Recently, I was directed by my doctor to go to a Sleep Clinic to determine whether or not I have sleep apnea. While I understand the need to have more than two dozen wires glued to my head and body, I do not understand the theory behind calling it a “sleep” clinic. There is little sleep to be had.

Once I had undergone the necessary time it took to forcefully glue over two dozen small sensors to my head, face, shoulders and legs, I was fitted with a few other accoutrements and left to read for a while. When the technician finally came in to hook me up to the monitors and tuck me in, he told me I had to sleep on my back. Houston, we have a problem.

I am not professing to be an authority on sleep habits, but I am certainly the foremost expert on my sleep habits and I knew it was going to be a rough night. I am a side-sleeper, I have been since I was a kid, so trying to fall asleep lying on my back, afraid to move because I was wired for sound, was next to impossible.

I did manage to drift off a few times but woke up abruptly when I tried to roll onto my side because I was constricted by the conglomeration of wires. I’m not sure how accurately my results will portray my sleep habits since I wasn’t allowed to sleep as I usually do but I do hope they have some answers for me. I’m certainly not going to be doing that again!

Although my childhood seems like a lifetime ago, there are many things that stand out and make me think that I once lived a very dangerous lifestyle.  We played in the mud and made mud pies.  We drank water from a garden hose and we ran from cottage to cottage in our bare feet, jumping through puddles and springs on the way.  We picked up worms, bugs, frogs and chipmunks – in our hands!  There were nights that my parents had to physically drag me inside because I couldn’t get enough of the outdoors.

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We swam under our dock and hung out with the rock bass and the dock spiders.  We had cook-outs and ate the fish we caught that day and we showered in the rain on the days that the water poured from the sky.  In the winter, we made forts in the snow banks and we stood outside in -20 degree temperatures to wait for the school bus which felt just as cold inside as it was outside.

The reason for my stroll down memory lane is a strange tale.  Let me set the stage.  It was late afternoon.  A slight rain was falling and I had run to the grocery store for an item that I had overlooked on my list.  I was wearing a light summer dress and the rain was gentle but steady.  I picked up my item and, as I was leaving the store, a father and his three teenage children were standing in the doorway watching the rain.  The oldest sibling told the others to put their coats on and the father instructed the kids to wait indoors while he retrieved the car and picked them up at the door.

Not having children of my own, I was questioning whether the genetic make-up of children today is different from the children of my generation.  Perhaps they melt now if they get wet?  Maybe with all of the new allergies, rain now causes a reaction.  Whatever the reason, I stood in the rain beside my car and watched as the gigantic SUV pulled up as close as it could to the door so the children could get into the car unharmed.  I wonder if they are allowed outside at all in the winter?

Although it wasn’t a typewriter, I bled yesterday.  I dusted off the novel that has been in my peripheral for years and added a thousand plus words to it.  That to me equals a huge victory.  I reacquainted myself with the characters, learned a few new things about them and picked up where I left off telling their stories.

They are animated and ready to continue telling me their stories.  Stay tuned….oh, and I may be busy for a while.  🙂

There have been very few times I ever doubted that the Hospitality Industry was the career path I was meant to be on, and I’m sure those few times were after a 16-hour day when I swore I would find another job.  But I never did.

Our lodge has been pretty quiet since Family Day Weekend and I have become accustomed to my 9:00 to 4:00 desk job instead of the crazy hours that hospitality affords its employees.  We had a small conference check in today and, for several days leading up to their appearance at the Front Desk, I had been dreading their arrival.  I have done this several times after a quiet period of office work.  The thought of the sudden onslaught of extra hours and becoming a jack-of-all-trades for a few days unsettles me but then something wonderful happens.  I get to be the real me again, not the paper-pushing, keyboard-punching desk worker, but the social, outgoing, charismatic person who loves to be around people.

The day truly started for me when the group began to appear at the desk around noon, although my work day started at 9:00 am.  From that moment on, I was on.  I was engaging and witty and I had long forgotten how much I had hoped the group would cancel.   There was a great deal of sarcasm and laughter and I felt like I was where I was meant to be.  After I had finished serving them dinner, one of the delegates went so far as to make the sardonic comment, “Susan, you should really learn to be more social”, to which I responded I was taking classes.

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This welcome distraction not only reminded me of why I love my job, but it took my mind off of the looming calendar date coming up on Saturday.  Being busy is good.  Being busy lets my strengths shine and being busy means I get to feel like myself again.