• Things I Should Warn You About

shenrydafrankmann

~ Hopeful honesty from simple sentences

shenrydafrankmann

Monthly Archives: October 2013

Snail Trails

25 Friday Oct 2013

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

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DirectTV, life, sales, unprofessional experience

(before I begin, GO CARDINALS — the Wacha Win last night was sweet to watch)

The coffee is slowly beginning to move through my veins right now like a shot through an IV.  This is one of those mornings usually experienced on a Saturday, my head ready to burst from the strain of the work week, my body beginning to relax and the poisons leaving my system, a hangover of sorts.  If the coffee does not do its magic, then this is going to be a long work day, one spent wading through the fog looming inside my brain.  There are several large tasks waiting for me, expedited by customers who waited too long to perform the task of asking me for what they need from me.

Of course, the nail in my head could be a result of my being a buzz saw last night.  Lately I have been snoring so much that Miriam has mentioned it to me as I pass her sleeping on the couch on my way out the door.  She mentions that I was so loud that she couldn’t come up to bed.  Her excuse is legit but weak since she rarely sleeps in the same bed with me any way, a blessing of sorts because it gives me free range of our bed, opportunity to spread out and really own the real estate.  Ahhhhhhh.

My quest as of late has been to solve the internet woe in our household.  There are few options besides Comcast in the area I live in, ironic to me since I live in the Chicago suburbs.  Shouldn’t EVERYTHING be ready at my beckon call?  A few years ago, I subscribed to Clear internet and phone, a wireless internet brought in through an antenna/modem set in my window sill.  The service is reasonably priced and has been very good up to around August, although a lot of the summer is was bad due to interference from our air conditioning unit.  Since August, internet is either unavailable or dial up slow, non-existent if more than one device is taking up bandwidth in our house.  Since we don’t have cable TV, we watch a lot of Netflix, so sometimes it has been pretty frustrating if one is tired and just wants to chill with an episode of Breaking Bad.  All that considered, I have been trying to find another internet provider.

The TV and internet business far outdistances the car sales business or anything else when it comes to the sleaze race.

Providers have been narrowed down to two choices, besides the one I currently use, mainly by their ability to provide internet service to the area I live in.  Oh, there are the expensive satellite providers, but I am on a PT Cruiser budget.  My choices are narrowed down to biting the bullet and subscribing to a TV provider like DirectTV or Comcast.  Since I have had customer service issues with Comcast, I am trying to make Comcast my last choice.  It’s probably my best choice, however.

So I called DirectTV last Tuesday evening, asked for a quote for internet service.  From the moment I answered the phone I was amazed at how unprofessional the environment was, the sales person on the line powerless and uninformed, toiling in what sounded like a large room of people on phones.  I imagined her sitting at a table much like someone at a telethon.  She was pleasant but tied to a system designed to suck the blood out of a potential customer, the leech method of sales that attaches to a host and won’t let go, seeking to remove everything useful from its victim, a parasite that exists for itself and nothing else.  I was told that I could not get an internet quote unless I placed an order with DirectTV.  Once I placed that order, I would be directed to a bundle specialist who could make the internet order.

I hesitated.  No way did I want to make a commitment.  All I wanted was a price, something I could use to make my decision.  Not only that but most providers were giving me the “we’re sorry but we can’t provide service to your address”, so I wanted to find out if I would get the same story from DirectTV.  But I placed the order with a promise that all I had to do was call DirectTV to cancel said order.  I still hesitated but did it, the person on the line soothing me with promises that cancelling was going to be a non issue.  Order placed, I talked to the internet person, who told me that dish internet was not conducive to playing first person type of internet games through PS3 or Xbox or WII.  Uh oh.  It’s not that big of deal to me, but it would be to my son.  Of course, I was also hesitating because I knew my son would be addicted to TV once we got television service.  We have one TV.  I would never get to watch TV because a fourteen year old male would be controlling the TV.  So would a 17 year old and 51 year old female.

So I placed the order with the understanding that I could easily cancel.

This blog is getting long, so I will condense the rest of this story.  Let’s just say that cancelling was not so easy.  The person I tried to talk to with my cancel request was less professional and even more clueless than the original sales person, even more of a blood sucking leech.  After this experience, used car salesmen are going to seem like Jesus Christ.  I could write a whole blog just about that phone call.  I don’t know how I remained calm, but I did, the person on the phone treating me like I was a terrorist when I became tired of the tap dance and said “Listen, I don’t want to answer a bunch of questions, I just want to cancel an order that I was told would be a simple process.”.  It was said firmly but quietly, but the person dropped her phone and walked to the other side of the room.  I could hear her complaining to her supervisor about me, the supervisor returning to the phone for the rest of the call.

Such a scam.  I found myself thinking that I was glad I was getting away from such an unprofessional outfit.  There must be a trail of scum leading to and from their sales offices.  Terrible.

Aside

24 Thursday Oct 2013

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St. Louis Cardinals

Four World Series appearances in a ten year time frame.  In the last three years, the St. Louis Cardinals have appeared in the World Series twice, narrowly missed playing the Series last year.  As a sports fan, a baseball fan, I could not be more happy.  My team really does not need to bring home a Series championship this year, although I will be ecstatic if they do.  I feel like a winner just being associated with the Cardinals as a fan. 

I also enjoy having a reason to be smugly annoying.  Friends and haters have accused Cardinal fans of being the Midwestern equivalent to Yankee fans, the bring-a-dish-to-pass -Sunday-go-to-meeting version.  Many express their distaste for “The Cardinal Way”, dismissing the notion that the Cardinals win because of the way they and their fans approach the game.  They also find Cardinal fans because of sentiments like I expressed in my first paragraph of this blog.

They are all jealous.  All, every one of those who dismiss the Cardinal Way and resent our annoying celebrations, would love to be in our shoes.  It’s OK.  Like I said, I enjoy having a reason to be smugly annoying.

Cardinal fans expect to win.  We have no reason to expect anything different from a team, an organization, that has given us otherwise.  Our swagger is deserved.  Yet, our swagger is not like the typical swagger.  Cardinal fans have a realistic humility, much like the team they support, that also makes fans of other teams admit their appreciation.  My friends dread seeing that goofy smile I get when my team has won, but they also like me for it.

I love baseball.  I bleed Cardinal red.  Baseball is one of my favorite topics of conversation and some of my best friends are baseball fans.

Go Cardinals!

 

Quote

I am convinced …

23 Wednesday Oct 2013

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marriage, snoring, toots

I am convinced that many men start snoring when they are older because it’s nature’s way to provide camouflage for bedcover blasts.

Author Withheld Because He May Be Me

Let’s Just Take It One Weekend At A Time

14 Monday Oct 2013

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healing, marching band parent, mountain biking, october baseball, personal time, walking dead fan, weekends

I am a bit bummed.  The Walking Dead season four premier is tonight and I have to wait until the episode is available on the WD Youtube channel.  Poop.  And I say ‘poop’ again.

It’s been one of those weekends where I don’t know what word to describe how it has felt.  ‘Alone’ might be one word if only because a lot of it has been spent by myself.  That is not necessarily a negative thing, the quiet and freedom to just do my own thing a real tonic for my soul.  ‘Discovery’ might be another because, well, there has been a bit of that.

OMG — Dustin Pedroia just made one of the most awesome defensive plays I have seen in a while.  I love love love love love love LOVE seeing baseball in October, the passion for the game demonstrated by guys pumped with dreams of winning a World Series.  The pure delight of an all out dive and throw falls in that ‘this is what makes life special’ category for me.  Shallow?  Maybe.  I can feel the satisfaction inside still and the inning is now over.  It doesn’t hurt that MY CARDINALS are on another World Series hunt and playing like they really want it right now.  I listened to them win as the sandman visited me on Friday night, the game ringing in my ears from my iPod on my nightstand.  Yesterday, my brother and I watched the game while we sipped Woodchuck hard cider, played catch with his adorable three year son Tyler, snacked on the guacamole Paul made with his wife (soooo good), and enjoyed the scent of the marinated chicken fajitas he was cooking on his grill.  Sublime, especially as we relaxed in the glow of another Cardinal win while playing Candyland with a delighted blonde haired, wide eyed three year old boy.  Tyler brought tears to our eyes as he climbed the stairs at bedtime and told me “Un-cole Steve, I love you”.  Unabashed three year appreciation for an uncle who was able to give his nephew undivided attention is what it was.  I’ll take it.

I drove two hours south to Bloomington, Illinois by myself, without my wife or son, to meet my brother, his wife Melissa, and their boy so we could watch my daughter perform as drum major with her high school marching band at the state competition.  Friday night I watched her perform with the band at halftime of the high school football game, her last as a high school senior.  Miriam and I accompanied her in front of the crowd before the game as the seniors from the marching band, football team, cheerleaders, and dance team were honored.  Earlier in the day, Miriam texted me and told me it might be best if I went to the Saturday band competition by myself.  I didn’t question it.  As she said in the text, I knew the time by myself would be welcome.  I have been that way a lot lately.  Conflict has been rampant in our house, our relationship rocky, so I did not mind the idea being in a car by myself.

It did feel very strange visiting my brother all by my lonesome, without my wife or family.  I got the idea they thought maybe this was a sign of things to come.  To be frank, it felt that way for me too.  All afternoon and evening, we kind of danced around the possible pain I might be feeling, at least the relational kind, something I just did not feel like dropping on my brother and his wife.  My goal for the visit was simple — enjoy my time with them.  They are aware of my struggles and I could feel their pity through the way they looked at me, their expressions a little too concerned at times.

I also was able to travel on my own schedule, which meant I find mountain bike trails close to Bloomington, literally minutes from my brother’s house, and tested my body by riding for ninety minutes.  My gut complained a bit, but not too much, and I really enjoyed the riding.  Hopeful for another chance to ride this weekend, I left my mountain bike in the back of my car over night.  That paid off, my afternoon cleared up after I drove Nate out west for an overnight with friends, my day suddenly clear as the 70 degrees and clear blue sky.  Two hours later and after sharing the ride with a friend I met on the trail, a guy close to my age enjoying his first ride at Saw Wee Kee park, thankful to meet someone who knew the trails.  He’s a motocross rider and offered to let me use his spare bike with him some time, an offer I might just accept.  Brian, my new friend, is also a committed Christian and seems to be someone who could provide a good influence for me.  You never know who you will meet on a mountain bike, especially since I will talk to practically anyone, plus the mountain bike crowd is one of the least pretentious class of people I have ever been involved with.

There has been drama in my household, bringing on more stress, this time last Wednesday night.  It started with my son, continued as my wife once again showed her stellar support for me by telling our son “you can’t talk to dad when he is like that”, a lack of spousal support that I found to be totally uncalled for since dad wasn’t “like that”.  He was in the middle of one of those my no means no discussions with his son, one she doesn’t agree with since everything must involve negotiation with her.  I expressed my displeasure by telling her what I expected from her — and that was to support me instead of defending our son by telling him that he was wrong, that he must accept my no and immediately stop his argument.  It didn’t work.  I had to resort to yelling, something I do but don’t like to do, but seems like the only way to get my two challenges to pay attention, to realize I am serious.  At one point, I told her she was stupid for not supporting me.  I also said that my only choice might be to leave if both do not change their behavior immediately.

A friend advised me that I should not go without talking the situation over with Miriam.  My friend was right.  Actually more than one friend told me that.  So I asked her to go to breakfast Saturday morning.  We talked.  We fought.

And here is really where the word ‘Discovery’ comes in for the weekend, although I discovered that my body still likes me and that I can survive time by myself.  But what I really discovered is that my wife is never going to support me the way I need her to.  She does not want to, will not do it since she does not respect me and does not like the way I approach her or my son, does not agree with me.  It has to be her way, won’t try to see the logic even in a little bit of what I say.  I know where I stand with her.

And there is my weekend.

Whir

09 Wednesday Oct 2013

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anxiety, ct scan, God, health, life, stomach, worry

English: Gallstones from gall bladder Polski: ...

English: Gallstones from gall bladder Polski: Kamienie z pęcherzyka żółciowego (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Whir.  Hum.

Comforting sounds in different circumstances, not too loud, a pleasantness that on a typical day would have me fighting the sandman for consciousness.  A glance up at the inch wide, six inch long window facing me revealed a glowing orange light, the mechanism inside the tube above me turning quickly behind the window.  Next to the window was a sticker warning me to avoid looking directly inside the window at the laser radiation inside.  My right hand sensed the cold metal of the machine under my palm, placed there a few moments ago when the female technician had instructed me to do so.  Sharp warmth coursed down my arm from an IV, moving along to my mouth, down the other side of my body to my groin, just as I was told would happen.  Confirming the information I had received a few minutes earlier, that warmth turned to a burning sensation not quite like anything I had felt before.  I concentrated on the faint vanilla taste of the thick white smoothie I had drank during the previous hour, the taste mingling with the burning sensation in my mouth.

There is a serenity that filled my mind as I lay inside that machine, strange in that I knew it was taking photos of my innards, scanning to help the doctors figure out what is going on to make me feel the constant nausea.  A few hours before my doctor had announced that what the hospital had told me last Thursday is false.  There is nothing wrong with my gall bladder even though there are stones inside said organ.  Everyone has them there or at least most do.  My body shows no signs of distress and vital signs are strong.  Doc Gary was concerned that it could be something else, so he did not want to waste time, sent me to the lab to have blood drawn for tests, then to the hospital for a CT scan.  That was fine.  I just want to find out what is wrong, do what I need to do to correct what is wrong, and move on to my normal life of work, bicycle riding, baseball, and fatherhood.  Laying inside that whirring and humming tube was going to help me achieve that healing task, so I was at peace with it.

A tinny female voice instructed me to take a deep breath and hold it.  I felt like I was in a science fiction movie.  The table I was lying on moved as the technician adjusted my position from her place behind a glass wall behind me.  The whir turned to a low hum as the machine shut down, the tech came out to remove the IV, give me a few more instructions, then asked me to pull my pants up.  I was done.  I signed a form then followed her out the doors of the scan room, down a few hallways to the waiting room.  She told me the doctor would have the results of the scan and talk to me in a few minutes.

She was right.  A few minutes later the receptionist called my name and took me to a small private room connected to the lobby, instructed me to wait next to the phone in the room as she closed the door behind me.  A few moments later the phone rang.

“You’re fine.  Just like your doctor said there is no sign of distress.  I doubt it is the stones that are your problem.  Frankly, what is probably going on here is stress.  Your doctor has already given you instructions regarding a pill for your stomach.  Let’s stick with those instructions.  Do the two week dosage.”

And that was it.  The diagnosis was what I expected — Steve is a worry wart.  Yeah, I have plenty to be anxious about, but truth is that I am turning that focus inward too much, so easy to do.  I understand why God warns us not to get lost in worry, let him take care of the small and big stuff.  I’m no lily of the field or a bird, but I get the idea.

So why in the world did I get a call yesterday with a referral to a surgeon to have my gall bladder removed?  Gaaaaaah.  I suppose that explains the constant nausea that worsened as the day went on, has not gone away.  Dang it.

It sucks getting “old”.  It sucks more worrying about it.

Oh, and GO CARDINALS!

Please Please Please Don’t Let The Jinx Be On

07 Monday Oct 2013

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I don't believe it either, jinx, St. Louis Cardinals, superstition

English: St. Louis Cardinals Cap Insignia

English: St. Louis Cardinals Cap Insignia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I really can NOT BELIEVE THIS.  You aren’t.  As I typed the title for this blog, what I was afraid of happened.  Seriously.  I am not remotely making this up.

CRAP CRAP CRAP CRAP!!!!!

I am listening to the St. Louis Cardinals play against the Pittsburgh Pirates in a do or die playoff game.  Michael Wacha, the Cardinals’ talented rookie pitcher who barely a week ago took a no-hitter 8-2/3 innings, was 7-1/3 innings into another no hit game.. until I created the title for this blog in my mind and finished typing the last “n”.  Argh.  As my index finger hit that letter key, the Pirate batter swung his bat to knock a home freaking run.

I suck.  Sorry Cardinal fans.  It’s my fault.

Wacha is now out of the game with one out in the seventh with a runner on first base, whom he walked on base.  Drat.  Drat.  Drat. Drat.  Drat.  Again I say DRAT.

Had I not screwed up and gone to the wrong office for my doctor’s appointment, Michael Wacha would have been today’s hero with a no hit game.

It’s probably because I am not wearing my lucky underwear, too.

Or because I blew my nose.  I NEVER blow my nose during a Cardinal playoff game.  They never ever give me a reason to weep, so there is no reason to blow my nose.

Ninth inning, 2-1 Cardinals.

Should I post this blog or will that be the final jinx?  It’s definitely on.

Oh if only I had my Redbird here to comfort me.  He would chirp and the world would be fine.

Ahhhhhh, Fresh Morning Air

07 Monday Oct 2013

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marriage, parenting, skunked dog

English: Striped Skunks (Mephitis mephitis)

English: Striped Skunks (Mephitis mephitis) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I slept in Saturday morning.  There was a bit of guilt in that, I suppose, simply because Miriam woke up around 5 in the morning to get Nate up for his golf meet.  Before you start playing the hate game with me for shirking my fatherly duty, we need to go back some 17 years to when our daughter was a new infant, crying in the middle of the night for her feeding.  This dutiful father stumbled out of bed to comfort our sorrowful first child, changed her diaper, held her in my lap as I gave Mir a few more minutes of well earned sleep.

“Why don’t you go back to bed?”  Mir croaked as she slipped into the room to administer a feeding, something I was not physically qualified to do, “You have to go to work in the morning.  Why should two of us be up?  I am going to be up any way.”

And that set the tone for a good portion of our parenting days together.  It’s not that I do not do late night or early morning, it’s just that the majority of the time, Mir can’t help but be right in the middle of it all whether she is needed or not.  The axiom she proposed has been accepted and true.  Why should two of us be up if she is going to be up too?

I am not a pig.

I’m not sure when the strong, acrid, pungent and overwhelming odor of skunk cut through the fog of my sleep into my conscious awareness.  This time of the year is when the young skunks seem to be trying to establish themselves, much like my teenaged son.  Lately it seems like every night or morning a skunk sprays or is hit by a car.  So when the smell hit me, it didn’t quite register in my mind how strong the scent really was.  Maybe it was because my eyes were closed.  The scent in our house was eye watering.

Mir let our sheltie, Nick, out when she got out of bed.  Nick greeted a skunk neighbor just a bit too loudly.  He caught a bit of the skunk’s spray in the side of his head, mane, and front legs.  Since this is the third time this has happened to Nick, Mir and I know what to do — isolate him outside of the house, then wipe him down with a mixture of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and Dawn dishwashing detergent.  No water.  Follow up with a shampoo bath.  It works.

Mir did not wake me up.  I did not stir. By 8 in the morning, she had already taken care of our poor animal.

Anyone who has had a dog sprayed by a skunk knows that they have to live with skunk odor for a few days.  It has been lovely, especially when the pumpkin spice candle was lit.  Our house smells like spicy pumpkin skunk.  Anything that was in our garage where Nick was sequestered while waiting for skunk treatment smells of skunk, including the umbrella I took with us to watch Nate’s golf tournament.  When the raindrops started falling, WHOOSH, I opened the umbrella to treat everyone within twenty feet of me to the lovely skunky aroma that had permeated the fabric.

And so our weekend has gone.  It hasn’t been bad, just skunky.  Good thing for Alyssa is that the smell did not soak into her homecoming dress.  The dance was last night!

My Boss Asks Me A Valid Question (for once)

06 Sunday Oct 2013

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Tags

old guy bragging about how good he is at sports, recovery, softball

Forget that “for once” in the title block.  My boss is often a valid questioner, one of those common sense guys with wicked sarcasm, which makes him ideal to be my boss.  He is also the one that called the ambulance last Thursday, a stellar move that deserves a thank you for him doing it in a caring fashion, instead of a “hey you over anxious moron, suck it up” fashion.  My boss also has two sons that play on our company softball team, a team that plays on Friday nights, so he is our scorekeeper.

That’s why he asked me a valid question — weren’t you the one who got carted off in an ambulance yesterday?

All of the guys on the team came by my desk Friday morning, concerned and worried.. that I wouldn’t be able to play our double header Friday night.  Come on, Steve, we might be short players if you aren’t there.  It doesn’t take much to convince me. Begging me also feeds my already huge ego.  I would play if I just had a double amputation.  Truth was that I didn’t feel like dirt, just a little wonky (a term found in all medical journals), and though my wife thought I was a bit goofy for wanting to play, I wanted to play.

So I did.  Like a freaking all star.  I probably should have intentionally done bad, but I just couldn’t.  My last at bat, the only out I made in both games, was a line drive shot that made a loud pop as the left fielder caught it in his glove.  There were four plays on the field that got me fist bumps as I came back to the dug out.  My boss looked at me with an eyebrow raised, something I am used to seeing, and asked that valid question along with “did they put steroids in the IV?”.

Of course, I got to my car and with the adrenaline wearing off.  Oh crap.  I didn’t feel good.

My wife has me chained to the couch with instructions that I will not do anything at all today.   Yes, dear.

Ambulatory Anxiety

03 Thursday Oct 2013

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ambulance ride, anxiety, oops, stress

I have seen the inside of an ambulance once in my short life — the day I, my bicycle, and an older gentleman in a Ford Crown Vic collided.  Witnesses called 911, sure that I would be seriously injured, so I had to go inside the ambulance that responded, let them check me over, then sign the form that said I was refusing treatment.  My right shoulder was bruised and my wedding ring had been shoved up my finger into my hand, but there really was nothing else wrong with me, besides the usual mental condition.

This morning I arrived at work with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that moved up into my chest.  I wasn’t surprised for the most part.  If you have been reading my blog lately, you know how much is going on in my life, quite a bit of it is probably being internalized.  I suppose I can take some blame for that as I am a bit over sensitive.  I guess that is true.  As I began to get into my work, I began to have difficulty breathing, the pain in my gut and chest became more intense, and I began feeling very weak, enough that I was afraid to stand up from my chair.  The thought in my mind was that I was stressed and anxious.  However, my father has had a heart attack and my maternal grandfather died from an aneurism and heart disease.  I’m over fifty years old.  Dang it, it could have been a heart attack.  I sat there thinking how stupid it would be if it wasn’t just stress, if it really was a heart attack.  I’m a strong guy who rides a bicycle four to five times a week, plays baseball and golf, but even strong guys have heart attacks.  Heck, I am the guy at work who is that crazy cyclist who leaves his car home several times a week!

I told myself to get up from my chair, see what would happen.  I felt very weak, but nothing happened when I stood.  At that point, I knew I was scared, went to my boss, told him that it felt like stress but wasn’t sure it was not a heart attack, told him I was going to the break room for a few minutes.  He looked at me, told me to take it serious, but go to the break room.  He would check on me in a minute.

I felt like an absolute idiot (shouldn’t I be used to that?).  I did not want my coworkers and friends to see me scared or to be concerned about me.  The new building our company moved to at the beginning of August has our offices located at the front of the building, one big room with tall open ceiling and floor to ceiling windows across the entire front of the building.  If an ambulance came, it would be right out in front of the entire office for everyone to see, a huge drama.  Arrrrrrgggggghhhhh!!!!!  To top that off, the man who owns our company is celebrating his birthday today.  The officers and directors were gathering for a surprise party next to the breakroom as I sat there trying to keep it together.  If I was trying to avoid drama, I was headed straight toward some heavy theatre.  I’m gregarious, open, and not afraid to be the center of attention, but not in the way that it was feeling like.

As I sat there, I began to feel worse.  I felt like I was going to pass out.  It was getting more and more difficult to breathe.  My boss came to check on me, said I was sweating and ashen, told me he had already asked human resources to call for an ambulance.  I felt the meter peg out.  If I didn’t think it was stress related, that convinced me.  Moments later, two ambulance techs came through the doors into the breakroom, right past the directors waiting to celebrate the birthday.  When they asked what I was feeling, I told them that I felt like it was stress, but afraid it was a heart attack, told them about the history of heart disease in my family.

And I still felt like a dramatic fool.  But if I WAS having a heart attack, well,….

I stood up, sat on the stretcher, and was wheeled out through the front entrance right in front of the entire office.  They left the doors of the ambulance open while they asked me questions, hooked up the oxygen to my nose and the EKG, gave me childrens aspirin and shot nitro under my tongue.  I was scared but aware of the drama, hated it, but I also felt like crying.  Please, please, please get me away from this, please everyone is watching this, I thought.  After what felt like forever, the second paramedic excused himself, closed the doors, and left to follow us in.  I received the assurance that my signs were excellent, very good, my heart was not the problem and is in fact extremely strong.

To make a long story shorter, it was not my heart.  It was my gall bladder.  Several hospital employees assured me that gallstones, when they move, cause symptoms similar to a heart attack.  My condition is not severe, just something that I need to discuss with my doctor.

I’m pretty sure it is stress related.  A guy can only take so much, I guess.  Things are getting better, will get better.  I have to trust God, let God take away that anxiety.  And I definitely feel like a dope.

Oh, and it’s 21 years of marriage today.  Mom is going to the Mayo clinic.  We’re caught up on our mortgage up to but not including October.  Some reasons for worry, some reasons for celebration, and plenty of reasons to just say “that is life”.

Should be interesting going back to work tomorrow.  Should I ride my bike?  🙂

NaNo — You Must Be Prepared

03 Thursday Oct 2013

Posted by shenrydafrankmann in Uncategorized

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For those of us who may not be aware, it is now October.  It is also October 3, a day that will live in infamy for me, the day my life took that turn to marital piss..er.. I mean ‘bliss”.  October 3 is also a friend of mine’s birthday, the guy who just happens to own the company I work for.  That holds no special significance for me except he also is a biking friend whose birthday shares my wedding anniversary date.  I also have known him for 24 years — longer than I have known Miriam.

Last year October also took on a new meaning for me.  October became the month of preparation for November writing frenzy.   November is National Novel Writing month or NaNoWriMo to those familiar with the craziness of that exercise.  NaNo is a free write where thousands of people band together with the common goal of writing an unedited 50,000 word novel in thirty days.  Sound easy?  For some it is, but for the average non-super human, writing close to 1700 words a day can be a daunting challenge, especially if the writer misses a day of writing or just plain falls behind.  Each NaNo author logs in to the National Novel Writing website, is part of a regional group that offers motivational meetings and “Write Ins” at coffee shops and libraries, tracks their progress at the NaNo site, and can employ writing buddies at the website who offer additional encouragement.

During the entire month of October 2012, I prepared for the November write by putting together a summary of the story I was going to write, developed my characters, put together several versions of an outline, wrote stories for each of my characters (I posted one or two here).  A writing website that my daughter, Alyssa, frequents had an exercise a day during the month of October just to help NaNoers prepare.  It helped.  Of the four attempts I have made at writing a NaNo novel, 2012 was the best I have done.  I reached the 50K word goal by November 29.  The previous year was a nail biter until midnight on the 30th, with a lot of nonsense thrown in just to make the word count.  The other two attempts were just attempts.

Alyssa became a NaNo addict as soon as I told her about the site.  She joined the young writers section of the NaNo site, completed her NaNo the first year she tried.  My daughter has been my biggest supporter and cheerleader during the month.  Some day she will be a published author, one of her goals, and she loves that I dabble in creativity.  Now she is an adult NaNo member and became one of my writing buddies at the NaNo site.  Alyssa’s friends thought it was cool that her dad is a NaNo nerd, also became my writing buddies.  She has several friends that also write and they get together now and then to write together.  Two are in a creative writing class with her at school this semester.

That also means that this year I have been invited to be part of their group!  Yes, this year I will be getting together at coffee shops now and then to write with Alyssa and her friends.  How often that will be is uncertain.  I don’t want to write with them all of the time — after all it’s going to be a bunch of high school girls with one dad as far as I know.  But I look forward to what I hope is going to be perhaps that one last big opportunity I am going to have to share the NaNo experience with my daughter first hand.  Let me reword that.  I do not hope it’s the last opportunity, but I know that since this is her senior year in high school, it’s likely that this is the last November she will be living under my roof.

Oh, dang it, I’m in public and I can feel the tears starting to well up!

Now to come up with an idea for my NaNo novel.  It has to be something I can share with my daughter and her friends.  Last year was one I could share, a fantasy action adventure that was a bit out of my comfort zone.  I have ideas, but none that I want to write with someone looking over my shoulder.  It’s probably a good thing that my daughter is sharing this write with me.

So, here we go.  Yeah!

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Blogs I Follow (and maybe even read)

  • glennkaiser.com
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glennkaiser.com

There and Bach Again

a teacher's journey

Dean

Marketing major. Outdoor sports lover. San Diego living.

Southern Georgia Bunny

Adventures of an Southern Bunny everything from dating, sex, life and shake your head moments.

The Rambling Biker

Roaming & Rambling in search of MTB Stoke

Storyshucker

A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Ah dad...

I need the funny because they're teenagers now

Squeeze the Space Man's Taco

A journey into Cade's world

I didn't have my glasses on....

A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.

kidscrumbsandcrackers

Kids - I`m like the old woman who lived in a shoe - Crumbs, my house is full of them - Crackers, Im slowly going

longawkwardpause.wordpress.com/

Cycling Dutch Girl

the only certainty is change

The Shameful Sheep

Blog Woman!!! - Life Uncategorized

Mother, Nehiyaw, Metis, & Itisahwâkan - career communicator. This is my collection of opinions, stories, and the occasional rise to, or fall from, challenge. In other words, it's my party, I can fun if I want to. Artwork by aaronpaquette.net

Life in Lucie's Shoes

Life in a bubble: a dose of New York humor with an Italian twist!

Fit Recovery

Stay Clean Get Fit

lifebeyondexaggeration

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stranger

Globe Drifting

Global issues, travel, photography & fashion. Drifting across the globe; the world is my oyster, my oyster through a lens.

I AM TOM NARDONE

Cathy's Voice Now

Sharing my "voice"

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