Cecelia On The Train

Happy Father's Day!

2008-06-15T17:56:00.000-07:00

Happy Father's day to my dad, and all the other dad's out there.

Today I met up with my dad in the city to take him to lunch. I wanted to take him to a baseball game today as it's the Bay Bridge Series, the Giants and the A's are playing each other, but I thought of this a bit too late and wasn't able to get tickets for the game. It was sold out a long time ago. Apparently a lot of others had this idea and they did think about it before me because there were lots of Father & Son's on Bart as I rode it to the city. A's and Giant's T-shirts, hats, jackets, everything. Although I am a fan of both...if I had gotten tickets and was going I would be in a Giants shirt. Dad taught us at an early age to root for the Giants!

Apparently so did a lot of other fathers, grandfathers...and they were all on Bart. It was great. There was one particular father/son that stood out. Dad must have been in his 80's and walked with a cane, like my dad, and the son was probably in his 40's like me. It was just the two of them and they both looked like they would have rather been no place else but in each other's company.

I guess I timed things just right because when I left Union Square, the return train home was full of fans heading home. That same father/son couple was on the same train I was for the return trip. I haven't watched the news so I have no idea who one, but if you spend the day with your dad, ball game or no ball game, it doesn't matter who lost, because everyone's a winner.

Happy Father's Day Dad. I love you!

Are you missing a citizen?

2008-06-12T13:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Ruler of Planet Jerk,

Are you missing a citizen? Because if you are, he was riding BART here on Earth yesterday morning. He managed to take up three seats on a packed morning commute train. His voice, his loud voice was the only voice heard on the train that morning. While the rest of us sat quietly reading our newspapers, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep or just enjoy the usually quiet ride to our jobs, he managed to make at least 10 calls on his cell phone and laughed at the callers on the other end because they were still sleeping. Of course the laughter included lots of cussing, swearing and calling them names that we don’t yell out loud in public places here on Earth. I feel especially bad for one of the several women he called. Apparently she tried to inform him of the Earthly custom of not making phone calls to “friends” before 8:00 am. I only caught his end of the conversation which included something along the lines of “well hell, I’m not fucking married to you”. I’d be surprised if any woman on our planet (or any other planet) would ever want to be married to him, let alone fuck him.

I, along with many others, would appreciate if you would call him back to his home planet, along with any (and all) traveling with him. While you are at it, would you please stop issuing passports for travel for all your citizens.

Sincerely yours,

Cecelia Liss
Earthling

mov'n on

2008-06-06T13:47:00.000-07:00

Mom, I miss you like crazy and could write about you forever, but it's time to get back to my blog....

Good news, they opened up the new BART parking structure and I HAVE RESERVED PARKING!!! It's costing me more than double the daily lot price, but I don't have the fear of getting there after 7:30 am on a Tuesday and not being able to find a parking spot. The $63.00 a month is a cheap price for piece of mind, well maybe not cheap but piece of mind none the less.

The first three days I was able to park in the one of the first 4 slots on both sides of the aisle. Now I'm getting there and parking in about the 10th slot. Either it's catching on or I'm pushing it how late I can get there before I really have to run to the train and people are beating me to the first spots, or others have signed up the reserved parking too. With the price of gas at $4.35 a gallon I'm sure more and more people are taking BART or will be soon. Either way, I'm a happy camper. Oh and bonus - this summer when it's 105 degrees in Pleasanton, my car will be parked in the shade.

I've noticed in the past 2 weeks that more and more people on the train smell like pot. Has my nose become more sensative or are the pot smokers of the world spending their money on pot and BART rather than pot and gas for their car? Has anyone else noticed this too. I can understand it a bit more on the ride home, but come on people, it's 7:30 am for christ sakes...and you smell like you just lit up!

Enough for now, but I'll be back...

May 1, 2008

2008-05-16T08:50:00.000-07:00

I stare at the calendar and I can't wait for May to be over with. May 1 stands out and I can't wait to not have to look at anymore. Mom died that day, a few minutes after noon. It's so hard not seeing her always welcoming smile and hearing her voice. The last time I heard her speak was on Tuesday April 22. I miss her.

Here is the link to her obituary I wrote if you care to read it.

http://www.legacy.com/MarinIJ/DeathNotices.asp?Page=Lifestory&PersonId=109286638

If I knew how to post a link with just a click, I would, but I don't, so you'll have to copy and paste it in. I just don't feel like learning how to do it today.

Please feel free to leave a comment on the guest book there.

We buried her next to her mom, my grandmother, in Cary, IL on Monday May 12th. It was a really beautiful day, having rained the day before. All my cousins were there, thank you all for coming. Someone counted and I think there were 68 family members there. I hope to see them all again, under happier circumstances....someone get married. We need a reason to celebrate.

It was wonderful seeing all my mom's brothers. They were all born in the Philipine Islands and the stories about them growing up during the war are just now starting to be told. All of us cousins want to hear them. I saw first cousins that I hadn't seen in years. I don't know someone them all that well, but I think that will change. I can't wait to get to know more about them and grow closer. I can't even begin to count all their kids and grandkids. Yes, grandkids! How can we our generation have grandkids? We are just kids ourselves. But I guess with Mom gone, my siblings and I are the old generation when it comes to our immediate family. Scary thought. I'm not ready to be that yet. That was Mom's position. She was good at it, she had all the answers, she knew how to do it.

I didn't know how to do something the other night. Mom would have. And I couldn't call her to ask. Be it knitting, baking certain items, family receipes, she was the keeper and she left before she taught me everything I'm suppose to know. I miss her

somthing a bit deeper

2008-05-01T08:21:00.001-07:00

When I first started blogging about Mom rather than the commute, I said that this was to be a place for me to vent how I'm feeling inside. Well I have to an extent, but today I need to use it attempt to justify what's going on inside of me.

Tuesday's emotional roller coaster can not be describe in words. Thinking we were going to lose her those couple of times a day took a lot out of me. I didn't realize it till this morning when I woke up and laid in bed thinking. I got home Tuesday night, exhausted, and was talking to my boyfriend Mark about the day. I hadn't hit the wall yet, until he made a comment that I would have normally not really thought to much about, but that night after he said it I couldn't get upstairs fast enough to bury my head in my pillow and let it all out. It wasn't anything awful he said, I think if he had something as simple as "great weather", it would have had the same effect.

That was the first time I've really cried. Sure through all of this tears have streamed down my face and my throat was too chocked up to talk and I was on the verge of loosing it, but not to the extend of sobbing, I held it back, but Tuesday night it finally came, and I haven't cried since. Did I get it all out of me? With all the time that has past, have I become desensitized? Or has it just gotten easier? Is the shock of all this wearing off and I'm less emotional about it? Or have all my raw nerve endings begun to heal already, even before it's really over?

I'm here with Mom and my sister this morning. Her blood pressure is at 94 over 60. She's running a slight fever, but she's holding her own. Day 9. Pretty incredible for someone they weren't sure would make the ambulance ride here.

fooled again

2008-04-29T13:52:00.000-07:00

Well twice this morning my mom has fooled everyone. When the nurse called me this morning telling me it was very close, she didn’t think I would get here on time. I did. About 2 hours later after I arrived they gave mom the anxiety med and her breathing changed completely. It was about 45 seconds between breathes, each breath was a struggle and all the nurses came in to hold our hands and be with us and mom. 2 hours later Nancy and I gave up and went to lunch, thinking maybe she wanted to wait till we left the room. We ate at the Italian place close by. As we were finishing up lunch, the background music playing was Ave Maria, one of my Mom’s favorite songs. We took that as a sign and rushed back here. At this point we think she is hanging on for another 2 days so she’ll get another social security check….

That's Amore

2008-04-27T21:59:00.000-07:00

It's 10:00 pm on Sunday and I just got back from Bruns House, the Hospice facility that my mom is at. I am feeling really good inside. Mom is still with us and was able to be with me on one of the most incredible nights of my life. It was my sister Nancy, my mom and me, the three of us together in her room. Nancy had picked up a cd of Dean Martin's greatest hits for mom, so we played it. Not only did we play it, but we sang, we danced and even though my mom couldn't participate with us, I've never felt more closer to either one of them. It was awesome. I'm sure the other people that at Bruns house may have felt differently, but for those 2 hours, the world revolved around just three of us. I feel kind of bad for the family of the gentleman across the hall, as they were giving him last rites, we were belting out an interesting rendition of That's Amore. He is of my mom's generation, so I'm hoping be enjoyed it too.

If mom passes tonight, I'll feel good about how the three of us celebrated her life tonight. As horrible as Nancy and I both sing, there was nothing but happiness and love in the room tonight. I didn't cry on the way home, in fact I smiled the entire way. I can go to sleep tonight without tears and sleep knowing it was a happy night that I'll never forget and will remember always. Be at peace Mom, I love you.

the night

2008-04-27T10:20:00.000-07:00

It's hardest at night, leaving Mom's side, saying goodbye for the night, and not knowing if she'll still be with us in the morning. I cry all the whole drive home thinking that might have been my last goodbye to her. I go home exhausted, even though I haven't done anything but sit by here side all day. I did manage to leave yesterday for a couple of hours. Just because Mom is in the hospital, the laundry doesn't do itself. My oldest son has been incredible and hasn't wanted to leave her side. None of us do, but life goes on for us and we need a good night's rest to be with her the following day. We have the option of spending the night there with her, but we've decided we are better off in our own beds, no matter how difficult sleep comes for us.

My cell phone is right by my side all night long, waiting for the phone call, but it has yet to come. I'm greatful, but it's a selfish greatful. She is in so much pain and she is ready to die. We've all said our I Love You's and good byes, but each time we see a smile on her face that she knows we are there, it's like one more gift from her to us. And I cherish them with all my heart.

a simple nod of the head

2008-04-23T22:17:00.000-07:00

It seems like a month ago since I last wrote that blog about my mom, even though it was just on Monday, two days ago. Well that's where my thoughts still are. On Tuesday we moved her from the hospital to the most incredible Hospice House. Tuesday, yesterday, which already seems like a lifetime ago, was an emotionally exhausting day. That morning in the hospital mom was coherent, she would say a few words to us, but you could tell she was in lot of pain. The hospital, as wonderful as they all were there was in incredibly difficult place to be. She didn't have a private room, it was loud, noisy and anything but peaceful. The hospital social worker (at least I think that's what her title is) contacted Hospice on our behalf and they met with us that morning. After meeting with them for about 1/2 an hour, my sister and I decided to move Mom to their facility. We were very nervous about her surviving the short 4 mile drive there. That afternoon before the ambulance came, the hospital Chaplin came in and spoke with her. He also talked to us which was comforting, even though I never really considered myself a religious person. Spiritual yes, but not religious.

My sister asked if I would be the one to ride with her. How could I say no, even though I was very afraid about seeing her in the extra pain I knew she would be in and even more scared about her not surving the ride. It was my duty as her daughter and a chance to be there for her. They gave her extra morphine before we left.

The ride there was easy, but after we arrived and they were moving her into her room you could see how much pain she was in and how much anxiety she had. My sister and I were at her side trying to comfort her. The nurses there gave her more morphine and we had the chance to talk before it took complete effect. Many I love you's were said, the tear flowed as she told us she had little left. We held her hand and tried to be strong. I don't know what's worse, saying goodbye or seeing her in so much pain.

About 9:00 she finally seem comfortable. And we were somewhat comfortable. I can't begin to describe the incredible facility she is at. It's called The Bruns House and it's located in Alamo, CA. It's like being in hotel. They only have 6 beds for patients and at the time they only have four patients there. The room is really nice. It's cheerful, quiet and very welcoming. There rest of the place is equally as nice. It's like walking into a really nice home. A beautiful dinning room and living room, a full kitchen, the grounds are landscaped. It just feels right.

I left at about 9:45 in a completely exhausted state. Mom was finally out of pain, thanks to morphine and lorezepam. I got home and finally collapsed about 11:00. I was back there at about 7:30 this morning. Mom was pretty unresponsive as she was the night before. Occasionally her mouth would move and her eye brows would show expression. But no words were said. The day before when we spoke with the Chaplin, he told us a bit on what to expect. He had mentioned that sometimes it would be a while between breaths. Well he was right. At one point we were both just looking at her and she took a breath. It was a really long time before she took her next one. Unbenost to the two of us, my sister and were both mimicking her breathing patterns, when she finally took another breath, my sister and I both gasped for air, looked at each other and laughed and said it was time to turn the TV on. At 9:00 they came in to bathe her and change her sheets so I decided to go to work for a couple of hours while my sister stayed with her.

I was back at her side at 1:15. I was able to log onto the Internet there and was answering email from work and trying to get a little work done. The priest we had wanted to come see her came by that afternoon. Of my Mom's three children, I was probably the one with the least religious upbringing. But I am so glad that I was the one there when he did the last rites. They say that the hearing is the last sense to leave you. I know my mom heard every word and felt all the tenderness that Father Ray put into it. It was beautiful and I'm glad I was there to experience it with her. Mom, I hope you are proud that I remembered all the words to the Lord's Prayer! You taught me well.

Later this evening our friend Meiwei came to visit. If my mother had had a third daughter, it would be Meiwei. Her and I sat in my mom's room and just talked. Well, more than talked, we laughed, we told stories. It wasn't to just each other, but my mom was included in the conversation. Most would start off as "Hey Mom, remember when..." The only thing missing was my mom answering us. About 9:00 I looked over and said to Mom something like "Mom, isn't it great remembering the good times" and she responded by nodding her head and smiling. I can't begin to explain the joy and happiness that filled my heart. We know all along that she was listening and understanding and being a part of our conversation, and she proved it to us. I didn't tear up all night until then, but the tears that streamed down my face were tears of happiness, joy and pure love.

It's on the drive home tonight that it hit me. Will this be the last time I get a smile and nod? Will she still know that I'm in the room with her tomorrow? Tonight she was so with me and it felt so good. I know she only has a day or two left in her. I'm not ready for her to leave me. Yes I want her to be pain free. She is ready to go and we have talked about it. She's told me so, and I've told her that it's okay to go. I tell her this because I love her and want her to be at peace. But I can't imagine her not always being there for me. If you only knew the smile and twinkle in her eyes that can light up a whole room. I don't want her to die. I want my mom.

a different direction for a while

2008-04-21T09:37:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone,

For the next week or however long it takes, I'll be taking this blog in a different direction temporarily. My mom is ill and we don't expect her to make it. So I need to use this blog at an outlet for what I'm feeling inside. I'm not one to cry, especially in front of other people, so I need to use this as a source of letting go all I am feeling inside me right now.

I came in late to work today because I had to stop at the hospital this morning. Yes, I had to.

Let's go back four weeks ago yesterday. It was Easter Sunday. I picked up my mom at the Independent Living facility she was living at. She could shower by herself, dress herself, feed herself, walked without any assistants, she was very independent despite some dementia. She did have problems managing her medication, so the decesion was made to move her into the assisted living wing there. Essentially it's exactly the same as before, the only difference was that they come by first thing in the morning and make sure the take their medication, and then again at night. Easter was wonderful. The family together on a beautiful spring day.

Now lets go back three weeks ago. My Mother's 80th birthday. We all met at McCovey's restaurant in Walnut Creek. Growing up we had seasons tickets to the SF Giants and mom has always been a baseball fan, especially of the Giants. We had a wonderful day and toasted her and her birthday was a round of beers. The moment of the day was when my mom realized she was 80. The look on her face was priceless She thought she was 78. Funny thing, Im 47 and I keep thinking I'm 35. Guess her and I are more alike all the time.

Now go 2 weeks back. My cell phone rings at 7:23 in the morning. I ususally don't answer that early on a Sunday morning, but I did. I saw my sister's name on the call waiting and new something was wrong. She told me that Eskaton, the facility where my mom lives, had call, they found Mom on the floor and in a lot of pain. They had called an ambulance and it was on it's way to take her to the Emergency Room. An hour later I'm walking into Kaiser in Antioch where my sister is waiting for me. Mom has a broken hip. I'm not going to go into all the details that went on there, but surgery was performed that night.

The next Thursday she is transferred to an Assisted Nursing facility in Walnut Creek. When I visit her there, the twinkle is still in her, but not shinning as brightly as ususal. Fast forward to Tuesday April 15, I get a call from the facility and Mom's lab work has come back out of whack. Her white blood count is at 38 when normal is about 9. She is lethargic and they are taking her Kaiser in Walnut Creek. My sister goes that night. I picked the wrong night to have a couple of cocktails after dinner and didn't feel comfortable driving up there safely.

The next morning I get there at 8 am and she is still in emergency as they don't have a bed for her. I hold her hand, tell her how much I love her. She calls me by my sister's name and tells me how much she hurts. At this point she has pnemonia, a blood infection and her kidneys are workning as they should be. There is no twinkle in her eyes. I stay with her for a while till my sister gets there, then I go to work and just barely go through the motions as my desk.

I'm there again that night after work, and she is more aware and recognized that I'm there. Occasionally she manages a smile, but she is still obviously in a lot of pain.

At this point I don't think she has eaten a full meal since the surgery. She went in weighing about 80 pounds, but I can tell she's gotten even smaller. I try to see her everynight. Friday I didn't make it because of a commitment I had in the city. Thank God for my sister who lives about 15 minutes from the hospital and is able to go buy 2 or 3 times a day.

When I get there on Saturday her blood is still out line. Her white blood count is in the mid 20's even after having blood tranfusions. The only words she speaks over and over to me are "help me, help me Cecelia" "I just want to die, please help me". I try to tell her that I'm doing all I can for her. That I love her and that it's in God's hands. She has a constant thirst that she can't seem to quench. She isn't strong enough to sip through a straw, so we all take turns holding the cup up to her lips. Everyone is there with her today, me, my sister and her husband, a very good friend of the family, my ex-husband and his new wife. Later in the day my oldest son arrives from Roseville.

It's absolutely horrible seeing my mom in this much pain. We call for the Dr. and he tells us there isn't a lot he can. They giving her pain medication but it isn't enough to keep her comfortable and she isn't responding to any of the other medications. At her age and in her conditions they really don't want to give her to much more morphine.

My sister and her husband, me and my ex-husband who adores my mom as much as she adores him, his new wife and I all meet in a conference room to talk. We've all held my mom hand's and heard her wishes and see the pain and suffering she is undergoing. We have her wishes that she had made up with attorney years ago about how she doesn't want life prolonged if it isn't going to be a life worth living. After lots of tears and talk, the decesion is made to put her on a morphin drip and to discontinue the other medications that aren't really working.

They give her another shot of morphine before I leave and she seems a little more comfortable. I kiss her, tell her how much I love her and that I'll see her in the morning.

The next morning my youngest son went with me to visit. My sister and my oldest son were already there. The morphine drip was in place and she was pretty much asleep the whole time I was there. Her eyes would open and she would say a few words before closing her eyes again. I'd brush her hair, stroke her arm for her face and just let her know I was there. After a few hours I had to leave to drive my son to work. We said good bye and as I kissed her good bye and said I'll see you later, she opened her eyes and said "See you when you get get here". The tears in my eyes were for joy. Those moments of clairty with her get me through the day.

I go back that night and sit down next to her. My sister came in a few moments later. Mom woke up enough to talk with us. So for 5 - 10 minutes we talked. The sparkle in her eyes was so strong and alive. I left that night feeling very peaceful.

At my visit this morning, well she was pretty much asleep. She'd open her eyes and look at me, but then drift back into a drug induced sleep. I spoke to the nurse and I guess she was uncomfortable during the night so they up'd her morphine. I think she knows I was there, but I'm counting the minutes till I leave work so I can be there again with her.

I'm not going to bother running the grammer or spellcheck, these words are just coming out of my hands from my heart, so please excuse any errors, but I really don't care.

I'll check back in and let you know how she's doing, or maybe it's more like how I'm doing.

Sitting in a Sea of Denim

2008-04-18T14:05:00.000-07:00

I see jeans, it must be Friday

Without looking at a calendar, or checking the date on my morning newspaper, it’s almost possible for me to predict the date of the week it is by the morning BART riders’ wardrobes. Today is Friday and the train is full of denim…thank you Casual Friday! On Monday, its business casual - not to extreme casual, but far more casual than Tuesday and Wednesday. On Tuesday and Wednesday people are dressed up and I see more suits on men and women in more conservative dresses. Thursdays it’s a little more casual than Monday, but not too many people in jeans. Then Friday rolls around and everyone is in jeans. Sure there are the occasional suits, but I’d like to think they either must be going to court or have a hot date that night they are trying to impress and don’t have time to go home and change.

Then there is the footwear game. It’s easier to play this game with the men. I’ve often heard the saying you can tell a lot about a man by his shoes. It is so true. Take for example the man who sat in front of me the other day, Man A. I’d say he was in his mid to late 40’s, good looking. He had on a really nice gray suit. He carried a canvas type messenger bag and shoes that would have looked better with Dockers or dressier jeans. Not exactly suit shoes, but they still looked nice, just a little more casual. With the looks of his suit, I would have pegged him for the leather briefcase and black shinier and dressier shoes to go with the suit he had on. The seat next across from him was open. Since this is the first stop of the train (Dublin/Pleasanton) we sit at the station for about 10 minutes each morning before the train heads out. Another gentleman, Man B entered the train and took the open seat across from Man A. Man A looks over and calls out Man B’s name. Man B turns and looks at Man A and says “I didn’t recognize you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit!” Man A answers with “Yeah, I clean up really well. And it’s not my suit; I have a meeting to go to with a prospective client so I went out and rented it”. Can I call it or what! I knew something was wrong between the shoes/briefcase and the suit! Man A’s personality fit his shoes exactly, and the suit didn’t.

It’s not that I’m a fashion snob, I just can tell a lot about a person by their shoes. This works for women too, but not on BART. I love shoes. High heeled shoes. The higher the heel the better. But I have to transfer trains and on that second train each morning and night the train is packed when I get on it and I have to stand. It’s not easy to stand on a packed train in high heels with all the stopping and starting. Even holding on to a railing I’ve come close to falling over when wearing anything but flat shoes. So I wear flats….cute flats.

Most of the women on BART commuting to work are in flat shoes. Some in sneakers, some in flip flops, but mostly in the ballerina type shoes that are so popular these days. They do carry a bag of some sort that has their other shoes in them. I know that my flat shoes don’t represent how I usually look. It’s a necessity rather a statement describing me. Anyone who knows me, if asked would say that if shoes had a personality, I’d be a high heel shoe personality…plus the fact that I’m short and feel better about the 2-3 inches that heels add to my height.

What does your commute wardrobe say about you?

I'm back....and riding the rails daily

2008-03-24T20:15:00.000-07:00

Hello….anyone remember me? Yes it has been WAY to long since I posted, but I’m back, and I’m commuting again by train…daily! So I should have plenty to blog about.

To catch up on things – the fast version, after 7 wonderful months of being off of work, I’m on my third job since the very end of December. I worked for 2 weeks for a company in Concord, CA. It was a case management company. Really fascinating what they do, but a position working for a software company in Jack London Square came up, and that job was far more of what I had in mind. I drove to work each day and worked with some really great people who I miss a lot. I would have stayed there, except for that my old boss at Aon in Los Angeles called and offered me a position working with her again. I couldn’t turn it down! I’ve been here since the end of February and I love it!

I’m taking BART everyday to work…so hello blog! With the price of gas out of control taking BART is great. Plus I work at City Center in Oakland, right a BART station. As you can imagine, after riding almost a month now, I have plenty to write about.

Today’s blog comes from something I saw when I logged onto the Los Angeles NBC website. After 3 years they are finally picking a jury for the idiot that parked his car on the MetroLink tracks in Southern California in January 0f 2005, killing 11 and injuring over 180 others while he survived. This wasn’t the train that I rode to work each day, but I had a co-worker that was on that train. While she suffered minor injuries, it wasn’t just about the physical injuries she suffered; it’s about the emotional and mental injuries that were inflicted upon all of us. Broken bones, bruises and concussions heal in a matter of weeks and months, but those emotional injuries will take far longer to heal. Prior to that day I never thought about which train car I got on. But after that “accident”, I never want to board the first or last car of a train and I’ll go out of my way to avoid those cars. I’m sure that BART has an excellent safety record, and I feel very safe about the system, but still, the memories of that morning will be with me every time I board a train, any train.

On my commute, BART doesn’t cross any city streets where some selfish jerk can put his car on the tracks for the first commute train of the day to hit, but deep in my brain and in my heart when I get on a train I can’t help but to think of those who were killed or hurt on that fateful day just because of where they happen to sit.
So this blog goes out all that were on that train back in January 2005.

yikes...what happened to December!

2007-12-26T20:18:00.000-08:00

Wow, it's December 26 and I hardly posted for December...sorry!

It has been a busy month! I took time off from the job hunt for some much needed R&R in Hawaii. Ten days in Oahu in the town of Makaha did the trick. It was wonderful, but in the nature of staying with my blog theme, I'll tell you about the traffic hell we encountered. The west side of Oahu doesn't usually receive high winds, it is the leeward side of the island...however, the first few days I was there the weather decided to play it's own game.

The first night we were there 24 power lines blew down on the only road out of town creating a 3 1/2 hour traffic nightmare. Power did go out at the hotel, but the electric company re-routed the power grid and the hotel was left dark for only about 10 hours. Some of the areas along the down power lines were out for at least 3 days...probably more. My hat goes off to the electric company there in Hawaii and how fast they replaced those lines. We contemplated changing hotels and going to the much dreaded Waikiki area so we didn't have to spend 3 1/2 hours each morning driving the 16 miles that got us out of town and the 2 1/2 hour drive back each night. Under normal circumstances we could drive to the north shore in about an hour, but the first day out it took us 4 1/2 hours. We could have opted to stay at the resort, but since this was a surf vacation, you need to go to where the waves are good.

The first day we endured the long drive was only about 6 hours after all those lines blew down. The local police were still directing traffic through the non working traffic lights and detouring traffic out of the lanes where some of the power poles were laying across. When we drove back through that night the electric company was out in full force. There must have been 50 or more electric company vehicles working working on those lines...and over 100 men and women out there in the dark. To me it looked like at least a week long project to restore it all. The following morning when we headed out there were even more power company vehicles and an even stronger workforce. It was truly incredible. They worked straight through for three day until all was up back as it should be.

As for the rest of the vacation...it was awesome! If I ever figure out how to upload pictures onto my blog space I'll share them with you. I also got some really good wave footage on video!

I got back on the 13th of December and eye surgery scheduled for the 14th. I had two procedures done to my eye. I had some Salzman Nodules lasered off of my eye and also had a pterygium removed. To difficult to explain what these both are, so if you are interested in learning more just google it. They did knock me out so I slept through the 45 minute operation. They did it through heavy sedation, which I am really glad they did because apparently they gave me shots in my eye...they also cut out two section of the white part. I have at least 6 stitches in my eye. Kind of gross so I hope you aren't eating while you read this. It feels okay now, but it's still red and my eye is all puffy. I had a great doctor. If you ever have eye issues I can give you my personal recommendation for Dr.Demartini in Walnut Creek, CA. He is wonderful!

Okay, one more bit of news....I START A NEW JOB TOMORROW! I won't be taking BART to work so I may have to rethink the name and original premise of this blog. I do have one blog entry from a ride I took on BART into the city last week, but I'll write that maybe tomorrow.

I hope you all had a wonderful Hanukkah or Christmas or what ever you celebrate. For me it's not so much about the holiday, but the spirit, the coming together of family and friends and the goodness that mankind hopefully shares in more abundance with each other at this time of year.

I'm glad that 2007 is coming to a close because it was kind of a rough year for me. 2006 wasn't such a hot year either.So here's to looking at all the wonderful and positive things I'm hoping that 2008 brings my way. Fate wouldn't dare bring me a third lousy year! Watch out 2008, here I come!

Public Service Annoucement - If you can stop sniffling, either blow your nose or stay home

2007-12-01T15:18:00.001-08:00

I hate winter, no, I hate what winter does to people, no, I hate people who sit on the train and sniffle. People, do me a favor. If you are going to be on public transportation, stop at Walmart, Target, probably your grocery store and spend the 33 cents and buy a pocket size pack of kleenex. And while you are at it, pick up a pocket size of Purell because I know that you are wiping your runny nose with just your hand, then touching the the handle rail by the train door while you wait for your stop and the escalator hand rail. Spreading all those nasty cold and flu germs isn't a cool thing to do.

Oh, and for those of you sneezing, hacking and coughing up a lung back there 3 rows behind me, keep in mind that if you are that sick you should stay home and stop contaminating the rest of us with what ever you are sick with. I'm feeling really good right now and I really don't want to feel as crappy as you do next week.

love always,
Dr. Cecelia

High tech or what's a computer?

2007-11-29T10:01:00.000-08:00

Yes, once again I headed into the city on BART for another interview. This one was with an agency so hopefully they will find me an awesome job...Soon! But I while I was on the train I started working on something I seem to be drawn to this time of year. I started needlepointing. I'm thinking it is a lost art. I got some really strange looks from younger people on the train. The looks didn't bother me, I just don't think they knew what I was doing. When I needle point I even wonder what I'm doing! The first project I ever did, a "Merry Christmas" banner took me 12 years to finish. I was so proud when I finally did finish that I had it framed and everything. This time around I'm working on a Christmas stocking. Its so cute and hopefully I'll be able to use it next year. I know there is no way in hell I'll finish it for this season. I'm sure it will look like crap, just as the Merry Christmas banner does, but I'll use it anyway. I think it's rather artistic that all my stiches are going in different directionsd!

Now for the flip side of the coin...after sitting on a train, working on the lost art of needlepointing, I come home and check my emails. A few days ago I sent out a happy holidays email to some friends I worked with in Los Angeles. When I first started this blog I sent them all the link to it. Well some of the emails I got back yesterday mentioned that they did check out my blog when I first sent them the link, but they weren't really sure what they were suppose to do with it or exactly what it was....I thought everyone understood what Blogs were.

So I find it kind of an interesting thing that I can sit on a train and get funny looks while I needlepoint because they don't have a clue to what I'm doing, then come home and write my blog, which isn't really that high tech, and have people tell me that have no idea what a blog is and what I'm doing.

I feel so hip and yet so old at the same time!

Am I old fashion? or a in a new frontier foreign to my friends? My friends are all pretty close to my age. You'd think that at 46 the would know what needlepointing is as I'm sure they saw their mom's or grandmothers doing it. And who hasn't heard of the internet and blogging.

Happy Thanksgiving

2007-11-21T13:34:00.001-08:00

While I did have a job interview this morning,it was in Concord so I didn't take BART. And nothing very interesting happened on drive up there. So for today's posting I could tell you all about the AWESOME apple pie I'm making, or describe the beautiful flower arrangement I created, but instead I'll just wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving. Have a safe and wonderful holiday!

Cecelia

Little Pink Raiders????

2007-11-12T17:33:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Sunday and I was on the Oakland Raider's Express. We'll, not really, it was a BART train, but there were so many people dressed in Black and Silver heading out to the Raider's game from Pleasanton/Dublin. There was even one guy bringing on board two 12packs of beer. Of course he was the only guy wearing shorts. Everyone else was bundled up in black Raider team jackets and sweatshirts - after all, this is a mid November Sunday in California...we could all catch frostbite in 60 degree weather.

What's really cute are the faces of the children decked out in their finest Raider's gear. One little girl stands out in her pink and white Raider's jersey. She's a far cry from the Raider fan's they show close up at the game on TV wearing their spikes and black and silver Raider war paint.

After closing the doors at the first station only a handful of seats remain. It became a very interesting and noisy ride the closer we approached Oakland!

Step on a crack, break your mother's back...or other awful things

2007-11-09T13:23:00.000-08:00

While this isn't about a train ride experience, it's about what can happen in any city or town...so city planners, contractors, and cement pourers please read and take notice and help do your part to correct this problem...not only in the SF Bay Area, but in every city across America.

I am a female. I enjoy wearing high heels, but what I don't enjoy is walking on side walks if you have on a heeled shoe that isn't a wedge or wide at the bottom of the heel. Every time I'm in the city (any city!) my heel gets stuck in a wide crack in the sidewalk. Not an unplanned crack, the but the intentional lines of the side walk they put in when pouring the sidewalk. I realize that these cracks/breaks are necessary, but damn it, make them narrower! I can't tell you how many pairs of shoes I've ruined because of a heel getting stuck.

It doesn't matter if I'm wearing high heels or kitten heels or somewhere in between...it always happens no matter what.

I can hear the applause and cheers of women everywhere agreeing with me on this one. It should be mandatory that everyone involved with sidewalk planning be made to walk a minimum of 4 blocks in high heels so they can understand this problem, fix it and plan accordingly for future sidewalk projects. It's a funny mental visual image, but hey, if it helps my shoe collection I'd gladly curtail my giggles and laughter if I see a parade of contractors in pumps.

Okay, done venting and off to Macy's to buy new shoes!

In need of Cheetos

2007-11-08T17:02:00.000-08:00

Today I'm not on a train, a plane, a bus. I was in my car for a while, but that doesn't count. What I am doing is sitting here on the couch wishing I had a bag of cheetos or a box of donuts. Yes I am depressed. About a month ago I posting a blog with a shameless plea to employers out there offering my top notch executive admin services. Well even after that plea and I can't tell you how many resumes sent out, I'm still sitting here on the couch watching Oprah instead of sitting behind a desk organizing a company beyond their beliefs.

I have a lot I am greatful for, and I truly am, but today I received an email from a company I really wanted to work for telling me they had put the position on hold. I guess it set me off. Along with the fact that the sun never really came out today (I am solar powered). So, everyone please send me your positive thoughts and forward my blog onto anyone looking an Executive Assistant/Training Coordinator/Office Manager Extrodinare....oh send some Cheetos while you are at it!

Hanah who?

2007-11-02T12:29:00.000-07:00

Last night we were riding BART into city. But before we even got on board we knew something was up. The kisoks where you buy your BART tickets were full of 10 year old girls, their mothers and a few fathers. Apparently Hanah Montana was appearing at the Oakland Colliseum. I've heard of Hanah Montana, but I really don't know much about her except for the fact that she is Billy Ray Cyrus's daughter. But every little girl in the East Bay knows who she is, and they were all attending her concert.

Pink, glittery, teeny bopping fans, one more adorable than the next were all over the train. The moms were in the know, but the dads were clueless and thinking back to the last concert they attended...Led Zepplin, The Rolling Stones, Rage Against the Machines, The Eagles...but Hanah Montana?????

I'm glad I had sons.

To Eat or Not to Eat...

2007-10-30T16:20:00.000-07:00

Once again I was on BART into the city for another interview. The train is pretty empty the whole ride it, making it very comfortable…until Mr. I’m Not Following The Law boards. He has a bike with him, with is fine since there is plenty of room for it, but what is offensive is the food he has brought on board. The smell of a hot dog loaded with everything, including an over bearing amount of onions has fill the air. It’s rather nauseating and I know that if I were pregnant I’d be puking all over the place. But since I’m not pregnant…nor ever will be again I can’t puke on the guilty culprit I’ll settle for giving him dirty looks. I always thought that they didn’t allow food on board because of the mess it could cause, but now I realize it’s because how offending the smells can be to other passengers.

But a few days later I’m sitting at Oakland airport waiting for a flight to Chicago. I am nibbling on a cookie, the lady city across from me is eating a slice of pizza, the gentle man behind me and to my left has a bag of potato chips. There must be really good air circulation here because I don’t smell any thing. Yes the pizza is making me drool, just because it looks really really good and I’m starving. This little cookie isn’t cutting it. I am a stone’s throw away from the See’s Candy Kiosk and it’s killing me. I know I need to get something to eat to take on the plane because it’s a “non meal” flight. When I made this same flight 3 weeks ago the food they did offer on the plane was horrible at $5.00 a box. The actually encourage you go buy food to bring on the plane to eat.

So depending on where you are, Shakespear was almost right when he wrote "To eat or not to eat..."

Lullaby and Good Night….

2007-10-14T19:55:00.000-07:00

On Friday night we took BART into the city to see a concert at the Warfield Theater. The show was great, especially if you like metal music. It had been a long time since I’ve been to the Warfield and I forgot what a great place it is to see a show.

When we boarded the train at the Dublin/Pleasanton station, the station was packed with commuters getting off the train on their way back home. We got on a train heading into the city and it was empty. We were the only ones in that particular train car. Of course, me in all my silliness pointed this out and I had this strong urge to run up and down the car making funny animal sounds, but I did contain the urge and stayed in my seat. For those of you who have known me personally for a long time, you should be very proud of me…Yes I’m finally growing up and trying to act my age! As we traveled closer to the city, it was defiantly a Friday night crowd getting on board. There was no such thing as the hushed speaking voices, but more of the “Let’s Party” battle cry.

Like I said, the show was great and so was the crowd. Some young thing even asked if he could buy me a drink….or maybe I’m confused, maybe he wanted me to buy him a drink, he didn’t look much over 21. I think I’ll stick with my first thought and he wanted to buy me a drink. I was looking damn good Friday night!

Needless to say I turned him down, but managed to have 3 diet cokes and rum. When we boarded back on BART to go home I felt my age as well as the cocktails and promptly fell asleep. Not just a dozing off, but a deep sleep. We got on at the Powell station and I was asleep before we went through the Trans Bay Tunnel. I didn’t hear anything till I was nudged awake when we pulled into Pleasanton. I personally apologize to everyone on that train if I was snoring or drooling. If I was, next time please laugh at me louder so I’ll hear you and wake up.

I'm Jealous

2007-10-09T10:22:00.000-07:00

I'm jealous. When I was on a BART train one day last week I happened to look out the window as we passed the Fruitvale station. I looked out at the parking lot there and I saw empty parking places during the mid morning hours. I board at the Dublin/Pleasanton station and if you aren't parked by 7:00 am on a week day morning you can pretty much forget parking. I'll gladly pay the $1.00 parking fee for a parking spot, hell I'll even $2.0o any time of day or night if I could find an open spot. I've tried reserving a parking place, but unless you know 30 days in advance that you'll be parking and are able to get on line on that 30th day before everyone else it's nearly impossible.

While interviewing for jobs in the city (shameless plea here - I'm an excellent Executive Assistant with tons of experience both as an Executive Assistant and as a Training/Education Coordinator looking for a position with a great company...email me at cecelia.liss@yahoo.com if you have an open position for me!), my interviews are scheduled for generally mid morning after 10:00 am so I would be boarding BART about 8:30. There are never any parking places available at that time of day Monday through Friday. Thank God for the wonderful and incredible El Marko who leaves for work about that time and drives me there.

Leaving the city at noon is a breeze, but if the wonderful and incredible El Marko has driven me to the BART station that morning I'm stuck at the station because my car isn't there. It's about 5 miles from my house to the BART station and if I'm all dressed up for a job interview in heels, I don't really want to walk those 5 miles home. There isn't a bus route that comes close to the house so I'm faced with a $15.00 + cab ride home.

So here goes my second plea (this one not so shameless) and it goes out to BART....PLEASE hurry, hurry, hurry and expand the parking at the Dublin/Pleasanton station. Employers, please refer to plea number one and send me an email so we may discuss the wonderful things I can bring to your organization!

Trains, Planes, Buses....and a whole lot of walking

2007-10-07T21:03:00.000-07:00

It’s Sunday and the train is full and it’s just the first stop. There are a lot of events going on in San Francisco today and all of us suburbanites have elected to ride BART rather than drive in and deal with the hassle of parking and a hundred other reasons that make a car in the city a headache. We are headed in to see the Blue Angeles as part of the Fleet Week celebration that happens every year in October. There is also a 49er game, the Italian Heritage Parade and the Annual Castro Street Fair happening today.

There where a lot of families on the train and could be attending any of these events with the exception of the Castro Street Fair. If it’s what I think it is or anything like the Folsom Street Fair I attended last weekend, I surely hope that none of the kids on the train will be attending! Yes, last week was the kinky event for me, this weekend it’s the good wholesome family event for me….the many personalities of Cecelia!

I’ll write more about the people who were on the train today in another blog, especially the adorable little blond girl on the train who makes me want to be a grandmother far sooner than I’m ready for my boys to have kids. I’ll go straight to the adventures of the city. I love being in San Francisco. I could never live there, but spending the day or the weekend playing tourist is a blast.

For the first time today I rode on a SF City Muni bus. It was no big deal, but an adventure none the less. The bus was even more crowded that the BART train. From the families heading to the Blue Angeles, there was the excitement written all over there kids' faces, to the teenage girls heading who knows where, gossiping and text messaging the whole way, to the sounds of foreign tourists finding there was through the city trying to see all the sites. And of course those that use the bus everyday as their normal daily transportation. Every seat was taken and there was no standing room left. All th0se sounds blending together giving you the sound of the city.

Needless to say the air show was awesome. The food was a bit over priced but smelled great so I couldn’t resist. It was a great day to be outside. Which was a good thing because I got more of the outside than I thought I would be. When it came to getting back on the bus to head back we had no problem boarding the bus. The problem was the bus never moved. Traffic was awful. I have no idea how many people attended this event, but I think all of them were attempting to drive up Van Ness at the same time we were on the bus.

We boarded the 49 Muni bus at Chestnut Street and it took us about 15 minutes to go 2 blocks south of Van Ness. At that stop we got off the bus and walked the rest of the way to the Civic Center BART Station. Walking we passed the #70 bus that was about 3 blocks ahead of ours and neither bus passed us. In fact when we looked back at about Eddy Street we couldn’t see either of the buses. Traffic was that bad. I don’t think they were moving at all. We probably shaved ½ an hour or more of time by walking while being able to see all the buildings that usually blur by me and go unnoticed when I’m in the car. I’m glad that the buses were stuck in traffic and that we decided to walked the city allowing my love for it to grow even more as it showed me its splendor, glory… and of course it’s chaos.

I'm No Physicist, But Shoes Win Every Time...

2007-10-04T20:03:00.000-07:00

God knows I’m not a physicist, but if I were riding on a BART train this morning it would be using less energy than it was 2 ½ months ago. I’m sure in terms of energy how much less energy it needs if the train is 8 pounds lighter. I’m sure it’s not much at all, but for me it’s huge news. I got on the scale and I’ve lost 8 pounds!

Since I’m not on riding BART today, I’m actually in Chicago, I thought I’d share my first ride on BART. It was the summer between 6th and 7th grade so I must have been about 12 years old. I was in the city with my Dad, but I’m not sure why. We lived in Marin
County at the time and BART doesn’t have service there. I’m not sure exactly where we were, but I remember my shoe breaking. My dad knew that shopping was abundant in around Market Street by Union Square. He didn’t want to have to take the car so he said we would ride on BART. BART was still fairly new and I had never ridden on. I had heard a lot about it and was excited about riding on it. I remember Dad buying the tickets and trusting me to hold on to my own, warning me not to loose it since we would need to it get off the train as well as on. I was so afraid that I would drop it.

Well I managed not to loose my ticket and they let me off the train. I don’t remember a lot of the details about the train ride, except for that it was really exciting to ride on it for the very first time, but I can give you every detail about the shoes. Since I was shopping with my dad, and he didn’t really care about what I got as long as it didn’t take forever, I got to pick out what ever I wanted. I remember the shoes exactly. They were brown sandals, the must have summer shoe that year for all the girls my age. I was so excited to get them! They were a sandal that my mom would never let me get but since I was with my dad I was able to get them.

I really don’t know what was more exciting that day, finally getting to ride BART for the first time or getting the shoes. It must be the shoes because 34 years later I still remember exactly what the shoes look like.

Late in the morning, and my coffee is cold

2007-10-01T22:13:00.000-07:00

It’s the morning commute on BART, well actually late into the commute. It’s after 8:30 and I’m sure that most going into the city for work were on board the 7 am train. I’ve never seen the 7 am train and if I had my choice I never would. At 7 am I’d much prefer to just be waking up to the sound of the handsome man that was just sleeping next to me going downstairs to start the coffee. These 8:30 train people are my people…the sleeper inners of the world.

It’s a world of difference between the casual weekend / midday / night riders as compared to those on board during the morning commute. News papers, laptops and books. Sport coats, brief cases and pantyhose. In this section of the train I only see one person in a baseball cap. At least he has the common decency to be wearing a home team SF Giants cap and not some hip hop clothing logo or punk band branded cap. Same goes with the few carrying back packs rather than briefcases. Plain navy blue Jansports far out number Echo and Dora the Explorer brands.

We are about 5 minutes into the ride and heads are starting to do the head bob. You know the look of the head bob, the eyes start getting heavy, they slowly lower until they closed. And as the eyes close the head starts to drop down onto chest. You can see the sleep deprived trying to fight it off. As soon as their head hits bottom, it immediately springs back up and the eyes fly wide open in panic. The entire process to be repeated again in about 30 seconds.

It’s a much quieter ride in the morning. There is a rustle of newspapers and the occasional brief and hushed conversation on a cell phone. For the most part everyone keeps to themselves. The train’s operator comes over the loud speaker announcing the next stop in a brief but soft tone, as if not to disturb the riders’ brief time of solitude before they start their workday.

Welcome to the city, I hope the office coffee pot isn't empty yet.

Once upon a time

2007-09-28T16:07:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time I started writing a book. I was living in Los Angeles and commuting to work each day by train. I wrote about the people and experiences on the train. What I observed, the sights and sometimes even the smells. I wrote about the people I met, and those I didn’t meet. And then my computer crashed.

I never truly lost all of it, because it’s always been deep within the memory banks of my brain. I didn’t have the slightest idea on how to get it published as a book, but I have figured out how to create a blog. So welcome to the first posting of Cecelia on The Train.

Fast forward about 400 miles north from Los Angeles to the San Francisco Bay Area and a few years after the original thought of a train book. I find myself sitting here on a BART train. BART is short for Bay Area Rapid Transit, one of the areas main mass transportation services. Its mid afternoon, too early for the nightly commute but the train isn’t completely empty either.

I notice three people who have just boarded the train together. It appears to be a father and his two kids. His daughter is about 14 and looks like she would rather be anywhere else in the world right now except for on this train with her dad and her younger brother. She has her IPod on, using it as a distraction to help her ignore the fact that she is with her family. Dad is lost in his newspaper and doesn’t see the angst on his daughter’s face. I notice it, along with the fact that I would have given my right arm to be allowed to wear make up when I was her age the way she is, not exactly Goth, but not far from it. A Stylish Goth look if that’s possible. She closes her eyes and looses herself to her music. I highly doubt that its opera she’s listening to. Her eyes won’t open again till they reach their stop. Dad won't put down his newspaper till they reach stop.

My attention focuses on her brother who is about 10 years old. Like me, he is checking out everyone on the train, almost to the point of him staring. He looks over at me and I look away and lower my gaze. I look up again and he is still looking at me. I worry for a minute that I have might have something in my teeth or that my shirt is buttoned wrong. His focus doesn’t stay on me but goes one by one every person on the train. I watch him and I realize that he is probably doing the same thing I am, creating his own stories about the people on the train.