Neil Diamond never changes.

I went to my Neil Diamond concert on Tuesday. It was my birthday present to me. I took my Dad, too. Kind of belated father's day present. I flew him in on Saturday and he left again on Wednesday.

I was an odd couple of days. We filled the time with fun activities, and I did have a good time, but I felt strangely depressed and anxious through most of it. It's amazing how little one can find to say to someone they have known their whole lives. I think we ran out of conversation topics the first night. After that, we bonded over our love of food, and spent most of our time stuffing it in our faces to reduce the need for talking. That, or we watched TV. I don't want to eat or watch TV ever again. I'm full.

Otherwise the choices were 'Viet'nam or joint problems. I have no experience with either, so it tended to be pretty one sided. The amazing thing was how any topic could be manipulated into a Vietnam experience or some story of death or severe pain - joint or otherwise. I mention a friend who dwells on a bad experience from college that keeps him from leaving home, Dad says, "that guy should have gone to 'nam, then he'd have trauma...Nah, he'd never make it through bootcamp. They hate mamma's boys." When I asked him the story line of a movie, he gave a recap of his favorite violent scene. Knowing that some guy shoots some other guy is supposed to make me feel like I watched it or something. This stuff wouldn't' be so bad, but it is every conversation, every reaction, every time there is nothing to say. Driving through a parking lot we see an old man walking up to the building. "Yup! He's got back problems." There are handicapped people being pushed in wheelchairs, heads tilted slightly, drooling, but smiling wide. "Yeah, people like that make me think maybe I don't have it so bad." This was slightly positive, but really, how can you compare back problems and a hip replacement to someone confined to a wheelchair who can't eat on their own?

It feels like 'nam happened after I left home rather than before I was born. I don't remember my childhood being so saturated with combat commentaries. We knew Dad was in a war. We knew Dad knew things about drinking, smoking, and shooting guns that he hadn't actually 'read in a book'. We also knew that Dad was different than other dads because his back was sore and he couldn't go to work. We worried that his feelings would get hurt at church when they talked about husbands supporting the family. We worried that he would get too sore to have any fun at Disneyland. Now I worry that my Dad is back in Vietnam and he doesn't understand that we aren't there with him.

He goes to counseling and support groups. He wears Vietnam hats and pins. He talks about guns and helicopters and drill sergeants, and this is supposed to make the pain go away. How can it when it is always on your mind? When you live in the past, letting it go will kill you. It really started to bring me down, and I was only exposed for a couple of days.

It's really hard feeling like I don't know my Dad anymore. Looking back, it seems like my relationship with him has always been focused on his pain whether mental or physical. I definitely have a better understanding of why my parents' marriage didn't work. The blame seems more equally distributed now. You can't make someone happy.

But you can give them happy moments. Like a Neil Diamond concert. Neil was awesome. He has the same voice, clothes, and hair that he had in the 60's. The hair is a little more gray, but no matter. He sang for 2 1/2 hours with no intermission. I did too. The best part was when Dad sang along. By the end he was woohoo-ing at the top of his lungs. I don't think Vietnam was there. And if his back and hip were hurting, it didn't stop him from a standing ovation. I was actually at the concert with my Dad. The guy who introduced me to music.

That was really good.

You put your arm where?!

Up.

Or in.

Depends on what needs to be done.

This week was a week of AI (artificial insemination). AI weeks are hectic and fun. We do new things and meet new people and we can kinda slack off on all the usual routine because there are more important and expensive things to do. Plus, there are really important people to impress so everyone has to be nice, which is...nice. If you can't tell by my impressive use of vocabulary, I am completely worn out.

Tava was the victim this time. She's been inseminated 7 or 8 times with no results. Tava's birthcontrol is sheer stubbornness. She just refuses to get pregnant. I would too if I had to be preggers for 2 years and squeeze out something that weighs 300 lbs. Anyway, we get a shot at this every 3 months, and we can inseminate for 3 days in a row providing we can get samples from the male donors on the right days. Sometimes they get shy and won't give a sample, or it gets urine in it, or like this week, fedex loses it. In those cases, we have a small supply of frozen semen to use as a last resort. There have only been 2 or 3 successful births using frozen.

Here's what the days are like:

Get to work around 6 or 7, take blood. Run the ELISA test to see if Tava's LH (lutenizing hormone) has peaked. Test will be done in 3 hours. In the meantime, do an enema (I only had to do one of these this week because I hurt my wrist and they needed to preserve my magic fingers for the more glamorous task). Then Doc does a rectal ultrasound to get a look at the ovaries and confirm ovulation. Then we have to clean the yard and take care of all the other elephants. If we have time, we bring a couple of them in for enemas, ultrasounds, and reproductive assessments. Turns out Bertie Mae cycles the same time Tava does. We may get to kill two birds next time. Then more blood and more testing. Then I take a urine sample. About 2 liters. I test pH and put it in special little containers to be sent all over for different studies, and to the facilities who provide us with semen to give their bulls something aromatic to promote the speedy production of said samples. Now we bathe all the other elephants and take them for a quick walk. Then we wait. 7, 8, 9 o'clock in the PM, fedex comes with the goods. Or they should. They didn't this time, so we had to wait until the next morning. Next morning, Tava is bathed, standing on pedestals, waiting for my invasive maneuvers.

I glove-up with special surgical gear, lube-up with Lubri-vet brand lubricant which comes in a gallon container with a pump (everyone who gets married while working with elephants gets one of these as a wedding present), and go in for the kill. Basically, I have to stand underneath the 8,800 lb animal, stick my arm all the way up a very sensitive place, and hope I don't make a wrong turn and upset her. Next I put a tube up, guide the endescope through, and hold everything in place while Doc finds the spot and injects the semen.

My part is really not too technical, I just have to be able to read her behavior and communicate with the trainer who is working her. But it's so much fun after the procedure when everyone is patting eachother on the back and congratulating. I always get a 'great job Nora!' from Dr. Schmitt. He is a world-famous elephant specialist, and he acts like I did all the hard work. Darcey got to go to India with him. I want to do that someday.

Anyway, we only inseminated twice this week, but the preparations on all of the other days were pretty exhausting too. In three months we will know if it worked. In two years we may have 300 lbs of energy with floppy ears and an awkward trunk running around and throwing manure. I really hope so.

I am, I said

I am, I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair

I am, I cried
I am, said I
And I am lost and I can't
Even say why

-Neil Diamond

I used to think this was his stupidest song. Which says a lot. I love Neil. I am flying my dad out in a couple weeks to go to a ND concert. But Neil has some pretty stupid songs. It only makes him more lovable. "And no one heard at all, not even the chair." WHAT? Dave Berry wrote a couple pages on how ridiculous that phrase is, but every now and then, I get what it means. It is beyond what I can describe, but sometimes you feel so invisible, that without an actual animate object around to verify your existence, you can't prove you are even there. Kind of Catcher in the Rye stepping off curbs and thinking you have disappeared.

I was listening to that song this evening when I went jogging. I know. Crazy. There were no bad people chasing me, and the ice cream man wasn't in front of me. I just suddenly felt like jogging. I didn't last very long, but that's not the point. I felt empowered.

This feeling has inspired some other crazy behavior from me. Such as confronting Steve. I decided that his behavior was unacceptable, and as miserable as he can make my life, it is illegal, and I can have the last word. I may never get a reference from him, but who knows what he would have said about me anyway.

I found the company policy on fair treatment. "All employees have the right to expect to be treated with fairness and respect." I had him read it.

n: Steve, I don't think you treat your employees appropriately.
S: O.K., what do you mean, give me examples.

I know he is not so stupid that he can't recognize inappropriate behavior in himself, but I decided to humor him. I wasn't there to fight, just to say my piece. I also didn't want to play the 'woe is me' part. I dislike the way ALL of the department is treated, all the way up to Patrick.

n: The way you lose your temper with everyone.
S: Tell me something from today.
n: Well, this morning I found my water bottle in the pile of boots and raingear. (this is a very minor example. I wanted to start small, but the way he reacted to this was better than all of the major examples I brought up later.)
S: WHEN I OPENED THE FRIDGE, IT FELL ON MY HEAD!!!! (he is taller than the fridge, and the bottle was empty)
n: Right, and I understand that you were mad. I would have been too. I would completely understand if you yelled at me when I came in today and told me to never put my water bottle somewhere it could fall. But throwing it in a pile of dirty boots wasn't the right way to deal with it.
S: IT LANDED ON MY HEAD!!! I was going to throw it up on the freeway!!!!
n: I know you were mad, my point is, where you put it was wrong.
S: Dave would have done the same thing.
n: And he would have been wrong.
S: YOU PEOPLE PUT ANYTHING ANYWHERE YOU WANT! THIS PLACE IS A MESS!!! IT"S DISGUSTING!!!
n: STEVE!!! I know you are frustrated, I know you are mad. That is completely O.K., but throwing something that I put IN MY MOUTH in a pile of boots covered in MANURE and raingear used for ENEMAS is unnecessary, inappropriate, and UNSANITARY !! Do you understand?!
S: I didn't see it that way, I just reacted!
n: That's what we need to talk about... the way you react. The attitude here is live with it or quit. I don't want to quit, but I can't live with it either. And I shouldn't have to.

That's pretty much word for word. I am really proud of myself for keeping so much control. I was hardly even shaking. It helps that I prayed first.

The conversation went on for an hour and a half. He made excuses based on the way he was treated as a child, gave multiple examples of reasons why he is frustrated with us (which I can't argue with, we are frustrating, but that's not the point), and finally said he would try to do better. He thanked me for speaking up and said that not many people would have done it. I felt better.

The next day he made Shannon cry. Mission not accomplished. Now that I have confronted him though, I won't have to debate about going to HR with my concerns. He knows where I stand, he's been warned. I won't take anymore.

I am, I said. And Steve heard. Whether he listened or not, doesn't really matter.

Completely Degraded

My boss has made an art of making people feel lower than low. He made yesterday into his masterpiece.

He started by making Shannon cry and not letting her speak until he had her completely confused about what he was saying or what she did wrong, and once she was standing like a little kid in the corner with her head and eyes down, he gave her permission to say her piece. It took her a full minute to be able to get anything out, and then it was just to say she didn't have anything to say. He didn't even give her time to collect herself. Just get back to work. She seemed too small to lift the shovel she was using.

We cleaned the yards in 30 min. It usually takes an hour. But that doesn't matter, because I cleaned the tools before I moved the elephants (who wouldn't be moved for 30 more minutes if we were sticking to our schedule) and therefore single-handedly ruined the entire day. There are days with him where it really doesn't matter what you do, he just wants to be mad. Take today. I've learned from plenty of trial and error, that his word is law. It doesn't matter how wrong he may be, don't question it, do it. So today when I asked, "Should I go get Taj?" and he answered (shaking his head) "We're going to shift the yards.", I went into the yards and began to shift the appropriate elephants from one yard to the other. That was wrong.

S: How do you plan to get Taj without a brush?
n: You said we are shifting yards.
S: And THEN, are you going to walk ALL the way back and get a brush?!
n: Well, I do have to walk B and V over there anyway, but still, I thought I wasn't supposed to get Taj.
S: Blah, Blah, *Expletives!*, Blah, Of COURSE you're getting Taj!
n: *brushes Taj*
S: You see, if you were going to divide the yards, and then get Taj, you'd want to bring a brush with you.

(this is is usual routine, yell and insult, realize he is wrong, come and nicely talk to you about his plan and include details that you don't need such as 'you should go ahead and brush Taj off. you do that to get the dirt off her back , so when we take her in the barn, she will be clean. that's why you have the brush. we can't have dirty elephants in the barn. haha, i remember this one time...' he reminds me of my dad yelling and screaming, then giving us ice cream. it made me dread ice cream.) I didn't let him stick to his routine. That makes him mad.

n: I understand being prepared with a brush, but you said we weren't getting Taj, so I didn't think of it.
S: I never said that.
n: But I asked you, and you shook your head, so ...
S: When did you think we would get her? (he says pointing at his watch which is the reason I asked in the first place)
n: I didn't know what you had planned. I knew Nick was staying late...
S: HOW LATE DID YOU WANT ME TO STAY?!?!?!
n: Steve! I asked you a question and you answered, so I assumed I should listen to you.
S: I wasn't answering you, I was answering a question from Shannon.
n: Shannon wasn't in the barn.
S: SHE WAS EARLIER!!!!!

End of discussion. I don't have the energy to argue with the insane.

Anyway, take that example and a few dozen times being told I am lazy, incompetent, not a team player, and a couple hundred head shakes and mumblings which mean you have so completely failed him that he has lost all words, and you have my day yesterday. But wait there's more.

Finally, I got to leave work. 30 min. late as usual, and all I wanted was to be as far from that place as possible. I was driving through the parking lot behind some chick who stopped to look at a seagull, then stopped again to talk to a friend, so I decided to pass her and glare my 'makes carebears implode' glare at her as I did. Then I saw the cop. He was trying to turn into the parking lot and I was in his way. &*#$. I moved over, made my way to the exit, and watched as he turned to follow. So I made a complete stop (probably longer than I should have), turned on my blinker, turned, blinked my way over to the left lane and made a perfectly legal u-turn right when his lights went on. #$&^. I pulled over.

My driver's side window doesn't roll down. I freak out every toll booth guy when I open my door to pay the fee, so I though it appropriate to inform the police officer of the situation before he assumed I was going to pull a weapon or run.

n: (door slightly open) Sir, my window doesn't work, so I have to open my door.
Officer Friendly: I don't care! Do you have a license? Do you have insurance? Do you have registration?

For each of these questions I answered yes, already digging for them before he finished asking.

OF: WELL, do you wanna get them out? (He oozed with sarcasm like it was his favorite Bath and Body Works flavor and he had the whole collection from shampoo and deodorant to fabric softener)

I ended up not having my registration. I explained that it was at home because I was taking it in to cover a fix-it ticket. "I don't care." And here's my insurance, this one is expired, but I still have this company. "I don't care."

All the time I'm telling myself not to cry. It's not his fault I've had an awful day, and yes, I should have my insurance up to date. He has every right to be a little rude.

OF: Do you know why I pulled you over?
n: I went around that car in the parking lot.
OF: (rolling eyes) And you were driving pretty fast, and you came all the way into the far lane and made a U-turn.

By-the by, there are signs which say we can and should make u-turns at that point to keep traffic flowing, but I wasn't going to argue.

OF: Why did you swerve around that car in the parking lot anyway?
n: Because I saw that I was in your way.
OF: How did you see me? I didn't see you.
n: (I realized at this point that he was as irrational as Steve, and I couldn't safely answer that question) I didn't, until I went around the car, and I ended up in your way.
OF: You have somewhere really important to go or something?
n: No sir, I was just impatient (I was trying to be as honest as possible so he could just give me my ticket and let me go)
OF: Right. Well, as far as I'm concerned, you have no insurance. You can try to prove that you do in court, but there is a huge fine for driving without it. I'll be back.

He went to his car and I could see he had a ridealong with him. Probably his little brother (some cops take their siblings out with them and let them secretly listen in on their conversations with the people they pull over :) Then, I saw them laughing, and I started to cry. He was mocking me and that was the last thing I needed. He made me wait for about ten minutes.

When he came back to the car he knocked on my door, I dried my eyes, and turned to face him.
OF: You know I could give you a ticket.
n: Yes sir.
OF: No insurance is like, a 700 dollar fine.
n: Yes sir.
OF: I see you work at Six Flags. Being the high-paid PROFESSIONAL that you are, I doubt you can afford that.
n: No sir, thankyou.

He gave me my license and left.

There is a difference between the humbling that I needed for being a little reckless, and the humiliation that he decided to dish out to me. He stabbed me to the core. After being brokendown all day, he tore at the one thing left that I take pride in. He made me feel like a non-person.

He helped me realize something though. He was a jerk. A major jerk. And he had no right to be so mean. And he reminded me of Steve. I had to sit and take it from the cop, but why do I take it from Steve? Why do I have to hold on to a job with terrible pay, no future, and the surety of daily degradation? I am pretty much stranded here with no resources to leave (I still haven't paid off my last two moves), but if an opportunity comes up somewhere else, I will probably go into debt to take it. There is a job in Seattle. I'm not qualified, but I applied anyway, right at the deadline. It's a long shot, but I had to try. If anyone reading this would keep me in their prayers, I'd really appreciate it.

Conversation with my little sister

J: Stina might be smokin' for two.
n: Stina smokes?!
J: That's not really supposed to be the shocking part of this story.
n: Oh. Right.

Drew a picture of Liz pushing a rock.

Regretting my independent streak

I've spent the last few hours glued to CNN in awe of the devastation caused by one storm. The scarier part, though, is the huge delay in any assistance getting through to the people affected. It is so frightening to think that a person strong enough to survive, to climb onto a roof and live there for 2 to 3 days, will have to give up hope now, because rescue searches have been closed. Or families who made their way to public areas in search of officials and medical assistance, are finding corpses covered in rats, riots and looting, and are being robbed, beaten, and raped because there is no one there to keep the order. I can't believe that this can happen here.

September 11th was different. People died very suddenly with no warning, and people jumped in so quickly to help, that much of what could have been worse was avoided. Thousands of people died, and we couldn't do anything. In this case, thousands WILL die, and the things we can do aren't being done fast enough.

I'm not saying this to point any fingers. I'm not complaining about our government. I'm just re-evaluating my personal level of safety. I've never considered that if there was a natural disaster, and I survived, that I may sit around for a week waiting for help, just to die of hunger, dehydration, or disease. It's so scary.

The scariest part for me to think about is that my pride and independence have taken me so far from any family and all support. If I were suddenly without technology, I would have no one and nothing. My closest friends are my computer and my cell phone.

I know that the Lord has a plan. I just hope I am following it as well as I should be. I hope I haven't made any major mistakes and pushed so many people so far away that I won't ever be able to hold on to anyone. I'm really terrified of being alone.

I'm praying for those who are waiting for help. God be with them.