Life in the Cube

I have never worked in a cubicle ever in my life. It's a completely new and different lifestyle. There are many things you have to get used to in this habitat.


First, I'm wondering how long it will be before it doesn't scare me every time someone walks up to talk with me. This area is SO. QUIET. I've worked in a newsroom...people yell to communicate. There are 21-hundred scanners and various other forms of technology blaring in the background. Here, I can hear my stomach growl. And I'm pretty sure everyone else can too.


There's no such thing as a private conversation on your phone. I learned this when one of my co-cube peeps started giggling when I told my husband I didn't care about the "flinging-flanging" whatever it was.


And speaking of growling stomachs - I have absolutely no concept of time in the cube. In news, every little thing is on a timeline. X has to be done by Y time. The entire day is based on the clock. Here I only know it's time to eat when A/my stomach embarrasses me or B/the guy next to me begins his daily, "How does The Mixx sound? Anyone in?"


Cubicles also have cool cubicle things ... like a thingy that hangs over the wall and holds your coat. I don't have one. I attempted to steal one from someone who appears to have several...and in doing so jacked up a sign it was holding on the other side. I tip-toed away, hoping no one would notice. I still covet everyone's coat hanger thingies.


Something else I've learned. It is not at all weird to talk to co-workers THROUGH the wall. However, if you think someone is talking to you, wait about 3-5 seconds before responding. I've learned the hard way. More often than not, they are on the phone. I've had long conversations with people ... who were never talking to me in the first place. And what's worse, my cube mates know it. I hear them whisper "rookie" under their breath. We laugh about it together. Yet, I still keep doing it.


I bet folks who've always worked in the "cube" don't even realize there's a culture about it. And these folks over here in sales have made me feel welcome, even when they're laughing at me. It's pretty cool. Post if you think of any other "quirks of the cube" I haven't mentioned ... or if you have some in your work space people would find funny.

Loving A Caterpillar

I wanted to share the story of "Nick & his Caterpillar." I want to have it written down to save...and why not share it at the same time?

Nick is an animal/nature lover. He's gone from wanting to be a vet to a marine biologist to a "diver." He's got the kindest heart and just loves living things. He cracks me up -- we were in the middle of the woods on Thanksgiving - it was beautiful with the leaves changing and the silence of no-technology ... and he and I took a walk together. As we headed back, I said "Wasn't that a great walk?" And he said, "Yeah, but I didn't see any nature." Me, "Uh, Nick - this IS nature. What do you mean?" He says, "But there weren't any creatures." Ah, apparently you need some creatures to really experience nature. I digress.

So, in late summer Nick found a pretty impressive green caterpillar. One of the great kids in our neighborhood even gave him an old plastic aquarium type thing - perfect for housing a caterpillar. Nick lovingly filled it with rocks, dirt, leaves and twigs. He and his little friends also fed this caterpillar small tomatoes. And it was cool to be able to watch it eat these things and seem to thrive in it's little caterpillar home.

Nick even took the caterpillar to school and was the star of the class showing it off and talking about it. And he likes to learn about the things he's interested in. So, we sat down to Google this caterpillar and discovered it was some sort of horned tomato caterpillar (I've forgotten the real name.) He thought it was so cool that I found pictures that looked exactly like what he had. Then I got the brilliant idea to look up what this caterpillar would turn into. I found the picture of a giant and pretty moth. And told Nick - "look, this caterpillar will be a moth!" I was surprised to see his eyebrows get splotchy and red (his tell-tale sign of embarrassment or hurt feelings) and tears start to fall.

Me, "What what? Why are you crying?"
Him, "I wanted my caterpillar to turn into a BUTTERFLY. Not a moth."
Now my head is spinning.
Me, "But, but - did you see the picture? This isn't any ordinary moth!" (I'm talking real fast now.) "Look at it - it's like a butterfly. Yeah, moths are just a TYPE of butterfly. Look, it has big giant wings and it's really pretty. This is cool - it's a COOL moth. I think your caterpillar would be sad that you didn't like what it turned into. It's still neat. Don't you think it's neat?"
Silence.
Holding my breath.
Him, "Yeah."
Me, "Yeah?"
Him, "Can I go tell my friends that it's going to be a giant moth?"
Me, breathing out - "Yes."

And so it went. Him bringing the caterpillar in. Me taking it off the kitchen table. Him bringing the caterpillar in. Me checking to see if it was still in there. Him getting into school and friends and forgetting about the caterpillar. Me asking him if he'd put in new leaves, then sticking it out on the deck so it wasn't in my house.

Then one day I hadn't seen it in awhile and asked Ryan how it was doing. Ryan made a face and told me it had died. I asked him if Nick knew. Nope.

Another couple of days had passed, then I saw Nick coming up the stairs, carrying the caterpillar home, and crying. Ryan and I exchanged looks. Here we go.

Me, "What's the matter?"
Him, "I can't find my caterpillar." (Ryan had told me it had shriveled up real small.)
My heart starts to break, but I know we've got to do this.
Me, "Really, ok - let's take it out on the deck and look." (I needed some time to think.)

As we dig through it, he's sniffling, but doing ok. I tell him, "Nick, something to think about. There's a chance maybe the caterpillar has died." He says, "But why?" I tell him, it's really hard to take care of something that belongs in nature. I'm still digging through the stuff - not finding the thing. Then, in an act of desperation I try a new tactic.

Me, "Nick, maybe it already turned into a moth and flew away?"
Nick, "It couldn't get out."
Me, "But maybe it did. Like one of the times you opened the lid."
Nick, "I would have seen it. It didn't."
Me, "Are you sure? Maybe it got through one of those holes, or flew out when you weren't looking."
Nick, "I don't think so."
So much for that.

Then I find it. Small, shriveled up caterpillar.
Me, "Oh Nick. I'm sorry. Here it is. I'm sorry buddy, I think it died."
Nick, "Oh no. No no no."
I wrap him up in my arms.

Me, "Nick, I'm sorry. I know this hurts really bad. It's really hard to take care of something that belongs in nature. I'm sorry buddy."
Nick, "But I really wanted to see it turn into a moth, and now I won't see it."

I just hold him for awhile as he cries and pat him on the back and hate that moment, but know it's the right way to handle this. Kids have to know tough stuff too. I look up and see Ryan snapping a picture through the window. We must be quite a sight. The two of us. Hugging over a caterpillar. Yeah, I'm wiping tears too.

Then I ask him, "Nick, what would you like to do with the caterpillar? Do you want to bury it?"
Nick, "Yes. I know where."
Me, "Ok. We can do it together."

He takes me under the deck, where there's already a hole in the ground - and one of my gardening shovel thingies. Of course I'm wondering what this is about - but remember the task at hand.

Me, "Do you want me to do it, or do you want to do it?"
Nick, "You do it."

So I take the caterpillar and put it in the pre-dug hole and put some dirt on top. I ask him if he wants to say anything. He gives me a weird look and says no. (I was winging it here. I've never done the passing of beloved creature thing with a kid before.)

He then tells me, "Momma, I don't want to tell my friends. I don't really want to talk about it."
I tell him ok. We go up for dinner, his eyebrows still pretty red. I am able to cut off his older brothers with THE LOOK. And we manage to keep him distracted, but I can tell he's still pretty bummed.

Maybe a week later, I remembered the magic of You Tube. I looked up "caterpillar turning into butterfly." I was able to show Nick time lapse videos of various caterpillars making their cocoons and then coming out of them and turning into various moths and caterpillars. He thought that was pretty cool. Sure, he'd still like to have a cocoon of his own to watch. And yes, I've been inspecting trees to see if I can find one. But this way, I don't have "nature" doing its thing on my kitchen table.

And I totally get what he was looking forward to. I'm doing it too - -watching my little caterpillars grow and change. And amaze me. Kids are pretty cool. I'm going to enjoy them now, because soon they too will break out of the safety of our home cocoon, and fly away into the big big world. And I'll be proud - moth or butterfly. Both are pretty darn cool.

To Toss or Not to Toss. I can't handle the Question.

Yeah, I haven't been here in awhile. This "place" needs some cleaning up ... old links...old pics...it needs some general house cleaning. Which seems appropriate because I am in "out with the old" mode - big time.

I had taken this week off - hoping to clean out the garage and downstairs area and get it organized. Also to tackle a growing "To Do" list, and generally get it together. The house has been horribly neglected, because I've just not been able to deal with it. It's still standing. Barely.

So back to "out with the old." The garage severely needed cleaning out. It's condition - combined with how I overturned the basement recently - then left it - could make me a contender for Hoarder of the Year. We recently had a raccoon - and IT couldn't even stand it, and left.

So, I begin. First I mostly stand in the middle with my hands on my hips and take in my overwhelming surroundings. And then just force myself to get to it. There's a pile of clothes...from late high school/early college. I sort through them and remember which event of significance I wore each thing to.

I wore this anchoring at KOMU and put the clip mic just so to cover an ink mark.
I wore this to one of my first dates w/Ryan - where his mom was there too, and I fidgeted because it felt too low cut.
This is the pink jacket I wore and completely ROCKED a liveshot - only to later have the consultant tell me I shouldn't wear that color pink, and not even comment on how much the liveshot rocked. It was a LONG time before I liked any consultants again.
And I wore this to my friend's visitation...and this to her funeral.
Keep. Keep. Keep. And Keep.

I moved on. I organized big yellow bags of "to donate" items. Yes! There are four or five of these filled. That is progress. No regrets. They can go. I better tie the tops of them in knots so they can go, and I don't have second thoughts.

Knots tied, I move on. Ah, kids' books. I shall keep the "Pat the Bunny" book we read the boys as babies that's barely holding together. I shall keep the "Good Night Moon" book that Ryan and I could recite line by line probably still to this day. I shall keep the chewed on, beat up "Wocket in my Pocket" .. because it makes me think of giggling. Donate, donate, donate .... keep keep keep, including the two "Jack in the Beanstalk" books ... not because they're special, but because I have a son named Jack. They may seem odd. But that doesn't scrape the surface of odd.

I look over at the milk crates full of files. I know in those files are high school papers...including stuff like information about Mythology. I loved Mythology. And now could probably Google all the stuff I saved. And I've never had a Mythology emergency where I needed to go to that file and save the day. Yet, I'm still wavering on the "keep" or "toss." I skip the milk crate, for now.

Then I look over at the 3 stacked boxes of beta TV tapes (the big kind), 3/4 inch tapes, and yes, even some reel-to-reel things..and probably even some carts from my radio days. 3 boxes. I think about the closet under the stairs and remember, there are a couple more boxes there. I believe one box is full of coverage tapes from my coverage of "The Death of Lady Diana" alone. I'm not even sure a 3/4 inch dub station exists anywhere so I could dub stuff down. But let's be real, even if I dubbed it down ... I'd probably want to keep the originals for "just in case", right?
I skip the boxes of tapes.

I look over at an old toy box. Inside is one of the things Ryan always brings up when making fun of my propensity for saving things. Past the old Barbie dolls, cheerleading pictures and crushed pom poms you'll find a cigar box. Inside the cigar box you'll find a contraption that you won't recognize. It looks like a torture device for mice. What it actually is, is a cast type device made for my left index finger. I crushed my knuckle playing softball my sophomore year in high school. The doctor called it "potato chips." I took care of all the "never-hads" in one swoop: first surgery, broken bone, stitches and pin in my body. The doctor said I'd probably never have the same mobility in my finger again.

He said I'd never have the same mobility in my finger again. Yes, I just repeated myself. See, I keep everything for a reason. There's an image, a feeling, a reminder with each item I just. can. not. throw away. And this finger contraption thing - it's one of them. Here's how it worked: I had to super glue a hook to my index finger nail ... (from a hook/eye set) and then put this thing over my finger and hook a rubber band to the contraption and also to the finger nail hook. The contraption helped pull my finger to stretch it and work it so I'd have 'some' mobility after the surgery. But remember, this doctor told me I couldn't do it. He told me "I'd never." And I've never taken to being told "no" or "never" or "you can't do it" well.

So I proved him wrong. I used that contraption, and did all the PAINFUL stretching and pulling and pushing and hurting. And to this day, I have FULL mobility in my finger - and I'm a lefty, so it's important! And I impressed him so much, he took pictures of my "fully mobile" finger and was published. I was his star patient.

So to you, and my husband, this thing is a weird, and kinda gross, contraption that probably should have been thrown away a long time ago.

But to me: It's a symbol of ME.
A reminder right when I needed it.
Keep.

Dear Children: Yes, we want you to Lie.

Sometimes I really think I am cast in a sitcom .. a la The Truman Show. What happened Tuesday just re-inforces that. If we're not in a sitcom, we should be.

So, I made this cake (pictured). It was kind of a big deal because we had JUST gotten back from being away for a week, I had to clean the house and throw a big fancy bridal shower...and then do this cake. All while still dealing with this pain thing. (No, I did not pull off this feat alone - my super hero helped me out by doing all the food for the shower. Yep, see post below) I digress.

Anyway, so the school has this cake auction thing where you are supposed to make a cake or cookie that represents a favorite book. The cake is then displayed in the library and the kids vote on their fave w/pennies. Then later that night there's a PTA thing and the cakes go on silent auction.

I really needed to do the cake thing this year, because last year there was this misunderstanding that Jack really wanted me to do a cake, but I didn't think he did, and blah blah blah, kid let down, I promised I'd do a cake this year.

And I thought I had a great idea. I'd make a Chicka-Chicka Boom Boom cake - complete with alphabet falling out of the tree with those hard sugar alphabets you can buy for cakes.

So, I baked Sunday after the shower. Monday morning I decorated. I defied gravity by making a 3D coconut tree. I wasn't in love with how it turned out, but I still liked the concept, and I had done a flinging-flanging cake and the kids could have one and not nag me. Great. We're good. Right? Wrong.

Don't judge me. Seriously, stop right here if you might even think about judging me.
Steal yourself. Ready? Ok...rest of the story:

So, it's Tuesday morning, morning of the "turn the cake in to the library." I'm asleep. Ryan wakes me up with his face right in my face (makes my heart leap - step back for pete's sake!) And he says "There's a problem with the cake." I think, and say, "Oh did the tree fall apart?"
He says, "No. Ants." Huh?

Yes, I had sprinkled the cake with glittery white sugar to help make the "sand" on which the tree would stand. And it brought out ants overnight. Not a million zillion. But enough.

Me: "Did they get on the cake?"
Ryan: "A few. I think I got them all."
Me: "Did the kids see?"
Ryan: "Nick was the one who told me."

Crap. I inspect the cake, and yes there are a few still acting out the "A told B and B told C I'll meet you at the top of the coconut tree." Some are under the cake. I'm doing all I can to get rid of all ant evidence. Because, oh yes, this cake is still going to school. Yes. It IS.

Me: "Let's re-wrap this. It's going."
Ryan: "But the kids will talk."
Me: "We'll talk to them. Help me wrap it. Oh, get that ant right there..."

So we re-wrap the cake. I explain to Ryan that no one is going to want to buy my weird looking coconut tree cake, he's going to be there and can bid on it and we'll buy it. No one is going to buy it. Really - I assume everyone buys their own cake. Seriously. Go with it.

So as I'm getting dressed. Ryan talks to the kids. There's no reason to mention ants. They didn't get on the cake. (Lie.) It will make the cake weird to talk about the ants. (No, really?) So don't talk about the ants. Everyone seems on board.
Then there's Nick.

Nick: "But daddy, what if one of the teachers sees one of the ants?"
Ryan: "They won't. The ants are all gone."
Nick: "But what if they see this one?"
Ryan smashes an ant coming from the cake.

Later I reinforce with Nick...
Me: "We're not talking about the ants, right?"
Nick: "Right."
Me: "Ok, good."
Nick: "I will just say it's a rolling piece of chocolate."

So yes. I DID take the ant cake to school. And I chose not to post about it until after the auction, just in case word gets out -- "Hey, the Gerdings sent a cake w/ants to school! Avoid it at all costs. Freaks. Who would DO that?"

Of course, now I'm sitting here thinking, what if there were still ants, and they attack the other cakes? Like, the big huge "Old MacDonald" barn cake that was like 3 stories high with graham crackers for a roof, complete with a bazillion cupcakes made into animals ... or the huge "Diary of a Wimpy" kid cake with 3D books stacked a foot high. Or the other TWO Chicka Chicka Boom Boom cakes? Honestly, now I'm not feeling that bad about it. Go ahead, judge me. You gotta do what you gotta do.

The kids got their cake, but hell no, they won't eat it too!

Rock Star Super Hero.

So, those of you who know us, know that Ryan is a boy scout. He's the one "everyone likes" out of the two of us. Me: people tolerate, him: they enjoy.

When we worked together at a TV station, people begged to have Ryan in their shows, not just because he did good stories with great liveshots - but because he's just great to work with. It was sick all the falling all over him. But it's not just that. He's just ... everything.

I enter into evidence his day this past Saturday. It really is a snapshot of what he does everyday.

First, he found some gloves in the parking lot at the soccer complex and turned them into lost and found...where someone promptly picked them up. Doesn't sound like a big deal? Ok, how about this ... he later found a driver's license at that same complex. And he drove to the home listed on the license to give it to the owner. The person at the door was sooooo thankful, and had just been hoping some nice person would turn it in. Keep reading.

Later he was at HyVee (grocery store) and saw a woman pushing a cart and attempting to drag a huge bag of dog food through the aisles. He stopped her and asked if he could help put the bag in her cart ... to which she replied, "Oh thank you so much!" And as he was putting putting that bag into the cart .... he hears someone say, "What are you, a super hero?" It was the lady whose driver's license he had just returned...witnessing him in action in again.

He of course just laughed and made jokes about how his super powers were mundane, because "as you can see, I'll never be faster than a locomotive."

But I shook my head. Sure, those are small things, but they are part of the big picture of what this man does for us. He's the cook. He's the night-time kid keeper. He's the homework checker. He's the coach. He's the person I lean on when I don't feel like being the one with the balls. Sure, he puts kids' clothes away in the wrong drawers and forgets things on his to-do list, but please, in the grand scheme of things - what a freaking rock star.

My rock star. My super hero.
------
Tune in tomorrow for "Ants + Cake = Telling the Kids to Lie"
It's a must read...and there's a reason I can't post it today!

Here's Some Numbers for Ya': 1 in 100,000

So, I have a name for the pain I've been experiencing...
"Brachial Neuritis/Brachialplexopathy." A simpler term: "Parsonage-Turner Syndrome."

Check out how rare this is:
In the U.S...cases are 1 in 100,000.
The doctor was even kind of excited to get to diagnose it - he had JUST talked about it at a medical conference where they were working on a board certification test - and they were going to put this diagnosis on the test because it's a tough one.
Lucky me!

Basically, when I got really sick 2 weekends ago - I never completely kicked it. My immune system attacked my nerves. (There's some joke about something getting on my very last nerve, but I haven't figured out how to make it go.)

And because it was my nerves getting attacked - nothing worked. Pain meds don't work on angry nerve endings. So, that explains why after 3 powerful medications in the hospital, I was still feeling it. The doctor told me morphine would not have even helped! (I wouldn't have minded trying though.)

So. That's good. It has a name. But what's a bit of a let down is the treatment:
Nothing.
Nada.
Zero.
Zip.

Yep. The doctor says it usually resolves itself after a couple of weeks. (I'm on 2 weeks 1 day now.) I'm not at the intense pain I was in - so hopefully that's a good sign things are indeed "resolving themselves." I do have to go back in 2-3 weeks, and if I still have pain, they'll so some sort of nerve therapy thing where they stick me with needles. Oh goody!

I was hoping for: It's X and we'll treat it with Y. Well, I got the X part. But no Y. I can continue to take pain meds to take the edge off for as long as I need - he even promised to keep my prescription going as long as I need it.

So there you have it. "Hang in there! Tough it out!"
Well, I'll tell you what, I am SOOOOO taking one of those pain pills tonight by golly!

Then I'll go to work tomorrow (fingers crossed). And I'll go to work Thursday (gritting through it!) And Friday, we'll hit the road and I will begin beach therapy.

That's right. That's going to be my "Y". Our spring break trip. To the beach. "Y" not?
Time to recover with my toes in the water, ass in sand...and hopefully a zero pain status.
I wonder how angry nerve endings feel about alcohol?

Thanks everyone for checking in. You rock.