part of the group,” but better than the group?  I’ve been contemplating this for some time, and I decided that it was time to poll Teh Internets.  Remember that with my polls, your answers are completely confidential— I have NO WAY of knowing who voted how.  So… be honest!

Online Surveys & Market Research

And by “better,” I mean any of the following: smarter (like me and my Universal Genius-ness), more moral, more righteous, more interesting, richer, better dressed, better coiffed, more experienced, more successful, better with money, funnier, prettier, deeper, more charismatic, more charming, or any other thing that YOU think makes YOU better than others.

Polls close tomorrow at midnight (Mountain Time). We’ll continue the discussion after the poll results (and your comments) are in!

My husband is of the opinion that my blog is a combination of utter nonsense mixed in with a never-ending whine-fest.  Seriously.  He tells me this the other night, much to my chagrin!  Of course, we have to admit that my husband never actually READS my blog (except when I force him to— usually at gun-point…) but still, I got to thinking about it.  Is it nonsense?  Then I got to thinking, what if I were to write nonsense on purpose?  Would my friends still comment?  Would strangers comment?  And if so, what would they say?

And so, yesterday’s post was born.  In 30 seconds, a few sentences of nonsense rushed from my fingertips.  Easiest blog post I ever wrote!

And what happened?  How did the experiment go?

Well, some of you (possibly to your horror) thought that I was serious— that this was really part of a book that I was writing.  You were very encouraging…  but I now know to NEVER trust your comments about something I’ve written.  Hahahaha.

I loved how Heffalump continued the story for me.  That was awesome, girl!  Haha.  We should collaborate on nonsense together more often!

Then there were the more daring of you— those of you who, in your own words, basically said, “what in the crap what that?”  You, especially Holly (whose comment KILLED me), get a sticker for being so honest.

There was only a handful of comments all together— 15 at last count.  Not a slap in the face, exactly, but certainly not a “successful” post.  And no strangers, only dedicated friends.  Hahaha.  You ladies are the best.

Anyway, this was fun.  That’s all it was really supposed to be.  Thanks for playing along.

It did, however, cause me to ponder the idea of an Austenian/Dickinsian parody— something I’d never really considered until I read some of your comments yesterday.  What do you think?  I’m considering two ideas— either starting a new blog, or going for the gusto and writing a book.  It’s NOT the sort of book I’m supposed to be writing right now and I really should wait until I finish (read: re-start) the book I’m working on right now.  But… I think it has potential…

By the way, when I told Brian what I’d done yesterday, he rolled his eyes and said, “has it REALLY come to that?  You have nothing to say and so you write nonsense on PURPOSE?”  At which point, I patted him on the head and told him how sorry I am that he doesn’t have any friends.

Fortunately for Jane, Lady Violet had already had a chance to throw the dart and did not wish for another opportunity, and so it was Miss Limpleton’s turn.  Ready, aim…

Just then, Heinrich Hendrickson announced that there was a fire in the wine cellar and that everyone would need to evacuate.

Alas, the dart had already left the soft, supple hand of Miss Limpleton.  As if in slow- motion, every head in the room turned to watch the dart glide gracefully through the air and plunge itself into the buttox of Lord Branleigh.

A gasp was audible all the way to London.

But Jane smiled inwardly, knowing that now, finally, her engagement to William Fitzknicker would be made public.

This is my jaw, fully dropped to the floor:

According to Michael Savage (who obviously isn’t one of my favorite people ANYWAY), a child with autism is “a brat who hasn’t been told to cut the act out.” Autism is a result of bad parenting.  And Savage’s cure for autism is for the child’s father to say, “stop acting like a putz.  Straighten up.  Act like a man.  Don’t sit there crying and screaming, idiot.”  Or, my personal favorite, “don’t act like a girl.”

So… if my husband and I would just punish Isaac every time he starts whacking his head against the wall, then he’d be well. Or if we’d just told him to “act like a man” he would have been able to walk when other children his age walked. And if we would just yell at Isaac and call him an idiot, he would suddenly be able to speak.

Brilliant.

Savage has been given a thousand opportunities to clarify what he said and to take it back, but he won’t. He stands by his words. (See the NY Times article here).

Someone tell me WHY this man still has a job?

What was perhaps equally disturbing for me when I heard about this and then researched it were all the comments I see all over the place by equally horrid people saying things like, “whew! It’s about TIME someone told the truth about autism.” And “Go Savage.” And “anyone with an autistic child just needs to take a PARENTING CLASS.”

Wow.

I don’t think that there’s a more sweet, vulnerable, easy-to-target group of people in the world than autistic children.

Also, I don’t think there’s a group of more scared, confused, and guilt-ridden (not because it’s their fault AT ALL, but because mothers tend to feel guilt, especially when something is wrong with a child) people than parents of autistic children.

It must make Savage and Friends feel SOOO good about themselves to have found someone to pick on…

Many of you have noticed (and mentioned) that the little tab up at the top of my page here that says “Blogroll” is pretty much empty.  Non-existent.  I have no blogroll.

But now that I’m in a new place and I’m kinda starting up this bloggy thing again, it’s probably time I do it right.  And put in a blogroll.  A real blogroll that’s really representative of what I read and who reads me.

This is where you come in.  See…  I’m planning to cheat.  Yup.  I’m a cheater-cheater-pumpkin-eater.  Rather than devouring through past comments here and blog-hopping and all the stuff that’s USUALLY involved in creating a comprehensive blogroll, I’m going to just ask you to leave me a comment with your link.  Now… those of you who have been around since way back in my blogspot days will have an automatic link if you were linked up there.  (To peruse that ancient, way out-of-date blogroll, click here.)

Now don’t be shy.  You want a link?  Just ask for it.  If you don’t ask for it (and you weren’t on that above-mentioned blogroll) then chances are very good that you won’t get a link.  Because I’m just not that organized.

So, to lighten the mood around here, I’m throwing in an encore of what was quite possibly my favorite post from my old blog.  That’s right, folks.  Prepare yourselves for “I Think I’ll Link You.”  I’m channeling David Cassidy now… And you KNOW how I love me some David Cassidy!

Hahahahahahahahaha

The following song is based on, nay, INSPIRED by David Cassidy’s “I Think I Love You.”

I THINK I’LL LINK YOU
(Dedicated to my blogroll-in-progress…)

Blog, blog, blog, blog,
Blog-blog, blog, blog, blog,
Blog, blog-blog, blog, blooooooggggg

I’m blogging
And right in the middle of a good post
Like all at once I read up
On someone that leaves comments on my site.
With all my heart and might I set my fingers on the keys,
I’ll try not to feel the squeeze
As I type out words like these:
“I think I’ll link you!”

This blogroll
Is getting long and lengthy
I didn’t know how to deal with
And so I just decided to myself
I’d put limits on myself and never link another
And didn’t I go and write it
When I typed your URL.
“I think I’ll link you!”

I think I’ll link you.
So what am I so afraid of?
I’m afraid that I’m not sure of
A blogroll there’s no room for.

I think I’ll link you.
Isn’t that what blogs are made of?
Though it worries me to see
That you haven’t yet linked me!

I don’t know where to comment next.
I don’t know who to learn about.
I got so much to blog about.

Hey!!!!!!!

I think I’ll link you.
So what am I so afraid of?
I’m afraid that I’m not sure of
A blogroll there’s no room for.

I think I’ll link you.
Isn’t that what blogs are made of?
Though it worries me to see
You haven’t yet linked me!

Believe me,
You really don’t have to tag me.
I only want to read your MEME
And if you say,
“Hey, go away,” I will, but I think better still
I’d better comment and not lurk you.
Will you offer me some hope?
Of getting linked on your blogroll?
Do you think you’ll link me?

I think I’ll link you.
Oh, I think I’ll link you.
Oh, I think I’ll link you.
Oh, I think I’ll link you.
Oh, I think I’ll link you.
Oh, I think I’ll link you.
Oh, I think I’ll link you.
Oh, I think I’ll link you.
Oh, I think I’ll link you.

Today, I turn 30.  I’m not a kid anymore.  No, in fact, I’m a big fat old lady.  Sigh.  I guess I’ll just roll over and die.  No— wait.  I’ll roll over and die TOMORROW, after I’ve opened my presents, spent my birthday money, and eaten ALL THE CAKE.

At the end of my mission, just before I turned 21, the Elders were making bets that I’d be married by age 22.  I vowed that I would NOT get married until I was thirty.

Hahaha.  And 8 years and 4 children later…

30!  That’s huge!  There are several people who will truly be shocked that I’ve managed to stay alive this long!

So Happy Birthday to MEEEEEE!!!!  Yippeeeee!  Thirty is gonna be a good year.  I can feel it in my old, decrepit, aged, osteoperosis-ed bones.