madshutterbug (madshutterbug) wrote,

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What (or Who) Is Up With This?

It's 03:20, I woke up about an hour ago with that definitive feeling that no, I wasn't going to be getting back to sleep soon, and got up because of it. Back is a bit sore for reasons I'll go into, but not bad. Still, took some ibuprofin because of it. Bright moon again tonight, but it doesn't shine directly into our bedroom window, so that's not it either (or, well, maybe not). It's quiet out, the Border Collie Bros are not barking. Eh.

There are a few folk on the FList who know us in meat-space, and so know that Ruthann = SWMBO = Carmenetta, as that last is the name she uses when playing in The Knowne World of the SCA. Four or five years ago, when we opened our house to a friend who needed to move out of Daytona Beach, we also purchased a small (relatively: 288 square feet) outbuilding. The room our new housemate would need was serving as R's sewing room, and the new building quickly became known as Carmenetta's Cottage. This, in no small part because she was also starting up a mail-order business and we were building her a web site to go with that, called Carmenetta's Cottage.

Before crunch time arrived, I'd gotten the building wired for electricity, insulated about 3/4 around the walls, and paneling put up along the back and one side wall. Then R moved in and set up business. Over the years since, she's added some more insulation, but we still need to finish the ceiling and paneling the rest of the walls. Oh, and the end which will be an enclosed closet needs insulation too; all that garb hanging there serves somewhat as insulation, but needs must be finished.

So today (Friday) I cut out 13 sections of 2x4 which serve as cross-ties to fasten said ceiling to and co-incidentally pretty much convert the rafters to trusses. All but two are in place, the two remaining being the ones against the outside walls. All of them still need to have tie-plates attached to increase structural integrity. We aren't getting this place inspected (it's an existing structure, and I'm not changing anything with the electic wireing, so it's not necessary to get inspected), but we do want the place to have a fighting chance to stand up against more hurricanes. Last year convinced us (not that we, both of us long-term Florida resident's, needed convincing). Finishing that part is on for today (Saturday). Well, at least the tie-plates. Then we're off to purchase the paneling we'll be using for the ceiling.

That's the why for the back aching a bit.

There's more to come; we salvaged several book shelf/tables from a local Books a Million store when our friend Wolfmother was renovating it (her job at the time; she still works with BaM, but as a store manager now, not Renovations Project Manager). Out in the Cottage are a three foot by four foot unit and a four foot square unit. R is of the opinion that the four foot square unit is too big for the space. In a storage shed, fondly called the Kura, are another three by four unit and another four foot square unit. Once we're done putting up ceiling, the two four foot square units will move into Studio 318, and the other three by four unit will move into the Cottage.

All of them need to be up on casters. I've enough casters on hand (salvaged from truly defunt units, same source) for two of them. For the other two, well, I'll just need to purchase some. Excuse for a road trip to one of our favorite stores *sigh* oh my. R uses her units for pattern layout and cutting fabric. I'll be using one unit (at least) for small object photography, and the other for the mat cutting station.

In the meantime, fabric, sewing machines (yes, plural), and other supplies are being packed up and stored in one end room of Studio 318 so that we have room to do this work in the Cottage. Well, in Studio 318 and in another outbuilding, a smaller kura than the Kura and newer.

I suppose that's why the back will continue aching for a bit.

On a totally separate note, after all that labor and after finishing more laundry (the never ending story), while folding laundry I got started thinking about something else. There are no other nurses (i.e. Registered Nurses or Licensed Practical Nurses {some states have different names for the latter} ) on my FList. But there are some RN's on the FLists of my FList. Wow, that's way too subtle for oh-dark-thirty-insomnia.

Anyway. That particular thought started me reflecting again that while I did not grow up planning to be an RN, I would not trade my profession for anything, because of the Joy of it. Yes, there's a lot which isn't joyful, but so it is with all employment situations. And there is Joy in being someone who does serve as a pivot point for others. A friend of mine, happens to live in Birmingham, England, and who recently shifted from the practice of Nursing to the practice of Law (has a daughter, needs to put her through college, wasn't going to happen on pay scales for RN's in England), still maintains his nursing license. His comment: He unequivocacally recommends Nursing as a profession, but one needs to be aware that one will not become financially wealthy in the practice of Nursing.

I do like to play with words, and these next two word-games came out of both the love of words, and the love of Nursing. Read if you want to.

The Call

Someone must die
When I am called
In the wee hours.

Arise from slumber
And dash pell-mell
To practice nursing
In surgical suite, there
Treat a Crisis; in Chinese, a

Or Opportunity
For family to over-
Turn tragedy in
   of heart
   or lung
   or more
To: some unknown
Anonymous need
From: one intimate treasure
Now beyond needing.

And, with this
Title to Previously Owned Organ, a
Lottery ticket, the jackpot
One more (day...? year...? Lifetime...) with
   son, daughter,
   mother, father,
   husband, wife.
Oh, bittersweet life,

When someone dies
And I am called
In the wee hours.

January 20, 2000

Two Margaret

Front teeth claimed
  by the Tooth Fairy,
She road into my
O.R. astride her stretcher
  like you
Sitting dressage.
   Red hair like you
And the Name she wore
 you used
When last we met,

I never expected
   meeting you again,
much less
   as a six-year old.

June 23, 1993

And that's what you get when Mad Shutterbug gets insomnia.

Tags: art, meditative

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