Captain Obvious

According to a recent CNN article, my job ranks in the top 10 professions that pay the least for the most amount of stress.

No duh.

And for the record, news reporter ranks #4.
And I would KILL for the median salary.

4. News Reporter

Median pay: $32,900
% who say their job is stressful: 62%

Every minute is another deadline for those who report and write the news. While racing against the clock, reporters gather data, conduct interviews and analyze their findings all before writing about major events for a newspaper, magazine, radio show or television program.

So if anyone was wondering about the state of my sanity... it's non-existent. And I couldn't afford a therapist even if I wanted one.

Cheers!

Whiny Wendy

Let me say this:

I am excited to gain a new, bright, AWESOME office through Scott's ongoing renovation project.
I am, however, sick of paint fumes and my MIA husband.

I love my job, I really do. I feel that I am getting better and better at it, especially recently.
I have, however, sold my soul to the paper. And I'd like it back.

I am thankful for all of the wonderful presents we received for our wedding.
But people should know my gratitude is immense. I shouldn't have to write the same message over and over 120 times. And NO(!) I have NOT finished our thank-you cards, despite losing my husband to drywall. I sold my soul, remember?

I am so grateful for friends. I have reconnected with old (not as in age), special ones (bridesmaids, this is you). I have gained fantastic new ones (Emily, Jess). Gotten closer to semi-old ones (Ashley, you're totally in this category!).
Part of me, suddenly, feels like I have this huge disconnect with them now. I don't know what to talk about now that I can't blab about wedding dresses, stepmother's toasts and slideshow catastrophes. We're a married couple renovating our house. And we have nothing to share right now. We're boring. Dull. Tired. Secretive.

I'm actually focused, for the first time ever perhaps, not on the future and definitely not on the past. I'm all present, man. But I think too much. I'm running around in circles and at the top point of that cycle is always a funk.

And seriously, feeling sick for an entire week with NO relief or change of symptoms?! How can a person have no sniffles and no fever and just be blah, achy, tired, tired and TIRED?! What medicine do you take for tired? I'm getting LOTS of sleep -- and I've even napped a time or two. But I feel like crap. My leg randomly went pins-and-needles last night while walking through Lowes (to get items for the renovation project, of course -- for the third time!)... first my ankle, then my shin. It was up to my knee area in the car and when I sat on the couch, it shot up to my crotch. Awesomeness. It was gone this morning, but now I'm just back to the old symptoms -- times about 12 on the horrible scale.

Sorry for Whiny Wendy.
I'll try to bring someone else to the next post. This chick isn't welcome.


** Special thank-you to Jeannine and Ashley for your e-mails today. They were the glorious sunbeams of my cloudy-brain day. I love you both.

Time for the Day Off song

A day off! A day off! A day off!

We all know by now that a day off song means working a weekend, though. So let's take a minute and ponder all of the things Wendy could be doing if she wasn't spending 8 hours google-ing in a cold office 45 minutes away from home until she's so tired she can barely make the drive across back roads and deer-passing zones. Sigh.

OK.

Now let's think happy thoughts and focus on the positive.

There is the lack of an alarm this morning that I thoroughly enjoyed.
And the freedom to facebook stalk for a few minutes -- during normal work hours!

If I get my rear end in gear... like, by stopping things like blogging, silly girl... I will get ready (and by 'get ready' I mean put on jeans and a comfy shirt/jacket and *maybe* do my hair in a way that resembles a style).

Then I am meeting with my mom-in-law for some lunch and chatting. Well, she'll likely do most of the chatting. I'll enjoy the local cafe's huge sandwiches and good soup.

Then I am continuing the process of changing my name. My goal today is the bank and Social Security.

I hope to get home in time to make Scott a loaf of homemade bread to enjoy this evening.

And then? I'm really not sure.

At some point this weekend I am meeting up with my friend Emily while I'm in 'the big city,' so it will be really nice to catch up with her.
I might see my friend Ashley, who just returned from a trip to Florida to see a special guy. I miss my friends! Darned wedding preparations and thank-you cards!

My goal today is to not really do a heck of a lot. I feel like I've been semi-sick for the past few days and despite getting LOTS of sleep last night, I am still exhausted. I don't like being lazy very often, but maybe I need it today.
But I guarantee my day off on Monday will be even lazier.

My only plans for Monday are to meet up (for the first time, which is so weird!) with Jessica (and maybe her hubby) for some good Mexican and catching up in person officially. I'm really looking forward to it! We worked with each other back when I first started at this paper, but it wasn't until the lovely couple was ACROSS AN OCEAN in Germany that we started e-mailing and reading each other's blogs. They are back in the states and, after just celebrating their 5th wedding anniversary, are ready to be friends with a crazy girl like me. :-)

Time to go enjoy...
A DAY OFF!
A DAY OFF!
A DAY OFF! WHOOOOO! (I think it could even be a good drinking song.)

"You just try to keep moving forward..."

 My job never ceases to introduce me to fascinating people.

I interviewed a really sweet family today. A family who oozed strength and love.

My subject for my next spotlight story for the paper is a 79-year-old woman who less than a year ago, following a debilitating stroke around Christmas, was told (well, her family was told), that she may never say anything other than 'yes' or 'no' and that they should prepare for the worst.

Well she really showed them.

She made complete, clear, easy-to-understand sentences during our interview today. Better yet? She knew dates, time periods and names quicker than anyone else in the room. And she had a super sense of humor, too. Gosh, she was so quick!

Her husband kept petting her affectionately, calling her "Mom" and "Babes."
"This is my sweetheart," he said with a smile.

After all they've been through, he said he would do it all over again, because that's just what you do for the "prettiest lady in town."

Gosh, this is love, I thought, in its truest and most beautiful form. To Hell and back and still using pet names and looking at the other person with deep love.

That will be Scott and me in 40 or 50 or 60 years, I thought. No matter the funks, the sorrows, the disappointments, we will be best friends and companions through it all. Because that's how we've made it work so far. And because our friendship is at the core of our relationship and love.

Hit us with your best shot, world. I'd do it all over again if I had to.

Remembering

I never got a chance to blog about my 9/11/09.
I had the awesome professional and personal opportunity to cover the 8th anniversary ceremony at the Flight 93 crash site in Shanksville, Somerset County, PA.

And it was as intense, somber, motivating, deep, bittersweet, hopeful and healing a time as you could imagine.

My press credentials got me up close and personal not only to speakers that included former Secretary of State Colin Powell, but also to family and loved ones of the40 heroes on board that flight. If there's anything I've learned about that flight in my time covering this area, it's that those 40 passengers and crew -- complete strangers when they boarded United Flight 93 -- were NOT victims, but heroes.

I was so impressed and amazed by their loved ones -- who have fought as courageous a battle here on earth as possible, trying to get understanding and recognition. In two years, their success will come in the form of a permanent national memorial at the crash site.

It was a hard day, but an enriching one. I can't wait to cover this in '10 and '11... and more, I hope.


I grew up 40 minutes from the NYC skyline and those two towers crashed down on the world of everyone I went to school with in 2001. We were in lockdown in the building for that day, and maybe, in a way, chained forever to those events. I still can't watch videos from that day without completely falling apart.

I never knew that that tiny field with the "other plane" would become an important part of my career. Nor could I imagine all it would stir up in my soul.

Never forget.




[copyright]

A day off!

I am enjoying a day off -- the first one in a long time that doesn't involve traveling or entertaining (well at least most of the day doesn't include those things).

I took Rocky the cat to the vet today for two shots in his bottom. Aside from his meowing song the entire half hour trip, it went very well.

I came home and chatted with our one neighbor who has been away for a couple of weeks.

I decided to use what little motivation I had in me to trim some bushes, tidy up my pathetic veggie garden, cut and hang some lavender and finish cleaning the house.

Then I went into relax mode, courtesy of America's Next Top Model repeats.

I'm going to make some cookies and then go get my hair trimmed and re-highlighted so it looks lovely in all of Teri's photos next month.

This evening, we will host our pastors at our house for some wedding ceremony plan making and to test our love apparently.

I really needed these couple of hours to just veg out. Work has been a little hectic and some stories really wore me down more than I wanted to admit. I'm glad I hung in there and I'm really proud of the reporter I've become.

With that said, thank the LORD for days off. :-)

I'm baaaaaaack!

I realize that it seems to all my faithful readers (I love both of you, haha) that I have fallen off the face of the earth.

Yes and no.

I went to Jersey and back, had a bachelorette weekend of shenanigans (Hunk-o-Mania in the ghetto anyone?), my first of two bridal showers (second one is this weekend!) and on top of that am making the first of many, many, MANY last-minute wedding plans (dress fittings, ceremony planning and hair-dos, oh my!) while caught in the midst of my coverage area's scandals, increased taxes and a fatal car crash.

Sigh.
In between the 12-hour work days and 45 thank-you cards, I am also trying to maintain a healthy, loving relationship with my soulmate.

And keep my sanity.

And fight off the cold/sickness that has given me a Man Voice for the past two days. I don't know how long until I wave my white flag at the NyQuil bottle. I just hope I make it through Saturday.

Oh, and did I mention my stepmother, sister, 9-year-old niece and 4-year-old nephew are visiting next week?

At the core of it all, however, I am so happy. I am blissfully content with all of the opportunities I have, the good health I've GIVEN MYSELF and the dozens of loved ones who make me feel like a princess.

I missed my blogging and promise to be back regularly very, very soon (with scandalous photos, perhaps?!)

For now, enjoy me and 4 out of 5 of my bridesmaids in Wildwood, NJ, and then us with my niece/junior bridesmaid at the shower. Oh, and a beach shot of me and my flat boobs with my favorite hat of all time in one of my most relaxed moments EVER.

L is for...

Laptop!
Oh, and LOVE.

Scott surprised me this afternoon with a brand-spankin' new, big-screened, hunk of a laptop! He got out of work early and went to the store, perused the aisles and fell in love. Or something like that.

My old personal laptop bit the dust a looooooong time ago. I blame it on the massive amount of photo and music files that collapsed it to Bye-Bye Land. My work laptop was handed down to me in 2007 by the previous bureau reporter -- and she owned it for 5 years! It's been crawling recently and has lost three keys in the past six months. It's quite ghetto-rigged.

"Now you can write the best possible stories," Scott said as I picked my jaw up off the floor earlier today.

It helps to have the best possible partner standing by my side and cheering me on. And supplying me with cool gadgets, too!

Time-out for suckers

Today is a day off of work for me. Usually, I would be elated for some make-up-less days in pj's or sweats, with nothing on the agenda but a good book or a couple of items on the to-do list. But I'm half-ticked this time because my day off is the result of being semi-suckered into working Saturday, a day when I was planning on going home to NJ and spending it at a family picnic with my aunt, whose birthday is Sunday.

I guess it just wasn't meant to be.
Or I'm just a sucker.

I've already tackled one thing on my to-do list, and that involved sleep -- and lots of it. After Internet-ing it for a little bit, it's time to close the laptop lid and move far, far away -- you know, to downstairs or something.

I've had a pile of books on the floor next to my bed that I look longingly at every night. Hopefully I can at least cradle one of those in my hands for a bit today.

If the weather stays decent (dark, menacing clouds are overhead currently) I may tackle the weeds that I have successfully been growing in my gardens. And if I can figure out how to turn on the lawn mower, I may just get that out of the way for Scott.
Or maybe not.

::Does rain dance::

Hopefully Scott and I can get some time together tonight, although this morning he was already rattling off who we can invite over and what we can do tonight. Sigh. Is it too much to ask for a little one-on-one time that doesn't involve household chores?

Tomorrow, Scott has a day-long bachelor party for one of his childhood friends who's getting married next month and who will be a groomsman at our wedding.

And I'll be...
working. YUCK.
Although If I get out of the office in time, I just might make the wife-to-be's bachelorette party.

I vote for a nap.

It's municipal election day.
And my coverage area is eerily quiet.

Since I've been covering this region, we've had faulty machines, really extreme turnout numbers, highly-contested races and even a recall. (No hanging chads though).
This year... nothing.

I'm leaving shortly to find some cutesy mini-stories from different polling places and am praying for a simple, quiet day. I fear I may wind up posting results online in the office 40 minutes away or at my county seat writing down results until midnight or later.

Sigh.

Too big a weenie for the job

Every few months, a story comes along that I just can't shake -- even after the last line is written and the story is printed on the page.

Last summer, it was a murder trial -- seeing the young children of a murder victim take the stand is an image I still recall too vividly. And the way the daughter cried when a verdict was finally reached.

In January, a trooper from that very trial killed himself in an intersection of my coverage area. I had had lunch with him, chatted with him, heard about his kids. And then I watched his cruiser towed from the last place he took a breath.

Yesterday and today, I worked on a story honoring/remembering an 18-year-old who died at a local school. He died after celebrating St. Patricks Day and we unfortunately gave his family a final tribute that consisted of a headline with the words "drugs" and "booze." Needless to say, they were devastated, and I've uttered a lot of apologies. And I've listened to a heck of a lot of stories from friends and family, who all talk about his beautiful smile and the way he would make others around him feel important and special. All these stories from someone 7 years younger than me, with a large and bright future ahead of him.

I can't shake that smiling face from picture in my e-mail. I can't ignore the grieving aunt who said the family is barely holding it together. I'm haunted by the best friend who said he just doesn't know what he'll do without his buddy.

I like to think that my connection to my subjects and the stories I share makes me a better reporter than most, able to capture emotional details that make the reader feel like they're there too.

But it comes with a price.

Sleepless nights, horrible dreams, black circles under my eyes and that darned "funk."

But I wake up the next day, take a deep breath and remind myself that I am making a difference, somewhere, and perhaps only to one person.

That's enough for me.

What is bravery?

Well, I realize it's been far too long since my last entry. It's been as much about nothing to say and too much to say and still, despite 100 entries here, a bit of nerves.

I've just been going through an up-and-down time for a while, but I think I've got things -- and myself -- all figured out now. At least for a while. :-)

One of the biggest developments recently was showcased in Sunday's paper -- a column by yours truly, delving into my struggles with anorexia and bulimia. It was undeniably the most frightening thing I've ever done, but once the story was sent, and even more when it was printed, I felt such a relief.

I realized that if I could tell thousands of strangers my stories, I ought to be able to share with my family and friends, most of whom had no idea of the seven years of battle I fought.

The response has been overwhelming. Friends, family and even some co-workers have sent messages of support -- words like bravery, strength, courage, etc. I appreciate it, but really, what is bravery?

To me, bravery is overcoming my eating disorder. Weakness takes over the rest of me. If I was so brave, I wouldn't have suffered and cause suffering for so long. If I was strong, I wouldn't have put my life at risk.

What I did to myself is irreversible. What I did through my column was not bravery. It was a silent prayer that someone out there will read it, like I read a freshman's story at Syracuse University in 2003, clip it out, cut it out or tear it out and share it with a friend or loved one. (I pasted mine into one of my journals.)

I feel weak for never telling the people I loved.

Some people have sent me their own stories. Two friends that I don't get to see often enough shared their own stories -- one's battle with suicidal thoughts and another with anorexia. I was shocked and yet comforted at the same time.

My Aunt Alice took it hard, realizing in hindsight some of the warning signs. I told her it was not her fault by any means, but I'm not sure if the pain I've caused her is worth the comfort to myself and some mysterious strangers out there. She sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers today, with a note that read how much I was loved and how proud she and my uncle are of me. When I asked her what the occasion was, she said: The 'occasion' is that we love you and are so proud of you. Your 'coming out' was very inspirational for both of us...because "if Wendy can do what she did, so can I".

I don't want to be a superhero. But I'll take inspiration.

There's a potential for a series to be developed out of this and I couldn't be happier.

It's funny - I wanted to be a journalist so that I could make a difference and tell a story. I never thought my proudest moment so far would come through my own story.

It's like a hazy dream.

I don't want to wake up.

When bad cell service can cost you your life...

Remember the old man I was going to interview for a story who wanted to talk for at least two hours and who cut a lot of wood?

I met with him today.

After I drove past his house, thinking, "Oh Lord, it CAN'T be that one," I had to turn around and go, "Oh CRAP, it IS that one."

When I pulled into the driveway, he quickly shook my hand and pointed toward his car, which I then noticed was running.

"Get in, I have to show you something," he says.

This is where I begin to freak out. I have only communicated by phone and e-mail and if you were to judge a book by its cover, this cover being his house, I was definitely the girl who needs to run away in the horror movies.

I grabbed my phone, notebook and pen and camera and lock my car with a silent prayer as well as a click of the keychain.

Just as the car pulls out of the driveway, I realize I'm not going to have cell phone service for at least 10 miles.

"This is where I die," I thought, holding onto the car door with my fingernails. "Maybe I can etch my name and the time in the door..."

The drive actually turns out to be a historical tour of an area I'm writing about for my Sunday story and it's pretty fascinating. This man has obviously spent his entire life learning about the people before him and places around him.

There were a couple of odd moments, however.

For instance, "I shot a big buck in 1956 from 1,000 yards away right around by that farm there."

And the killer:
"I have to pull over here real quick," he says as he pulls the car to the side of a DESERTED, DIRT road.

"NOW is when he stabs me and dumps me in the woods," I think.

Nope.

"I have to pee," the old man says. "You know, take care of business and stuff."

And he limped out of the car and peed. On my side of the vehicle.

All I know is...

... I am so glad this week is nearly over. More so than any other Friday, I've found myself peeking up at the clock in my office every few minutes or so, wishing and hoping that somewhere along the line, the cute lil hour hand flew down to the "5" or something. No such luck.

It's just been a roller coaster ride this week. Some highlights:

- Thinking I was going to lose my job like soooo many other people in the industry (and at my paper) this week.
- Not losing my job.
- Gaining a larger coverage area to keep an eye on.
- Getting my engagement ring back after having it re-sized. Whooo! It's gorgeous!
- Talking with "gemela." TWICE!
- Being a complete bitch to Scott on numerous occasions.
- Watching new addition Proud make huge steps, literally -- up the steps!
- My many meltdowns.

The sun'll come out to-morrow...

:-)

Phone conversation with perspective interviewee

I called this lovely older gentleman to set up a meeting time tomorrow for a story I'm working on.

Phone rings, wife (presumably) answers.
Wife: Hello?
Me: Hi, may I speak with (old man) please?
Wife: Who's this?
Me: My name is (me), I'm with the (newspaper).
Wife: (shouting) Hey, (unacknowledgeable pet name, I presume), Wendy from the (newspaper) is on the phone for you. To me: Can you hang on a few minutes?
Me: Oh sure, no problem.
In the background is a lot of banging, huffing and puffing. The two appear to be having a lovely conversation about politics, perhaps, while I wait on the phone.
Old man: Hello?
Me: Hi, this is (me) from the (newspaper). Did I catch you at a bad time?
Old man: The question is, is this a good time for you?
*I pause, wondering if I would have called the man at a bad time for myself.
Me: (lying) No, this is fine. I have all the time in the world. I won't be long, I just wanted to set up an interview time, possibly tomorrow morning?
Old man: (definitely not answering the question.) Yeah, well I'm retired.
*Pause*
Old man: Only thing that keeps me busy is choppin' up the firewood.
Me: Well, I'm sure this cold weather makes that a bit of a necessity, eh? ::chuckle, chuckle::
Old man: (not responding to my lame joke) Any time you come by will be just fine. How much time do you have to spare for meetin' up with me?
Me: (thinking, oh I can imagine maybe 30 minutes is all it takes) ...well, I probably only need...
Old man: (cutting me off) 'Cause I think I'll have at least two hours' worth, from when you get there, more or less.
*I almost pee my pants. TWO HOURS, dude???
Me: (through clenched teeth) OK, sir, that should be fine. And I have directions to your house...
Old man: Yep, just look for the firewood.
*I start to wonder, just how much firewood does this guy have??
Old man: How old are you?
Me: (no longer surprised by the breaking of etiquette in these parts) 25. (OK, I will be in a month!)
Old man: Yep, that's just about right.
(What does that mean????!!!)
Old man: 25. *pause* OK, see you tomorrow then. G'bye.
CLICK.

WHAT???