Tuesday, September 27, 2016

What I Learned About Turning 50 (part 1)

Hey, here's something I didn't know before I turned 50.
Once a woman turns 50 years old, her doctor can't prescribe birth control pills anymore*.

That's right, sisters.  At 50, you have to choose an alternate form of birth control because you can't take The Pill anymore.

This comes as a complete surprise to me.
You would think that since I had been asking my doctor about changing my birth control every year since I turned 40 that perhaps I'd have known this little bit of knowledge before last week.  But I didn't.  Because he told me there was no reason to change a thing.  In fact, he might have said something like, "We'll have a discussion when you're 50."

That was my warning.
He didn't tell me we'll talk about it because I can't have birth control pills after 50.  That would have been useful.

During my annual checkup last week, he didn't come right out and say that I couldn't have The Pill.
No.  He started out talking about how alternate birth control methods could make menopause easier to deal with.  He spent a lot of my short office visit talking about surgical options and other methods that he didn't like and hoped I wouldn't want. 
A lot of time.
Finally, I asked, "Well, what if I just stay on the Pill until menopause is over?"
And THAT'S when he finally told me he couldn't prescribe it any more.

I tell you this so if you are not yet 50, you can start to have a more meaningful conversation with your doctor about your birth control choices before one of them is taken away from you.


*I'm not the world's best Googler, so I had trouble finding a credible source to back up my doctor's claim that he "can't" prescribe oral contraception to me.  However, the closest I could come to such a claim was an article stating that birth control pills can safely be used until the age of 50; but it didn't say woman can't take it after turning 50.

Thursday, September 15, 2016

The One with the Tiara

"So.  What's with the tiara?" the Husband asked cautiously.

"It's my birthday.  And I wanted one. So I got one."

The Husband turned to Elder Son.  "Your mother has lost it."

Elder Son watched silently as I slowly touched the sparkly wand to my head.  He said, "I see nothing out of the ordinary."

"I'm a princess!  My son treats me like royalty!"

Elder Son gave me a hug and left the room.

I told The Husband, "I'm his Fairy Oh-My-Godmother. "

I'm 50 today.
I'm seriously considering wearing the tiara to classes at the university this morning.

Thursday, September 08, 2016

Sure Happy It's Thursday

He: I can't believe it's already Thursday.

Me: I can't believe it's not butter.



(Gimmee a holla if that's what ran through your head, too.)

Monday, September 05, 2016

An AckThbbbt Labor Day

How awesome is it that The Husband and Elder Son are both working today?
It is super awesome!

Why?

Both of them are headed toward the same Labor Day event to cover it for their separate media companies.
The Husband is recording it from behind a microphone.
Elder Son is recording it from behind a video camera.

How cool it that?
THAT is totally freaking cool, is what that is.

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Hours of Ours

Wednesday

Elder Son (who works part-time): I've already put my 20 hours this week!

The Husband (who works full-time and then some): Gee, how many hours have *I* worked this week already?

Me: Pft! I work 40 hours every week, then I come home and whine about for another TEN hours, you quitters.

Tuesday, August 02, 2016

Early on a Workday

Me waking up a full hour before my alarm goes off:  I don't think I'm going to like anything today.

And then I didn't.

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Pink Scissors

I work with computer geeks.
Everything they do is digital. 
Write a note?  Are you crazy?  Just send me an IM.

We've had the same box of ink pens in the supply closet since I was hired 3 years ago.

I miss paper.

Ah, but when they need traditional office supplies, who do they go to?
Me, the old (fashioned) chick.

Just yesterday I caught one of the upper management guys walking away from my cubicle with a fist full of scratch paper I had cut up to jot notes to myself. (Usually notes about things I want to blog about later. Sh.)
"I took a few of these," he said.  "Is that okay?"
"Sure.  I can make more."

Later, I heard* the owner ask one of the graphic designers if he had a pair of scissors.
"No, but Roses has some."
Wordlessly, I held my pair of scissors high enough to be seen over the cubicle walls.  The graphic designer came to fetch them.

This morning, a man from the local printing company wandered past my desk.
"Hey," he said.  "I borrowed these yesterday when I was working with the designers.  I walked right out with them in my pocket not even thinking about it."
He handed me my scissors.
I smiled.  "They're pink scissors. They always come back."
"Well, I knew they sure weren't mine!"

We have 24 employees.  Only 5 of us are female.
All my office supplies are pink, and as long as a male borrows something, he brings it back without fail.  The color is as repulsive as opposing poles of a magnet.  The men never mistake a pink stapler or pink scissors as something they'd normally have on their desk.
Just like the printing guy.
And he came all the way across town to bring my scissors back.

The women just remember to return things.
Go figure.

*In the new office building, we occupy an entire warehouse floor with an open floor plan.  Everyone can hear everything.

Friday, July 22, 2016

Drug Test

As a prerequisite to starting his new job, Elder Son needed to pass a drug test.

Me: How'd it go?
He: I passed. I'm qualified to do drugs now.

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

The Funny. We Haz It.

The planets aligned last night, and all four members of the  Ack!Thbbbt! family were home and in the same room together.

At one point during this precious gathering, my big-hearted husband tells my two children, "Always remember, boys, I love you.  Never forget that."

There is a quiet moment.
Then Elder Son says, "Why?  Will there be a pop quiz later?"

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Mildred

Mildred is a Jehovah's Witness who has visited my office once every month like clockwork.
I don't remember how long ago she started coming in, but by the third month, we had a first-name relationship.
We have a short, pleasant conversation, she hands me her literature, I thank her, and she leaves.

After each visit, at least one co-worker tells me that I am way too nice.
I think it is much easier to smile and nod politely for a few moments than it would be to discuss religion or even ask her to stop coming in.

So, Mildred has continued to visit every month.
Because I'm nice to her.

After her last visit, several co-workers asked me if I told Mildred that our office was moving.
The answer is no.
I wanted to tell Mildred, as a courtesy, that we'd be gone by the time she came around again, but I thought it best not to lead her to believe that future visits would be welcome at the new location.

This makes me both sad and weirdly amused.
Mildred came in on Thursday; we moved on Friday.
By the time she comes in next month, a new tenant will be occupying our old office space.  There will be a new business name on the door, new carpeting, painted walls, and a new person sitting at the front desk.
When Mildred walks in, she'll probably at first be delighted to see the fresh, clean new look of the office, but she'll wonder where Roses is.
And when she asks, they'll tell her, "Roses who?  There's no Roses that works here."

I imagine it'll be a freakishly surreal experience.
Like an elaborate prank.

I almost wish I could be there.
But that would defeat the effect.