One Hour Forward, 3 Steps Back

Daylight Savings Time is a mixed bag.  It's awesome that the sun is up at 6 AM and it stays light until almost 7 PM now.  Unfortunately, the day we officially "lose" the hour is a huge psychological hurdle for me, and I never seem to get over it without falling on my face.

This is what I tripped over to start my day.




Let me explain.

I scheduled an appointment to get my hair done BEFORE I realized what today was.  An 8 AM appointment.  My hairdresser was kind enough to call me a couple of days ago and acknowledge we could both use more sleep, so she pushed it back to 9.  But since I lost an hour, it didn't make much difference.

I managed not to sleep through the alarm, which was a minor miracle, but didn't get up in enough time to have a decent breakfast since I was out of milk for cereal and would be late if I made my weekend omelette.  So I hit the vending machine in my building, which has Pop Tarts -- the TRUE breakfast of champions.  But when you're sleep deprived and cranky at losing an hour, "F0" (the Pop Tart button) looks A LOT like "E0."   So I ended up with white chocolate Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.  I like Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.  I DETEST white chocolate.  Time for Breakfast Plan B....

Luckily there was a Starbucks drive-thru on the way to my appointment.  Since I've given up Starbucks, I had a decaf to ease the pain to my system and dug into the REAL reason I stopped there -- reduced fat turkey bacon sandwich.  So at least one thing went right today and I had a good breakfast.

My hair turned out great (my hairdresser IS a genius), but the rest of the day I was totally off kilter.  I napped off and on in between hockey games and generally got nothing done.  So now everything on the to-do list from today moves to tomorrow, and I'm still out of milk because I never made it to the store today.

Tomorrow morning should be interesting.  At least I get my full 24 hours to make it whatever it's going to be....

Getting Unstuck With A Little "Spring Cleaning"

I hit a wall with a project I was working on at the office today, and in the hopes of getting unstuck, I went searching for inspiration.  My first stop was a file drawer and my trusty "Idea File" folder.

There must be some inspiration in here somewhere....right?

For the most part, I'm a digital girl in all aspects of my life, but I still have a few tried and true idea generators that are in hard copy form.  However, the longer I flipped through my idea stash, the more I realized how much of it was too dated to be inspiring.  It's easy when you're busy to simply file something away you're sure you'll need later, only to find it wasn't important enough to pull out again, or quickly became out-dated when you did seek it out again.  Such is the nature of the quickly changing business environment we all work in.

Since I have a severe case of organizational OCD, I started throwing away things I didn't need.  Then I started looking at other files, then the other desk drawers, and finally moved to my bookshelves.  By the time I was done, I had two piles of out-dated material the size of this one.

Off to the shredder with you!

And a funny thing happened on the way to the shredder box.  Once my desk had more "space," my brain did too.  And all the stuff I threw out actually gave me some ideas on digital components to enhance my project!

What do YOU do to get fresh inspiration when you're stuck?

Addiction and Recovery: My Starbucks Story

My relationship with Starbucks began in earnest in the fall of 1998, when I moved from Seattle, WA to Burbank, CA.   Even though there was a Starbucks everywhere I went in the Pacific Northwest, my addiction didn't start there, because I really don't like coffee. Yes, you read that right.  Love the smell of coffee, but can't stand the taste.  Way too bitter.   Most of the people I knew in Seattle that were Starbucks addicts drank actual COFFEE.  So I never really had a reason to get hooked on the whole Starbucks experience.

Then I moved to California, and a couple of things happened.   First, there was a Starbucks right across the street from my apartment complex, next to the dry cleaners and the grocery store, so I was exposed to it all the time.  Second, I worked with a bunch of stressed out claims adjusters dealing with long commutes in crazy traffic.   Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, walked around the office holding one of those cool white cups with the green logo -- all day long.

The only people I knew in Burbank when I moved were my two bosses.   I wanted to make new friends.  I wanted to fit in.  So when a bunch of my co-workers went to lunch together and stopped by Starbucks after, I was along for the ride.  When I explained I didn't drink coffee, they said "Try a Frappuccino!"  It was warm outside.  The Frappuccino was nice and cold, and it was like a delicious ice cream smoothie with that gorgeous dollop of whipped cream on the top.  Frappuccino became the gateway drug, and so my addiction began.

It didn't take me long to gain 10 extra pounds.  The pre-made mixture they use in Frappuccino is full of calories, and I was drinking at least one of these things every day.  I started with the small one, but once it started getting hot outside, the size got bigger.  I started ordering them with no whipped cream to cut the calories.

Then fall came, my body started adjusting to the California weather, and I was feeling cold for the first time since I moved, so I needed a hot drink.  As luck would have it, I was just in time for the arrival of peppermint syrup in celebration of the holiday season.  After some consultation with my barista, we determined peppermint mocha was the way to go.  For a while, I drank them with whole milk and whipped cream.  After the scale started becoming unfriendly again, I moved to non-fat, no whip.

For YEARS that was my signature drink. Venti non-fat, no whip peppermint mocha.  Hot in the winter, iced in the summer.  I practiced saying my order correctly after reading a brochure in the store instructing me about proper ordering technique:

1. Size of drink
2. Hot or iced
3. Type of milk
4. Whipped or not
5. Type of syrup
6. Extra/add ons

Beyond enjoying the beverage itself, I loved going into the store.  All the baristas knew my name because they saw me every day.  They knew my "usual" drink.  I felt important.  The Burbank store was particular fun because I would see celebrities all the time (the store was the closest one to the Warner Brother studio lots).  Martin Sheen, Jane Seymour, and Billy Campbell all stopped in.  Tons of soap opera people who I recognized but couldn't put a name to a face.  It was the "in" place to be in the morning.

When I moved away from Burbank to another part of Los Angeles, the first thing I did was find the closest Starbucks along the commute route from my new place to the office so as not to disturb my morning routine.  Since my move meant I dealt with TONS more traffic, I started making two stops a day -- one drink for the commute in, one for the trip home.

When I moved a second time, I said good-bye to my old store so they would know nothing bad happened to me.  I found a new favorite store and stopped there twice a day.  Starbucks introduced a new syrup -- Dark Cherry -- and for a while I savored a drink that tasted just like the Cella's chocolate covered cherries my Dad bought me as a kid.  When they discontinued the Dark Cherry syrup, the store manager gifted me a bottle because they couldn't sell it any more.  I went back to my peppermint mocha.

And so it went, every morning and most afternoons, for years.  I knew every Starbucks location near every office I visited, every airport I flew through, every highway and byway I traveled living out my life.  I planned my days around Starbucks stops.  A logo cup was a constant accessory to my wardrobe.  My car turned into my regular store each morning practically on auto-pilot.

And then the heart palpitation/SVT incident happened.

Even though I'd never had symptoms pointing to caffeine abuse before, I'd been drinking up to 3 Venti drinks a day trying to keep pace with my busy life.  I never felt as though I "needed" caffeine to function, but I wasn't sure I would have the energy I needed to manage my days without it.  Maybe the heart palpitations were telling me something.   Maybe this was a sign I needed to finally stop.

As I drove into work on the day I eventually landed in the emergency room, I drove past my regular Starbucks and went straight to work.  For the first time on a weekday in almost 12 YEARS, I didn't start my day with a Starbucks cup in my hand.  And even though the caffeine likely had nothing to do with my health scare, I decided to try living without it for a while.  I haven't been back since.

Luckily for me, I haven't had any kind of "withdrawal" symptoms from ending my caffeine intake.  In fact, some real positives came out of the change.  I lost 5 pounds due to the removal of the extra 750 calories a day in my twice-daily drinks.  I'm saving the $2400 a year I used to spend on coffee, which buys A LOT Of hockey tickets.  I haven't lost my energy like I thought I would.  Most of all, I feel good about the decision to remove one major bad habit from my life so I can focus on replacing it with a healthier one.

I have nothing but happy memories of my time with Starbucks and all the wonderful employees that were so kind to me over the years.  But it's kind of like ending a relationship that doesn't work any more.  Your heart tells you when it's the right time to move on.

Flower Power

Yesterday I stopped at the supermarket after a pretty tedious day at work.  I was just there to pick up some basics for the week -- milk, cereal, cheese, eggs.  You know the drill.  Errands like these are part of the uninspired, mundane list of things we all have to do to navigate our day-to-day lives and not starve in the process.

But when I walked in the store,  I saw these.

I don't treat myself to flowers very often.  When you're trying to watch your budget, flowers just seem too indulgent to enjoy very often.   But the colors were so beautiful and they made me happy, so I figured why not?  I've spent $20 on far more silly things before that DIDN'T make me happy.

Sometimes changing your outlook is as simple as adding a little color to your world. 

Lessons Learned From The ER

Ever since my trip to the emergency room for my mysterious and (so far) temporary heart short circuit, I’ve been thinking a lot.  Some of that thinking had me reflecting back on the experience as I’ve told and re-told the story to friends who have been checking on me.  I certainly had plenty of time to think about lots of things during my 5 hour wait to see a doctor.

This whole experience left me dealing with a lot of emotions that were (and still are) pretty uncomfortable.   I felt embarrassed and ashamed for not taking better care of myself and having to admit that to people.  For a person with great health insurance, I've done a lousy job using it so far.  I've hated doctors my whole life, and now I've learned the hard way that avoiding them isn't a great long term plan.  Sometimes you just have to suck it up and do the right thing even if it's not fun.

I felt lonely sitting in that emergency room.  As many of my friends reminded and chastised me after, it didn't need to be that way.  They would have come had I called them.  So why didn't I call?  Partly because I've always been proud of my independence.  I've been doing things on my own for so long, it's not a natural instinct to ask someone for help first.  But if I'm being honest, it's was also largely the embarrassment I was feeling, plus the fact that I hate having anyone see me cry if I can avoid it.

But the worst part of the experience was feeling fragile for the very first time in my life.  Whenever I've been sick with a cold or the flu, I knew it would just take rest, medicine and time and I'd get better.  The few times in my life I've been in emergency rooms before this were broken bones as a kid.  You put a cast on those, give them time to heal and everything is normal again.  This was the first time in my life I honestly wasn't sure I would be okay, and it scared the hell out of me.    Even though I know now what happened to me isn't likely to be life-threatening, that new feeling of living on borrowed time is still there.

Dealing with these negative emotions hasn't been as easy process, but the silver lining is that it's left me feeling more grateful than anything.  The support from my friends was, and continues to be nothing short of amazing.   Some of them wrote or called me and shared experiences of their own that mirrored mine.  In some cases, their friends or family members were the ones impacted.  Turns out this kind of condition is more common than I ever knew, and the more my friends shared their insights, the less embarrassed, alone and fragile I felt. 

I still catch myself mentally "checking" my heart rate from time to time when something doesn't feel perfect, and I'm still committed to following up with a doctor and taking better care of myself in general.  But I'm no longer afraid of what the future holds, because I am living on borrowed time.  We all are.  Better take the time I have left and make the most of it...

Who Are Your "Loves?"

Valentine's Day gets a bad rap.  Because it's a holiday that celebrates love, and romantic love specifically, the chunk of the population currently without a boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/partner/significant other of some sort feels like they can't participate.

I think that's just silly.  Granted, I've spent my fair share of years unattached, calling up my girlfriends and wishing them "Happy Sappy Shit Day."   But with age comes wisdom and the knowledge that some of the most significant "loves" in my life are not the romantic kind.   So I prefer to think of Valentine's Day as an occasion to celebrate the people that are most important to me every day of the year, day in and day out.

Since I'm crafty, I make them cards.

This year Michael's Crafts had so many fun things in heart shapes to choose from, I went a little wild.

I made a lot of cards this year, which helped me remember just how blessed and lucky I am to have a wonderful assortment of "loves" in my life. 

So whether you make cards, bake goodies, pass out hugs or just call on the phone, don't forget to make sure the important people in your life know how much you love them.

Happy Valentine's Day!

My Wake-Up Call

It started innocently enough, on Super Bowl Sunday.   I was enjoying a relaxing day at home, making Valentine's Day cards, when the headache started.

When I woke up with it Monday morning, and it hung around all day, I started to worry. You see, I never get headaches.  But I went to work anyway, since I wasn't feeling anything else unusual.  I wasn't congested, and didn't have a sore throat or anything that would indicate I was getting sick. I wasn't stressed out for any reason. Yet the longer the headache stuck around, the worse I started to feel. Just this total uneasiness I couldn't explain, accompanied by a new awareness of the speed of my heartbeat...which didn't feel right either.

Fifteen minutes after I got in the car to drive home at the end of my work day, it hit me.   It felt like a weigh settled on top of my chest and just sat there, and my heart felt like it would beat right out of my body.   I almost pulled over and went straight to the ER.   In hindsight, I should have.   But instead I told myself to keep breathing and try to calm down -- I was working myself into a panic attack over nothing.   I sang along with the radio to calm myself down, convinced as long as I had breath to sing I would be OK.

I made it home, put a hockey game on the radio, and laid down in my bed with two pillows under my legs. I laid there for 30 minutes, feeling my heart race and wondering when it would stop. I debated on calling an ambulance, but somehow I fell asleep for a bit.  When I woke up, I felt a little better. Maybe it was all my own doing, getting myself worked up like that.  So I spent the rest of the evening resting, getting up for short stretches, then starting to feel a little weak and laying back down again.

When I got up this morning, I felt much better that the previous evening, but still not myself. More importantly, my heart still beat too noticeably, feeling too large for my chest. I kept reminding myself to breathe, but the realization was hitting me -- what I was feeling wasn't normal.

So I headed to the emergency room -- alone and scared of what a doctor would find wrong with me.

Being hooked up to monitors isn't fun...especially wearing a hideous hospital gown...

Three vital sign checks, 1 EKG, 4 vials of blood, a chest x-ray and 7 HOURS later, the doctor had a theory -- I suffered an incidence of Supraventricular Tachycardia (SVT).  In simple terms, it's a when the electrical signal that causes your heart to beat misfires, then gets stuck on a repeat cycle.  That explained the initial burst of pressure I felt, followed by the racing heart for 30 minutes.  A person can have an episode like this with no advance symptoms, and it can go away just as quickly.  Or last for a few days.

I say theory because the doctor told me that every test result was "stone cold normal"  (he was a young guy, which explains the undoctorly lingo).  Basically, because I waited to go in and wasn't in the middle of the episode, they couldn't find anything wrong with me.  The theory was largely based on my description of what I felt.  Knowing the tests showed nothing physically wrong did make me feel a little better, at least until the doctor said he could prescribe me a short course of anti-depressants.    When I declined, he sent in a social worker (a lovely woman named Margaret and about my age, coincidentally) to talk to me about any "anxiety" I might be feeling.  She also mused about whether my hormones could be acting up.   Then I started feeling like the crazy spinster cat lady.

I suppose the fact that I was crying during the majority of the discussion with the doctor didn't help.  But after waiting 5 hours to find out what was happening to me, I was beyond exhausted emotionally.  I left work at lunch time without eating lunch, so by the time I saw the doctor the banana I had for lunch was long digested, and my only food options in the ER were from a vending machine, so of course my blood sugar was at an all-time low as well.  Most importantly, I have always been terrified of doctors in general, and hospitals specifically.  I was raised in a family where you don't see a doctor unless you need a broken bone reset or you are dying.  All that combined made me come across as an irrational mess.

So I left with aftercare instructions for Heart Palpitations and Generalized Anxiety Disorder.  More importantly, I left knowing I have to do more moving forward to take care of my health, because I don't ever want to feel this way again if I can help it.   I've been putting off a good top-to-bottom physical for far too long.

I'm done putting it off.