Wexford Girl

A Note From Eric

Hello Everyone.

This is Eric, the Wexford Girl's husband.  You may have noticed she has not posted in the last week, and that is because she is in the hospital, and she wanted me to tell everyone what is going on.  Last Sunday, the morning after her birthday, I took her to the Emergency Room, as she was obviously very ill.  I will let her elaborate later on her history of gastrointestinal issues, but I knew something was awfully wrong and so did she.

After taking first an XRay and then a CT scan, the doctors found she had a blockage in her small intestine. She was admitted last Sunday night, and through the week, we have found out the following:

She has something Crohn's Disease, and true to its form, it has affected the area of her small intestine where it joins the large intestine.  The diagnosis is somewhat welcome, as it is treatable, though not curable. At least we now know what is going on.  She is under the care of the excellent medical team of UCSF, and we are waiting now to see if surgery will be required this week to correct the problem.

Her spirits are high. She has had a steady stream of visitors, and her room, which overlooks San Francisco, could be mistaken for a floral shop.

Here is the lovely patient, with her good friends Brenda and Alisha.  If you want to send along your Get Well wishes, I promise to print out all responses to this post and read them to her personally.

She is truly a remarkable person, and I will keep you posted on her progress. 

Eric

Conversation

It's my last evening in my thirties. I can't get my head around 40 quite yet. I think I felt the same on the eve of my 30th birthday. Where was I 10 years ago? Well, I was living in Berkeley with Suzi in that cute, cold house on Bancroft. I was going to school at U.C. Berkeley and waiting tables either at Triple Rock Brewery or Spats, (both of which I got fired from incidentally). For my birthday we had a big party at the house, but I wasn't into wine yet; I drank beer.

What would Annie on the eve of her 30th birthday want to ask Annie who is about to be 40? Let's travel back in time and see.

30-year-old Annie: Did you finally manage to find a boyfriend and get married?

40-year-old Annie: Yes I did actually, you cheeky bitch. He's a good one too.

30-year-old Annie: Are you still riding a motorcycle?

40-year-old Annie: Well, here's a funny thing. I haven't ridden one for eight years, but Eric (that's my husband) just bought me a brand new Shadow for my birthday, so I'm on two wheels again.

30-year-old Annie: Cool! Do you still wait tables?

40-year-old Annie: Hey, give me some credit. I am using my English degree and I write copy for the Web. You know what that is, right?

30-year-old Annie: Mmm, kind of. How is everyone at home?

40-year-old Annie: Everyone is still healthy and happy. Liz has five children, and John has two. Michael moved to Cork and bought a house.

30-year-old Annie: They all sound so grown up. Seven neices and nephews! So do you have any kids?

40-year-old Annie: I'm afraid that wasn't on the cards, but I feel fine about it, and so will you.

30-year-old Annie: Are you still writing poetry?

40-year-old Annie: Not so much. I'm painting a lot though. I have to go to bed soon so let's wrap this up. we both have parties tomorrow.

30-year-old Annie: OK, one more. Are you fat or thin?

40-year-old Annie: Well, get ready for a few roller coaster years. You will be thin and lovely in summer of 1998, but by 2002, you'll be at your heaviest. Then you'll get it under control and lose 40 lbs, which you've maintained now for 4 years. There's a lot of counting points coming up, but it will be worth it.

30-year-old Annie: Thanks! I'll lay off the ice cream.

40-year-old Annie: By the way, in about 10 months, when you're in Ireland, Stone is going to ask you to marry him, despite the fact that you haven't lived in the same country for six years. If it wasn't for the fact that you would probably mess up my life in unforseeen ways, I would advise you to say no. You won't though. Don't worry, Eric will be moving down from Portland in 1997. Hang tight, and good luck.

Oh and when you're working for that Dot Com in 1999 and the stock is going through the roof and you get a big freelance check, please don't blow it all on stock. Trust me on this one.

Love It

I've been getting used to the new Motorcycle, and I love it. Here I am getting ready to go to Hayes Valley (and not have to worry about parking) yesterday. I'm trying to figure out the choke in the middle one.

It's very very cool that I have a bike again after all these years.

Web Advice

One of the things I like to read on the Web is the advice columnist on Salon.com, Cary Tennis. He's a wonderful writer and his advice is usually philosophical, meandering, lyrical, and spot on. Today he made me chuckle with this: To truly make a long story short you can usually say something like, "I was shot escaping after a convenience store robbery" or "I did three to five for manslaughter." That is making a long story short.

I wrote to him years ago to ask for a job when he was the copy chief at Salon, and once more recently to ask him if he was writing a novel. He was very helpful in his response to the first email, and he confirmed he was writing a novel when he wrote back to the second query. However that was at least two years ago and there's no novel yet.

Another great advice site is The Vine at Tomato Nation, by Sarah Bunting. Grammar, cat care, and love advice. Great reading!

The Gift

What a beautiful day. Clear skies and bare arms all over San Francisco. Just about the perfect day for riding my new motorcycle. Yes, my new motorcycle that my wonderful husband bought me for a 40th birthday present! I can't believe it!

I rode it home from the dealership the other evening, and I rode it again last night. I was nervous to begin with; I have not ridden a motorcycle for eight years, but it's just a matter of getting used to it. I had a Honda Shadow 700 before (this new one is a Shadow 750), and I rode everywhere. It felt like part of my own body, I was that familiar with the handling and weight of it. I can't wait to get back to that feeling.

Here's my new beauty (this is not the actual one I own; I'll have Eric take a shot of me on that one):

We Almost Died

Well, not really, but it was a scary experience nonetheless. Here's what happened last weekend:

Eric and I went to Tampa, Florida for the weekend for a family gathering to celebrate his mom's recent marriage and 70th birthday. We arrived Friday, later than expected because there was lightening in the area and the baggage handlers wouldn't baggage handle, so we sat on the tarmac 30 feet from the gate for an hour. Lovely!

It was good to see Eric's family again, his mom and her new husband Larry, his brothers Jamison and Bob and his sister Sheila (who lives in the Bay Area, so we see her pretty regularly anyway). There was a big party on saturday with lots of great barbeque, salads, and many beverages of an alcoholic persuasion. Then on Sunday evening, Eric, Jamison, and I said goodbye to everyone and headed for the airport. We had a meal with Jamison and parted ways, him to fly back to Dallas and us to head for Altanta to change planes and then on to San Francisco.

About an hour into our second leg of the flight something caught my eye out the window. A flash of flame, just about the last thing you want to see out the window of your plane (OK, maybe the second last thing). It was accompanied by a muffled boom and all the lights and the video went out.

People didn't freak out because not many people saw the flame and heard the sound. Some people a couple of rows ahead called over a flight attendant and told her they had seen flames and smoke. I was searching for signs of panic in the crew's faces, but of course there was none. They are highly trained to look as though everything is fine.

I knew something was terribly wrong. Eric was worried too. He heard the boom but didn't see the flame. It's such a tiny remote chance that I would die in an airplane crash, but at that moment it seemed entirely possible.

Then the captain came on the intercom, and with a studiously calm voice he said we had lost power in one of our two engines. He was trying to get permission to land at a nearby airport. A minute later he said we were going to land at Nashville, about twenty minutes away. That was a tense twenty minutes. Eric and I were happy to be there together. I kept thinking, if the plane goes down, who will call my mom, (even though at that point I was almost certain everything would be fine).

We landed in Nashville and were surrounded by fire trucks on the runway, making sure the fire was out. When we landed (a very smooth landing), we all erupted into clapping and cheers. Soon enough they found us a gate and we all spent 3 hours in the Nashville airport while another plane was brought in from Atlanta.

We got home, without further incident, at 5:00 a.m. San Francisco time.

I am happy to be alive.

A Tiny Flutter

Spring is coming, eventually, and I've started to feel my usual springtime flutter of creativity. I've been so busy at my job that I haven't had any energy to think about being creative outside of that. Plus it's been cold and drizzly and I just want to get home, watch some bad TV, and go to bed early. But the days are starting to lengthen imperceptibly, and with that comes a growing desire to get back to painting (I already am in arrears with paintings I owe to friends; Ashli, Nadia, Allison, and Miguel your paintings are coming!)

This new site I discovered is also inspiring me.  Whip up, created by Kathreen Ricketson, is "a multi author site with contributors from around the world united by a passion for making things, for beautiful design and for a desire to share ideas with others." A lot of my favorite crafters/bloggers are on there and it's quite wonderful to read their philososophies and thoughts on handcrafting. I'm also enjoying the range of crafts explored.

So, as soon as I've finished the bathroom mural, which is taking way too long, I'm ready to take over the dining room table once again and make it into my makeshift studio. (We do have an art studio downstairs by the garage but that's where Eric paints his big paintings. My paintings are so little and I like being in the warm house instead of the garage.) I'm excited about getting back to painting and drawing, and I may try a few new things this spring too. Maybe I'll finally figure out that sewing machine!