Click for Saturday afternoon photos

I spent some quality time downtown on Saturday afternoon, taking pictures of whatever I thought was interesting or pretty. They're up on my Flickr site if you want to check 'em out, and if you scroll back further, Breast Fest pics are still up.
I read a great article on narcissism today, and it said two things that stood out to me as very interesting.
1. That the narcissistic credo is "I am the piece of crap that the world revolves around."
In other words, the narcissist has a very low self esteem but inflates it with delusions of grandiosity, critical comments to others who do not revolve around them properly, and people who don't go along with their ideas. They see them as a threat.
2. The only way to deal with someone who is narcissistic is to keep your distance emotionally, lower your expectations, and to stop trying to please unpleasable people.
An exerpt from the article:
(Real Simple August 2006, by Merrill Markoe)
The good news is that learning about narcissism has protected me from wasting a lot of energy. Now when I find myself unexpectedly under attack and thinking, How did I get in the middle of this stupid fight when I’m not even angry? the new, smarter me knows that the answer is not to look within and figure out what I did wrong. The answer comes from without: I am probably hanging out with a narcissist.

And once that piece is in place, I also know I have only two sane options - either agree with everything they say or pick up and go elsewhere. To stay is to understand that a healthy relationship is not in the cards. To fight is to confront an irrational, wounded animal. Knowing how all this works also helps me when I find myself being magnetized by the considerable charisma of some factory-fresh narcissist seeking my worshipful love. I rely on my sonarlike early-warning detection abilities, fine-tuned from years of static and misread signals.

I still think back proudly to a flirtation at a party years ago where I met a guy who set off all my alarms: sad-eyed, brooding, artistic, articulate, hilarious, and utterly self-absorbed. I knew instinctively how to draw him out of his shell: ask many flattering questions, then listen to his answers with rapt attention and appreciation bordering on awe. I knew that if I greeted his every anecdote with extreme empathy and selfless offers of support, he would be mine. But despite the fact that every microbe in my body begged to do these things (old habits die hard), I was amazed when I heard myself saying instead, “Well, you seem like a smart guy. I’m sure you’ll figure it all out.” After which I turned and went off to talk to someone else.

I’m happy to report that these days, I no longer have to defend my opinions on trivial matters, such as what lightbulb to buy, or apologize for things that make no sense. It’s a relief not to feel guilty for failing to read a person’s mind or fan the flames of someone whether or not I think he has any flames to fan. In short, I’m not being battered like a cat toy by narcissists anymore. And, in a way, that is the greatest life lesson I received from my mother.
(Merrill Markoe, Real Simple Magazine August 2006)

So now I'm fascinated, and am looking all around to identify narcissism. And wondering if I am a narcissist? I'm sure there are degrees of narcissism in all of us, but this article certainly paints a grim picture of how to deal with other people who are. It doesn't really say what to do if you think you might have narcissistic moments (days--weeks--months--years?)
Anyway, I'll think about this tomorrow. Thanks for reading about ME.
ME ME ME ME ME...

Click here for pics of The Breast Fest!

Breast Fest at the Jazzhaus was wonderful tonight... Bellydancing, The Goddess Collective reading from their blogs, and kick ass rockabilly music by The Rumblejetts. Who could ask for more? I think it was a success, many many people attended and donated generous amounts of money to help Amy, breast cancer survivor, single mom of two great kiddos, and all around charming woman.
For links to all of the Goddess Collective blogs, see Rikki's site, which actually has current links, unlike the rest of us computer-stupid types.
http://www.poppetprojects.blogspot.com

thank you, thank you, thank you to Rikki, who organized, Jud, who designed and drummed, the rest of the Rumblejetts, Tanya and the Jazzhaus posse, Lulu for starting the movement, and everyone else who donated time, money, and loving energy to this event.
We love you, Amy!

I Lied...

I lied…

I lied to my mother and teacher and the school nurse when I was 9 years old, telling them that I had started my period. My best friend, Rhonda, was an overweight girl who “developed” early and started her period when we were in 4th grade.

When I claimed to have gotten my period, my mom took me out for a special “girls day out”, and suddenly I was on another level… no longer just a kid, but some kind of budding woman.
I learned quickly that even mentioning anything having to do with my period to male teachers would elicit a scared-rabbit response… or a red-faced, stammering excuse to leave class, go to the nurse, and sometimes to even go home.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do math today. I am having my period.”

I didn’t try this too much with my female teachers, sensing that they might possess some sort of “period radar” (padar??) which would allow them to see that I was carrying out this great big lie that I could not bail myself out of.

I worried during the next few years that I might never get my period, and something was terribly wrong with me, ruining my chances of having children. I was unable to confess this terrible malady to my mother because I had to keep the lie going.

I was one stressed out kid. I checked my panties every single time I sat down to pee. Sometimes I’d feel a twinge in my tummy and I’d run to the bathroom to see if it was here. I practiced wearing pads and belts in a sort of “dry run” of the event every single month. Tampons were out of the question, as my mother feared it would affect my virginity or something to use tampons at too young an age, or maybe she was just afraid I’d leave one in there for a month or something.

I can’t believe she even found belts available at that time. You don’t see those anymore.

Later on, things had sticky strips, dri-weave, and even wings. This was all too exciting not to be a part of.

Finally, at age 12, I got my period. I called my mother immediately to tell her, and she was like “yeah, whatever. I’m at work right now—gotta go.” Of course she thought that this was all “old hat” to me by now. I’d had my fake period for 3 years, after all. She had long since made sure I had my very own copy of “Our Bodies, Our Selves”, and various pamphlets from planned parenthood, She had the talk with me, and answered all the questions. She figured her part in my bodily functions was done.

For the next 23 years, everything was normal. I had bad cramps until I discovered the joys of the pill. I used the nuva-ring, and fully intended to spray paint all of my used rubber nuva rings gold and hang them on my Christmas tree. I never felt that the sponge was really “sponge worthy.” I had a few late periods that scared the hell out of me, because I never felt “ready”. I learned early on that a shot of booze totally relieved cramps, so I drank even more liberally that usual at “that time”. I still believe that a good stiff cocktail is the best thing ever when you’re crampin’ hard. I successfully survived PMS without killing anyone, as far as I know.

So last week, I stood in the “feminine protection and family planning” aisle at Walgreens. Isn’t that a funny name for an aisle? What exactly do we need protection from? And do people really plan their future 2.4 children while perusing the Trojans?

Anyway, my purpose for being in that aisle was to say goodbye. Goodbye scented panti-liners, dri-weave technology, flaps, wings, and pearl applicators.

A few days before that, I had gotten a call from my nurse saying that my blood-work came back, and I am very healthy. This is, in itself, a small miracle, since I battled a severe case of chronic necrotizing pancreatitis and organ failure, lost 100 pounds, and had 2 major surgeries during the past year.

My last period ended on May 10, 2005, immediately before I got sick and landed in ICU on a Friday the 13th of May.

My docs kept telling me that I never had another period because of the trauma my body had been through, including the rapid weight loss. They said it would return when I got better. I had a suspicion that they might be wrong, and that 3 years of having a fake period was coming back to haunt me in the worst possible way.

Finally, I requested the essential blood work, and learned that I am fully menopausal at the age of 37. I don’t know if I ever would have had kids, but I do know that it’s one more choice that has been taken away from me now.

I wish I had that extra 3 years now that my life is together, I don’t drink, and I am more mentally healthy than ever. I wish I’d had some warning… some knowledge that I would only have a small window in which to get my shit together and procreate.

I know I still have options to adopt or foster a child… and my work gives me plenty of opportunity to help others and take care of people…and I can wear white jeans anytime, even after Labor Day!!

But in addition to all of that I am going to just fulfill my dream of being the kooky old lady on my block with 19 cats who wears ridiculous outfits and too much jewelry and lipstick in the wrong shade.

If you hear of any free kittens, let me know.

Click for KC Star: Goddesses in the gossip column!

Oh, these crazy Goddesses!! Gotta love a bunch of women who pull together in times of need, encourage each other to do great things, support each other in tough times, and have a hell of a lotta fun doing all of it.

Click here for most recent photos

Don't forget that this Sunday, September 24th, is the Breast Fest at the Jazzhaus in lovely downtown Lawrence.

This is a benefit to help out the beautiful Amy, who has survived a whole lotta breast cancer and treatment.

The Goddesses are doing readings of their blog material at 6 pm (me too!!), then the Rumblejetts will rock out until 9 or 10?

ANYHOO, it promises to be a fun and fabulous night for all so bring your pals and head on up to the Jazzhaus on Sunday!!

It's been quite a long week. The beagle dug a hole and escaped from the yard not once, but twice, and was picked up by the dog catcher both times. It's costing over $200 in fines and citations. Yikes! I think I'll throw myself on the mercy of the court and try to get it reduced a little bit. She spent 2 nights in a row in jail!


Last weekend Scott did a run downtown, The Mass St. Mile. He did well. Terri and Jamie and I walked about 2 blocks of the mile, but we got t-shirts so whatever. Yesterday I was supposed to walk a 2 mile "Sport to Spirit" walk and did not make it out of bed. Still got a t-shirt. Yay!
Sat the 16th was dinner at Scott and Terri's, and lots of friends came over, including Steve who drove in from KC. His significant other just left to pursue her masters at Rutgers, so he's probably lonely. We had a fun night.

I have adopted a new roommate... Now in addition to Curtis sleeping upstairs, I have Jamie on the couch. I like to take in the strays.

Last night we went down the street a ways to see this house fire, and it was bad. Today I learned that only one person made it out of there, and that person was a long-term care provider for a woman with MS here in Lawrence who has 3 daughters that I know. It was terrible to hear, as she's practically a member of their family, and she lost her husband and 4 kids. I'm sending good wishes and prayers her way, as I am sure lots of people are. I can't begin to imagine what she must be going through.

Friday we had a work retreat, in which we actually set a lot of exciting goals.... our supervisor is very enthusiastic about all of the changes, as you can see by the pictures.
More to come later this eve.

Click to see pictures of Andy's surprise party this weekend

I used to wake up with hangovers so bad they made me never want to drink again… for about a day. After that, I was good to go another round. I tried switching what I was drinking, counting my drinks, then counting the wine bottles, and limiting myself to drinking on a strict schedule. None of these methods worked, and then one day my body said “ENOUGH”, put me in ICU, and so began the most hellish, enlightening, tragic, and painful year and a half of my life.

I never really wanted to quit drinking. I liked my wine, I liked the buzz, I liked doing shots with my friends and feeling warm, confident, and chatty. I was dragged kicking and screaming into sobriety, with the choice of quitting or dying. I followed a couple of my friends into AA, one was sober for 6 years, the other for just a couple of months. Still, both of them already knew what I was not willing to admit… I had suffered a drinking-career ending injury to my pancreas, and the only way I was going to make peace with sobriety was to go to those damn meetings.

There’s a little AA story of a newcomer asking an old-timer “How long do I have to go to these meetings?” The old-timer replies “Until you WANT to.” I like meetings now. Suddenly there are people in the program that I can relate to, and it’s working for me. I don’t know how or why, but it’s working. I’ve survived being uncomfortable around “those people”, I’ve learned which meetings have the comfiest chairs, I know what works with my schedule, and like the other recovering drunks in those rooms, I want to hear the stories. I’ve learned to share my own insights, and I learned that I needed identify myself as an alcoholic when I wanted to speak. I listened to people say “Hi, my name is so and so, and I am an alcoholic. Alcoholics talk a lot about what they are thankful for, and it really irritated me at the beginning because damn it, why me? Why can’t I drink like a normal person? I saw no reason to be thankful for any of the shit going on in my life at the time.

I still haven’t seen anyone walk into the program and feel totally comfortable with every aspect of it, particularly the spiritual aspect of it, so I’ve learned to roll with it. They tell you to take what you need and leave the rest. Somewhere along the way you reconcile what you are learning with what you already knew in your heart….I was just too drunk to care much of the time.

I don’t understand people who have just one or two. What the hell is that? For me, a thimbleful of booze is too much, and a bathtub full is not enough. Experienced AA’ers tell you to fake it til you make it. I figured what the hell…I’ve faked orgasms, I’ve driven drunk with one eye open, smoking a cigarette and talking on the cell phone, surely I can fake this GOD and Higher Power shit.

Something happened, though. One day I woke up and realized that I really was an alcoholic. The passenger side of my bed is loaded with books like “New Beginnings… Daily Meditations for Women”, “Return to Love”, and even “Chicken Soup for the Recovering soul.” Who knew?

My best friend and I went with her family on a vacation to Branson. We unpacked in our bedroom and we had both arrived with the exact same bottle of lavender scented pillow spray and worn copies of “Nightlight” , bedtime meditations. Just because we’re sober doesn’t mean we aren’t still a little crazy. We decided it would be fun to check out a meeting in Branson. We were pleased to meet a group of warm, welcoming alcoholics there, There is comfort in the rituals of AA. The meetings open and close in the same way. The stories and thoughts being shared are just like our meetings here. Okay, there may have been considerably fewer teeth in that room, but the people were really really nice.

Most meetings open with the Serenity prayer, and close with the Lord’s Prayer, with a little encouraging cheer at the end. Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. It’s a simple prayer, but not an easy one to live… I want a higher power that changes the things I don’t like, gives me the courage to accept the things that come easiest to me, and the wisdom to pick out winning lottery numbers.

Most meetings end with the Lord’s Prayer. I worry about this. I worry that it excludes some and alienates others. Most people I know that are new to AA are totally freaked out by the concept of a higher power, or god as we understand him. For me, it’s some sort of cosmic energy of the universe that is constantly changing and powerful. It’s a sort of universal mosaic of the energy that we as humans put forth. I seem to be very attached to the idea that we all put out good energy and bad energy, and that prayer and meditation are simply ways of channeling that energy toward things that we want or need. I’m often not aware of exactly what it is that I need, but somehow the universe always gives it to me.
It’s in the profound statement from a fellow alcoholic that touches my heart in some important way.
It’s in the beauty of the world around me when I stop and breathe and open my eyes to it.
It’s in the love and positive energy that I get from my friends and family, if only I am open to receiving it.

So I’m slowly becoming ok with the Lord’s prayer. It’s the moment we stand, (right after my butt has fallen asleep) we form a circle or some close approximation, we join hands whether we want to or not, and we speak together in one voice… to me it’s that moment that matters, not the actual words.

I’ve learned that everyone’s higher power seems to be unique. I think we each create or discover exactly what we need in a higher power. No one’s going straight to hell if they don’t pray to the higher power I think they need. I get to keep my side of the street clean, and continue to strive to be a better person.

In AA, everyone must find their own higher power. This is not easy. I’ve never seen a “higher power” section in the yellow pages. I googled higher power and it took me to an aviation page that trains jet pilots. They weren’t comfortable with me praying to them, either.
You can’t place a higher power want ad in the back of the Pitch… you could, but you’d probably end up getting spanked.
You’re not going to run into your higher power at the Java Break or at Dirty Dillons. (and if you did, would you have to use your frequent shopper card?)
Your higher power will not do your dishes. I know, I’ve asked.
You probably won’t see a vision of your higher power in your morning piece of toast, or find it weeping blood in some remote village.

My higher power puts me at ease when I feel like I am the only person drinking lemonade on the Free state Porch. It reminds me to live in the moment rather than worrying about yesterday and tomorrow. It keeps me aware of where I’ve been and where I want to go.

As a feminist, it bugs me that the language of much of the AA texts is old fashioned and patriarchal. However, I can roll with that, also, with the understanding that it’s reflective of both the era (1935) that it was written in, and the two men who wrote most of the program. I think no one really wants to change it too much cause it works, and it’s been working for over 70 years.

Admitting powerlessness over alcohol also bugs me. But by admitting that alcohol kicked my ass both mentally and physically, I’ve gained a new freedom and power.
I will probably never have a one night stand again.
I probably won’t get my first DUI.
I probably will continue to learn and grow both physically and mentally, rather than marinating in Chardonnay, tequila, and Jagermeister. (No, that’s not all one cocktail…if it is, I don’t recommend trying it at home.)
I’ll probably never fall down on Mass Street again, lose a tooth in a bar, or take March 17th off of work to ride around town on a bus drinking all day.
I hope I never get so sick again that my ultimate hangover resulted in 18 hospitalizations, 2 major surgeries, and numerous painful procedures in one year.
I’ll never taste black tequila or Corona in a can.

I’m ok with all of this, because I’m not doing it on my own. I’m privileged to get to sit in church basements with other drunks, drinking bad coffee and learning good tools to deal with life on life’s terms.

My name is Kalli, I am a recovering alcoholic, and I’m grateful to be here.

Mattsbrilliantidea

Mattsbrilliantidea
Originally uploaded by kallisanders.

Things have been crazy busy at work. Starting over with a new caseload means I need to set up systems to stay super organized for the long haul.

My supervisor likes systems, too.

He drew this for us last week and asked us to implement it.

Uhhh. Yeah.

Alexandra playing

Alexandra playing
Originally uploaded by kallisanders.

Lydia's baby is just freakin' adorable.
and Becky is the baby whisperer.
Lydia seems to be taking new motherhood in stride...she's definitely on the calm end of the crazy train that being a new mom seems to be.

As for me, I think that train done left the station... but I am finally getting it checked out by the ob/gyn in early October. Maybe the pancreas ate my ovaries.
Say that with an australian accent and see if it doesn't make you smile.

Ginx2

Ginx2
Originally uploaded by kallisanders.

This is the new little man in my life... he's 10 weeks old, and he loves to rock and roll all night and party every day... His full name is Ginx Simmons, 'cause of his black & white face and his tendency toward
t-r-o-u-b-l-e.

Lucy hates his ass, because Ginx tortures her by jumping her ass constantly and using her tail as a plaything.

Emily just wants to nibble him like a tender little kitten crisp.

Lookit my scrawny leg behind him.

Flickr

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