Category: Anecdote (Page 24 of 31)

A Beautiful Life Is Born

September 19, 2011 / Katie L. Carroll

I believe I tempted fate with my last post because The Boy decided to make his appearance right in the middle of the hurricane! He was 17 days early (still full term, but his nursery wasn’t quite ready for him!) and mommy and baby are happy and healthy. (And, no, if The Boy had turned out to be The Girl, we would not have named her Irene!)

What I learned during the whole labor and delivery process (don’t worry, no gory details) is that it’s great to have a plan, but expect that plan to be thrown out the window (and whisked away by hurricane-force winds). My doctor was on vacation (of course) and so the on-call doctor (who I had never met) was there for the delivery. She was perfectly competent and an experienced doctor, but let me just say that I wasn’t used to her brand of bedside manner. It wasn’t that she was necessarily rude or mean or uncaring, she was just a bit odd.

Case in point, the doc and her husband has purchased property a few blocks from us. We noticed this piece of land because what had been a tiny old, dilapidated house surrounded by overgrown plants was very quickly transformed into a huge, gorgeous house with a manicured lawn and nice cars in the driveway. It came as no surprise that a doctor had bought it. When we first learned she was the on-call doctor, my husband recognized the name from the property transaction in the local newspaper.

During the early part of my labor (when I was still coherent and interested in engaging in small talk), the doc mentioned that she was in the hurricane evacuation zone, but that her husband was going to stay in the house with the dog. I was like, “Oh, yeah. You live not that far from us.” Then I went on to compliment her on her nice new home.

Big mistake! I realized it was kind of weird that I knew where she lived and quickly explained that we had noticed how quickly the house had been built and saw the property transfer in the paper. The doc was like, “It bothers me that anyone can see how much I was taken for a property by the water.” The she went on a bit of rant about how a suspicious car was driving up and down her street recently and she didn’t understand why she couldn’t find out who it belonged to by looking up the license plate but it’s posted in the paper how much properties go for.

It seemed like a weird time to vent about such a trivial thing (given that I was in labor 2 1/2 weeks early in the middle of a hurricane) and I wasn’t really in the mood to debate what goes into public records and why. Yet she kind of has a point. I don’t necessarily care that property transactions are listed in the local paper, but I do think that certain things should be kept private. Hence why I’m not posting The Boy’s name or a picture of him on my blog. There’s no way for me to control who sees it and I’m not interested in blindly pasting my precious baby’s information for any old pervert to see it.

But it I know you and you’d like to see a picture of him (and haven’t already), I’d be more than pleased to brag about my perfect little guy. Just let me know!

Taking It to Breath

June 24, 2011 / Katie L. Carroll

“Take it to breath” is something my yoga (one of the few sanctioned exercises for pregnant ladies!) instructor says during her classes. Now admittedly, yoga can be a little touchy-feely at times, but this phrase has resonated with me lately.

I interpret “take it to breath” to be a sort of mantra you can use when feeling stressed. For those things you don’t have control over or the things that stress you that can’t be changed, stop worrying about it, and “take it breath.” Breathe in and understand that this thing is stressing you out but there’s nothing you can do about it; breathe out and let it go.

Not that I really believe that you can just breathe away all your stresses, but I think having a way to identify the source of the stress and trying to rid your mind of it is helpful. And beyond visualizing this happening to have an action to go along with it (if you can even call breathing an action) solidifies the technique.

So to all my stress sources (worrying about being healthy for The Boy, getting ready for The Boy’s arrival, my hubby’s health and well-being, work, frustration over my writing, and all the million other little things that pile up over the course of days, weeks, and months), I am taking a deep breath in and now I am exhaling you all out Big Bad Wolf style (I don’t even think the third pig’s brick house would stand a chance with me!).

If that doesn’t work, surely a weekend away with the girls in Newport, RI should help. What do you do to relieve the stress?

The Insanity of Being a Writer

June 5, 2011 / Katie L. Carroll

I come across a lot of quotes in my day job as puzzle master (i.e. puzzle magazine editor). After a while, it seems I’ve seen them all. One in particular, though, always makes me think of my pursuit to be a published author.

“Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results.”

I’ve seen this quote attributed to Albert Einstein, Rita Mae Brown, and an Alcoholics Anonymous publication. Where ever it came from, I think it’s interesting that this definition of insanity could actually apply to many writers.

As writers, we are constantly sending out work and getting rejections. Then we turn right back around and send that work out again and hope for a different response. Does that make us optimistic? Persistent? Confident in our work? Well, according to the above quote, it could actually make us insane.

True, because we don’t keep sending our work to the same person over and over again that might not make us insane. Yet I still can’t help but feel like the whole submission process, even when there is hope of an agent or editor who has never seen your work connecting with it, is insane (and masochistic!).

It’s like saying, “Here is my manuscript, a snapshot of my heart and soul in words. I’ve been working on it for months, years, maybe even decades. Please take a look at it. I know you’ll probably say it isn’t ‘right’ for you. Maybe you’ll even hate it. Maybe you won’t even read it before rejecting it. No matter, when you reject me, I’ll take it personally, even though I know I shouldn’t, and I’ll feel like my work isn’t good enough…that I’m not good enough.”

And we do this over and over again. INSANE!!!

Then again, anyone who has a big dream probably has to be a little insane. When it comes to big dreams, success is almost always a long shot. And where would the world be without big dreamers? So maybe a little insanity in the right places is a good thing. I’ll just keep telling myself that anyway!

Tahiti Tsunami experience: Part 2

March 28, 2011 / Katie L. Carroll

Okay, so sorry to leave you in suspense for so long…where did I leave off? Right, right…French Polynesia, island of Moorea, tsunami sirens blaring in the wee hours of the morning. The hubby and I throw on some clothes (I remember to put on a bra, but totally forget about undies!) and grab the essentials: passports, a large bottle of water, medication, and some peanut-butter crackers (a pregnant lady needs her snacks).

On the way to the lobby we hear some people talking about taking a car up to Belvedere Point. Given the high-stress situation, I managed to refrain from laughing at them, but going to Belvedere Point would have been some serious overkill. Even if we had gotten a tsunami anywhere close to as big as the one that hit Japan, we wouldn’t have needed to go to one of the highest points on the island.

(This is the view from Belvedere Point. Way higher and farther from the water than necessary. When we had talked to the manager the night before, he had said worse-case-scenario, we would have to go up the resort driveway to the road.)

In the lobby, the manager makes an announcement that a tsunami is expected to hit about 6:00 a.m. and that all guests must go to the restaurant area. They don’t specifically say it, but we get the impression that it’s more precautionary than anything else, although some guests are starting to look very nervous. (Apparently, they didn’t have the luxury of a prealarm freakoutlike I had!)

We are actually allowed to go back to the room where we stow our luggage as far up in the closet as possible (just in case). We pack all our valuable electronics and some books and stuff in our backpacks (I still haven’t realized I’m not wearing any underwear) and head to the restaurant.

The next several hours are…well…pretty boring. I stare at the water, trying to detect any kind of measurable change, for so long that my eyes start to hurt. The resort staff gets the breakfast buffet ready as quickly as they can given that it’s still early enough that breakfast wouldn’t have normally started yet.

The only indication we ever get that an actual tsunami hit us (I think we technically got two tsunami “waves”) was when the water level in the lagoon went down just enough for some coral too poke out of the surface. A group of self-proclaimed geologists were sitting near us and they got all excited when this happened and starting documenting it all on their camcorders.

(That stuff sticking out of the water to the right of the palm tree is the coral that normally is under water. That was our only visual cue that we were in the middle of a tsunami.)

By about 9:30 a.m. the warning was over and we all got to go about our day in tropical paradise (and I finally get to put on some underwear!). So, like I said in the last post, it was a lot of build-up with little payoff thankfully. I’m okay with having experienced a tsunami measured in inches instead of feet.

But there are still a lot of people suffering from the aftereffects of the earthquake in Japan. And that is why I’ve decided to donate $1 to the Red Crossfor every person who comments on this blog post (up to $100). Thanks in advance to everyone who comments…I really hope to reach the maximum!

Tahiti Tsunami experience: Part 1

March 12, 2011 / Katie L. Carroll

The wee hours of Friday morning. Sirens blare. Heart quickens. Body from dead asleep to pinpoint alert in seconds. I knew this could happen, but it doesn’t make my pulse pound any slower. I feel the hubby—it’s too dark to see—rise next to me. “Here we go,” I say, not exactly sure what we’re in for. I’ve never been in a tsunami before.

Now I’m not going to pretend like this is some harrowing tale of survival. It’s more a tale of apprehension and anxiety with not much dramatic payoff. I wouldn’t even call it a near miss. The hubby and I are alive and safe. Not like so many people in Japan. Still, I think our tale is one worth telling…if only to keep my mind from churning over the events and the television images over and over again. Writing this down is my therapy.

But let me go back to the beginning, where many—certainly not all—stories start. French Polynesia, island of Moorea, Thursday night. Some combination of jetlag, sun exposure, pregnancy—and yes, even the hubby has been extra tired from me being pregnant—and extreme island relaxation has lulled us into slumber at an early hour.

I wake around 10:00 pm to find the movie we were watching has ended, the television screen a blank blue screen. I flip to CNN, one of three English-speaking channels we have. 8.9 earthquake, Japan. My first thought Damn, that’s strong. At the time, I didn’t know that it was the strongest recorded quake in Japanese history. My second thought This is not good. Not good at all. Even a country so prepared for quakes must surely suffer from one so massive.

CNN already has footage of not only the earthquake, but also of a devastating tsunami that hit northeastern Japan. A 10 meter wall of water. Tsunami warnings up for countries all across the Pacific. Then I think Uh, oh. We’re in the middle of the southern Pacific on a tiny island. What does that mean for us?

The last tsunami to hit French Polynesia after the earthquake in Chili in February 2010 was measured in inches. I had looked it up because after I had heard tsunamis had been in the area, I had wanted to make sure my favorite tropical location was still intact. The remote location and the surrounding coral reefs had kept French Polynesia safe, but that didn’t mean we would get through this one unscathed.

I watched the coverage for about 30 minutes, my anxiety level rising with each development. Footage from the CNN newsroom in Tokyo. Deep breaths. Stay calm. Footage of the wave pouring into northeastern Japan. Keep breathing. Calm, cleansing breaths. Tsunami warnings for Russia, Indonesia, Australia, Hawaii, among other countries and islands. French Polynesia isn’t specifically mentioned, but my attempts to stay calm are failing. I’m in a foreign land. On an exposed island. A tsunami may or may not be approaching.

Time to get another opinion on whether or not I’m overreacting. Time to wake the hubby. He doesn’t seem to share my apprehension. Maybe he’s still half asleep; maybe I am overreacting. This annoys me. He’s supposed to be the one to freak out, not calm, collected, take-everything-in-stride me!

“Should we call the front desk?” I ask. “Or go down there and see what’s going on?”

I’m trying to hide my growing fear, to play this as if I’m curious and just want to be prepared, but a million things are running through my head that I don’t say. Do they even know what is going on down at the front desk? Does Moorea have modern tracking equipment for tsunamis? Do they have adequate warning procedures? The water is so close to our room. Will we have to evacuate? What will happen to all our stuff? Will we even know it’s coming, the water rushing in unannounced and we’ll all drown? Was it a huge mistake to come here while pregnant, putting my unborn child at risk?

The hubby seems mildly concerned. His calm demeanor only proves to grate on my already agitated one. He hasn’t been watching the coverage as long as I have. He didn’t see the list of countries under tsunami warnings. He hasn’t let his mind wander to dark places and worse-case-scenarios.

There’s no way I’m sleeping until we find out more information from the resort. I tell the hubby this. He says, “Okay. Let’s walk down to the front desk.”

I’m not sure if he’s humoring me or if he’s also concerned. Either way, I’m relieved to be on my way learning more. The manager at the desk is well informed of the situation. He explains how there are buoys off the coast of the islands that will give us adequate warnings, if we will even need them. He is the picture of calm. He doesn’t think there’s much to worry about. I feel better.

We go back to the room to sleep. We have a solid five hours before the alarms will sound. Sorry to end on a cliffhanger, but I only have limited access to a computer here. You already know that we made it out of this and are safe, so really, I’m not leaving you in that much suspense. Caveat: we are back to our regularly scheduled vacation of enjoying tropical paradise. Massages on Monday!