I ran out to Hobby Lobby over my lunch hour today. I was intent upon picking up some velvet posters for "my boy" to color. I did buy him some, and of course, I bought something for the sibs as well.
I was headed to the clearance wall to peruse the potential, and I decided I would take a cruise through the yarn section on my way. Eureka! Rack after rack of clearance yarn for $1.99!
Oh, my little heart was aflutter as I slowed to a crawl and scanned the shelves, top to bottom, as I meandered up the aisle. There near the end. 100% wool yarn! SCORE!!!
I immediately set upon selecting colors and matching dye lots and determining how many skeins/yards were matching up and what could be made from these amounts. Three of this one, four of another, and nine of that one over there....
In the midst of the frenzy of plotting, acquisition status, and mental arithmetic , I paused. It occurred to me... "How much of this would it take to do hats and socks for charity?"
There are a couple of charities that I would really like to do more for, but they require items to be made from wool. I have quite a bit of wool. Most of it is not suitable for hats for children and none of it is suitable for socks. The wool that I have is mainly for felting or weaving. As wool yarn tends to be more expensive, I cannot afford to buy it in a retail venue. My wool for charity knitting comes mainly from purchases on eBay where I can generally save at least 50% off of the retail price. However, I must purchase a fairly large quantity, so it is not an inexpensive prospect.
I purchased 6 skeins of worsted weight wool yarn and two skeins of sock yarn. I spent less than $16. I came home and checked the yardage requirements for the hat and sock patterns. I can make two hats and two pair of socks from the worsted weight yarn. I can make four pair of children's socks from the sock yarn. Not a bad deal at all!!
I'm going back tomorrow for more wool yarn.
I do not have a lot of extra money right now, but it makes me very happy to know that I can spend what little bit of money I do have to do something worthwhile to benefit someone else.
More tomorrow and possibly even a photo if I can figure out how to download the camera. LOL
Showing posts with label daily life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daily life. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Heir to the Legacy
My father's last surviving sibling died nearly two weeks ago, on what would have been my cousin Phil's birthday. My Aunt Betsy was 82. Phil was in his mid-40s when he died 5 years ago from complications of lymphoma and a bone marrow transplant. He had married later in life. His sons were too young to have any memories of him other than him being sick. That is the shameful part of it all. He was my favorite cousin. Betsy was my favorite aunt.
Aunt Betsy was the eccentric aunt. Every kid should have an eccentric aunt. OK, when we were young, we all thought she was weird. It isn't until you are a bit older that you are able to appreciate and respect those who dance through this life to their own rhythm.
My aunt knew no strangers. She was a genuine and honest person who was always willing to lend a hand to anyone in need. Like many of her generation who grew up during the Great Depression, she had developed a life-long mentality of frugality. She wasted nothing.
She was rescuing furniture and household goods from the trash routes long before it became fashionable to the home decorating scene as "shabby chic." There was no reason to throw away anything usable. Someone, somewhere, at some point in time would have need of it. My daughter says I am a pack-rat. HA! My squirreling and saving and salvaging and dumpster-diving obsessions don't even approach the level of that of my aunt.
Her two sons, who live out of state, have the unenviable task of going through her house. It will take at least two years, I am estimating.
The church, of which she was a founding member I came to learn, held her funeral service and then provided a luncheon after her burial. It was an interesting experience to meet my aunt's friends. For that's where her true friends were, in her church.
My aunt was buried in the plot next to my father. When I had spoken with my mother on the phone during that hectic week of arrangements, family coming from out of state, and other miscellany associated with family dysfunction and grief, my mother had commented that she and purchased the plot next to my father for my aunt.
I had been a bit perplexed by this but did not have time to question further during the flurry of activity that week. Betsy's husband, whom she had known since elementary school, had died several years ago. He had been cremated. The reason why there was a need for a funeral plot in which to bury my aunt remained a quandary.
It wasn't until we were at the grave site that the mystery was revealed to me. My cousin Gary, her younger son, commented to me, "Mom decided she didn't want to be buried with the Hoover's. She wanted to be buried with the Johnson's." My reply was spontaneous. "You know, that's just how the Johnson's are."
My baby sister (She will always be my baby sister.) and I were picked up from Mom's house by her husband. She and I were going to head back to Columbus for the luncheon at the church. While Jason was driving us back to their place, my sister was telling Jason about the Lutheran funeral service for my aunt. She laughed and concurred when I referred to Lutheranism as "Catholic Lite." The most difficult part of the funeral for me was when Psalm 23 was read aloud. I had not heard those words spoken aloud since I had read them myself at my father's bedside as he was quickly dying once the life support measures had been removed.
We dropped Jason at their house and headed out on the road. We were talking about my aunt on the drive back to Columbus. I told Deanna what Gary had commented to me at the cemetery and what my impromptu response had been. She laughed the knowing laugh. I guess you'd have to be one of us to understand all that was implied. "Yeah," my sister said, "you marry one of us and it's 'You're coming along for my ride.'" It was then that my sister told me Mom had not simply purchased the plot next to Dad for my aunt. She had purchased three plots in the row behind Dad and Aunt Betsy, as well. The new Johnson section has been staked.
Everyone had pretty well left the luncheon by the time my sister and I rolled in. Three of the ladies who were serving commented about the knitted shawl that I wore. It is my blue wool shawl, which upon beginning to make it, I had informed Hindolo, "This is going to be my winter coat. Therefore, you are not allowed to take me anywhere in the world to live where I cannot wear this as my coat. You have been given a mandate." I related that to the ladies, and they had laughed.
They told me that they had a prayer shawl ministry at the church. They made shawls to donate to a nursing home, and they had been very surprised at how many of the gentlemen in the nursing home had requested shawls made for them in dark colors. Thus far, they had donated fourteen shawls.
I had asked if they used primarily acrylic yarn for the shawls for washability and durability for use in the nursing home. The ladies replied that they used whatever they had or was donated. I told them that I had lots of acrylic yarn that I would be willing to donate. One of the ladies commented, "Betsy's niece having way too much of something on hand. Imagine that." We all laughed. I assured them that it was genetic.
Betsy's older son joined my sister, me, and a couple of the folks from the church at our table. We hadn't seen one another in close to thirty years. We talked and laughed about all sorts of things relating to my aunt.
My sister pondered aloud that my aunt was probably a millionaire, and wished good luck to my cousin in finding all the bank accounts, bonds, investment paperwork.
When our grandmother had died in the early 1990s, my Aunt Betsy was the executor of the estate. Before the estate was settled, my Aunt Lois, the eldest of the siblings died. In order to settle Lois's estate, the money from our grandmother's estate had to be distributed. Betsy produced bonds, CDs, and other investment accounts all in the name of Lois and Lois's children. Aunt Betsy had invested everyone's money for them. She had seen no reason for it to be idle in some account for the state to pillage while waiting for the farm to be sold. She had divided the money up and invested it for everyone.
My sister said that she, Mom, and my sister Luanne had been talking in the days before Aunt Betsy's funeral. One of them had posed the question that they had wondered when was the last time Aunt Betsy had bought a new item of clothing. The consenus had been that it was probably for her husband's funeral. One of my sisters then thought that perhaps Betsy had bought a new dress for Dad's funeral. Mom's response, "No she didn't." Too funny! but not surprising at all.
Aunt Betsy was the aunt who always sent a card for EVERYONE's birthday. Nieces, nephews, their spouses, great nieces, great nephews. It was a running gag for many years about the dollar that she always enclosed in the card for the kids. Deanna commented that she remembered being sixteen years old and getting that dollar from Aunt Betsy. Deanna had been teasing Ryan, my sister Luanne's son, on his birthday last year, "Did you get your dollar from Aunt Betsy?" He had received five dollars, Luanne had said. We all laughed and chimed in unison, "Inflation!"
It was good to share the memories and the laughs. It was good to see the old photos that had been displayed at the funeral home during calling hours. My cousin Gary commented to me, after looking at the old photos of his mom, how much I looked like her. On seeing them, I had to admit that he was right.
With the passing of the last of my father's siblings, that era of the family history has come to an end. It is a very sad thing. My mother is the last of the spouses. Phil was the first of the cousins to have died. My siblings and I are the youngest of the cousins. My dad had nieces and nephews older than him. Most of my cousins are in their mid-to-late 60s, and a few are in their 70s.
As my sister and I sat at the luncheon talking with Betsy's oldest son, Todd, and reminiscing about Aunt Betsy's wonderful brand of eccentricity, Todd commented about my own particular brand of eccentricity in what I had done with my life and career and time in the 30 years since he had seen me last.
I was wearing my Doc Marten Mary Jane shoes and black patterned tights with my black dress, its hemline hitting well above my knee, and blue knit shawl. I related that, as my daughter Amanda and I had been driving to the funeral that morning she had commented about my (typical for me but what would be most unexpected for the people whom we were soon to meet) funeral attire. "Sometimes I wonder if you just try to be different," Amanda had said. "No. I'm just me," I replied.
I think Aunt Betsy was one of the very few family members who truly understood that I was "me." That, however, did not stop her from chastising me to the nurses and the residents at the ICU nurses' station on the day my dad died for being too brilliant to not have gotten my PhD in computer science or in engineering. (Either would have made her happy.) I assured them all, the nonconformity and the wanderlust had not been in vain as it had made for a grand adventure thus far.
I am the heir to the legacy of my aunt. My older niece and nephew are getting to the age where they are coming to realize that I'm the eccentric aunt. The younger ones still view me as weird. Lots of fun, but weird. My grandchildren are still too young to know that I'm not typical of most grandmothers. The older two are beginning to observe some notable differences between the grandmother models, though. LOL
The torch has been passed to the next generation. I have a wonderful legacy and irreplacable role model in whose footsteps I will follow. Onward I go (marching to a samba)...
Aunt Betsy was the eccentric aunt. Every kid should have an eccentric aunt. OK, when we were young, we all thought she was weird. It isn't until you are a bit older that you are able to appreciate and respect those who dance through this life to their own rhythm.
My aunt knew no strangers. She was a genuine and honest person who was always willing to lend a hand to anyone in need. Like many of her generation who grew up during the Great Depression, she had developed a life-long mentality of frugality. She wasted nothing.
She was rescuing furniture and household goods from the trash routes long before it became fashionable to the home decorating scene as "shabby chic." There was no reason to throw away anything usable. Someone, somewhere, at some point in time would have need of it. My daughter says I am a pack-rat. HA! My squirreling and saving and salvaging and dumpster-diving obsessions don't even approach the level of that of my aunt.
Her two sons, who live out of state, have the unenviable task of going through her house. It will take at least two years, I am estimating.
The church, of which she was a founding member I came to learn, held her funeral service and then provided a luncheon after her burial. It was an interesting experience to meet my aunt's friends. For that's where her true friends were, in her church.
My aunt was buried in the plot next to my father. When I had spoken with my mother on the phone during that hectic week of arrangements, family coming from out of state, and other miscellany associated with family dysfunction and grief, my mother had commented that she and purchased the plot next to my father for my aunt.
I had been a bit perplexed by this but did not have time to question further during the flurry of activity that week. Betsy's husband, whom she had known since elementary school, had died several years ago. He had been cremated. The reason why there was a need for a funeral plot in which to bury my aunt remained a quandary.
It wasn't until we were at the grave site that the mystery was revealed to me. My cousin Gary, her younger son, commented to me, "Mom decided she didn't want to be buried with the Hoover's. She wanted to be buried with the Johnson's." My reply was spontaneous. "You know, that's just how the Johnson's are."
My baby sister (She will always be my baby sister.) and I were picked up from Mom's house by her husband. She and I were going to head back to Columbus for the luncheon at the church. While Jason was driving us back to their place, my sister was telling Jason about the Lutheran funeral service for my aunt. She laughed and concurred when I referred to Lutheranism as "Catholic Lite." The most difficult part of the funeral for me was when Psalm 23 was read aloud. I had not heard those words spoken aloud since I had read them myself at my father's bedside as he was quickly dying once the life support measures had been removed.
We dropped Jason at their house and headed out on the road. We were talking about my aunt on the drive back to Columbus. I told Deanna what Gary had commented to me at the cemetery and what my impromptu response had been. She laughed the knowing laugh. I guess you'd have to be one of us to understand all that was implied. "Yeah," my sister said, "you marry one of us and it's 'You're coming along for my ride.'" It was then that my sister told me Mom had not simply purchased the plot next to Dad for my aunt. She had purchased three plots in the row behind Dad and Aunt Betsy, as well. The new Johnson section has been staked.
Everyone had pretty well left the luncheon by the time my sister and I rolled in. Three of the ladies who were serving commented about the knitted shawl that I wore. It is my blue wool shawl, which upon beginning to make it, I had informed Hindolo, "This is going to be my winter coat. Therefore, you are not allowed to take me anywhere in the world to live where I cannot wear this as my coat. You have been given a mandate." I related that to the ladies, and they had laughed.
They told me that they had a prayer shawl ministry at the church. They made shawls to donate to a nursing home, and they had been very surprised at how many of the gentlemen in the nursing home had requested shawls made for them in dark colors. Thus far, they had donated fourteen shawls.
I had asked if they used primarily acrylic yarn for the shawls for washability and durability for use in the nursing home. The ladies replied that they used whatever they had or was donated. I told them that I had lots of acrylic yarn that I would be willing to donate. One of the ladies commented, "Betsy's niece having way too much of something on hand. Imagine that." We all laughed. I assured them that it was genetic.
Betsy's older son joined my sister, me, and a couple of the folks from the church at our table. We hadn't seen one another in close to thirty years. We talked and laughed about all sorts of things relating to my aunt.
My sister pondered aloud that my aunt was probably a millionaire, and wished good luck to my cousin in finding all the bank accounts, bonds, investment paperwork.
When our grandmother had died in the early 1990s, my Aunt Betsy was the executor of the estate. Before the estate was settled, my Aunt Lois, the eldest of the siblings died. In order to settle Lois's estate, the money from our grandmother's estate had to be distributed. Betsy produced bonds, CDs, and other investment accounts all in the name of Lois and Lois's children. Aunt Betsy had invested everyone's money for them. She had seen no reason for it to be idle in some account for the state to pillage while waiting for the farm to be sold. She had divided the money up and invested it for everyone.
My sister said that she, Mom, and my sister Luanne had been talking in the days before Aunt Betsy's funeral. One of them had posed the question that they had wondered when was the last time Aunt Betsy had bought a new item of clothing. The consenus had been that it was probably for her husband's funeral. One of my sisters then thought that perhaps Betsy had bought a new dress for Dad's funeral. Mom's response, "No she didn't." Too funny! but not surprising at all.
Aunt Betsy was the aunt who always sent a card for EVERYONE's birthday. Nieces, nephews, their spouses, great nieces, great nephews. It was a running gag for many years about the dollar that she always enclosed in the card for the kids. Deanna commented that she remembered being sixteen years old and getting that dollar from Aunt Betsy. Deanna had been teasing Ryan, my sister Luanne's son, on his birthday last year, "Did you get your dollar from Aunt Betsy?" He had received five dollars, Luanne had said. We all laughed and chimed in unison, "Inflation!"
It was good to share the memories and the laughs. It was good to see the old photos that had been displayed at the funeral home during calling hours. My cousin Gary commented to me, after looking at the old photos of his mom, how much I looked like her. On seeing them, I had to admit that he was right.
With the passing of the last of my father's siblings, that era of the family history has come to an end. It is a very sad thing. My mother is the last of the spouses. Phil was the first of the cousins to have died. My siblings and I are the youngest of the cousins. My dad had nieces and nephews older than him. Most of my cousins are in their mid-to-late 60s, and a few are in their 70s.
As my sister and I sat at the luncheon talking with Betsy's oldest son, Todd, and reminiscing about Aunt Betsy's wonderful brand of eccentricity, Todd commented about my own particular brand of eccentricity in what I had done with my life and career and time in the 30 years since he had seen me last.
I was wearing my Doc Marten Mary Jane shoes and black patterned tights with my black dress, its hemline hitting well above my knee, and blue knit shawl. I related that, as my daughter Amanda and I had been driving to the funeral that morning she had commented about my (typical for me but what would be most unexpected for the people whom we were soon to meet) funeral attire. "Sometimes I wonder if you just try to be different," Amanda had said. "No. I'm just me," I replied.
I think Aunt Betsy was one of the very few family members who truly understood that I was "me." That, however, did not stop her from chastising me to the nurses and the residents at the ICU nurses' station on the day my dad died for being too brilliant to not have gotten my PhD in computer science or in engineering. (Either would have made her happy.) I assured them all, the nonconformity and the wanderlust had not been in vain as it had made for a grand adventure thus far.
I am the heir to the legacy of my aunt. My older niece and nephew are getting to the age where they are coming to realize that I'm the eccentric aunt. The younger ones still view me as weird. Lots of fun, but weird. My grandchildren are still too young to know that I'm not typical of most grandmothers. The older two are beginning to observe some notable differences between the grandmother models, though. LOL
The torch has been passed to the next generation. I have a wonderful legacy and irreplacable role model in whose footsteps I will follow. Onward I go (marching to a samba)...
Saturday, February 7, 2009
I'm ALIVE! ...and on the internet
It has been a long, cold, grey winter. Welcome to O-hia. We have, after a fashion, had some sunshine at intervals over the last few days. The sky was, at least, more blue than overcast, and I was wishing that I had tossed my shades into my pack... "What is this alien brightness to which my eyes are unaccustomed?"
It took more than two months of rescheduled appointments (due to work and frigid temperatures) to get my cable and internet installed, but as of one week ago, I'm back! As my only available day for an install appointment is Saturday, that in itself compounded the logistics and lengthened the time-frame. Having to work and/or watch the grands on Saturday while my daughter worked complicated the scenario.
After the third reschedule, I even took an afternoon off during the week to make an appointment for the install. The temperature that day was in the single digits and the wind chill was more than -20 degrees. I just couldn't bring myself to have the installer out in that sort of frigid mess. As I told the very nice customer service person on the phone, I didn't want that particular karma lurking about seeking its opportune moment. The CSR was in humorous agreement on that fact. From the left-brained cynical wench next door (aka my offspring), "If you don't have the tech out working, someone else will. That's just stupid." "Maybe, but let someone else have that karma. I don't want it."
The Judeo-Christian interpretation... "reaping and sowing" Why would I "sow" into someone having to be outside working in totally miserable conditions for my enjoyment of something as superfluous as digital cable television and internet access? Do I really want to "reap the harvest" from that particular bit of selfish behavior? Nope. Not me.
Hindolo's take on having cable installed... "You are getting cable? What has changed?" Ever the pragmatist. (He with the 43-inch LCD as the focal point of the living room and no cable...)
Genny IM'd me the other night. I'm glad she did. I have missed our chats. Fortunately, she blogs frequently so I have been able to stay updated on the parental units and the goings on at the shelter. I told her that I had experienced a "Genny moment" on the bus that morning on my way to work.
I was happily knitting away on the Rambling Rows Afghan pattern (shameless plug for Cottage Creation Patterns and Carol Anderson--and why the heck not, Paradise Fibers in Spokane from where I purchased the pattern) that I am making in bright, jewel-toned colors for a therapy blanket for one of the treatment rooms. A rather unkempt man wearing a bright orange insulated coverall boarded the bus after having secured his bicycle to the rack. He immediately commented on my knitting, introduced himself as "Mike" and reached to shake my hand. As I was in the middle of the decrease stitch pattern, I could not shake his hand but did offer mine once I had completed the decrease.
Mike then commented about how he thought it was a very exciting and interesting thing that I had the telecommunications receiver antenna connecting the pointed sticks together. (I was knitting on a circular knitting needle, two short sticks of bamboo connected with a nylon cable. * explanation added for clarity for the knitting uninitiated*)
I explained that it was a nylon cable, a very poor conductor of telecommunications signals. "My attempt at reality orientation," as I explained to Genny. Mike was, however, not to be dissuaded. It then became a fiber optic cable. Genny laughed; had Mike been able to be convinced, he would have then had to admit that he was able to be cured. Not likely to be with schizophrenia that is generally poorly managed among the underserved who are out in the community.
I told Genny that I really wanted to drag him on to the office with me and start upon "fixing" him.
I genuinely despise it when God gives those glimpses of clarity and unction. I am not a psych nurse.
I will tell you that I am not a pediatric nurse, either. I just happened to wind up, through God's doing, where I'm at. It was no fault of my own; I had nothing to do with it. I work at a job that I didn't even apply for! (This is the second solely pediatric stint of my career, by the way.)
Ali (my doc) thinks it's funny. Since I told her of how I came to be at this job, she has enjoyed relating it to a few of our patients and to some of the students and interns and residents who have rotated with us. She didn't envision her practice being what it is, either. God just seems to have these ideas for us...
What are you gonna do? I have enough experience in going down this road to know that you can go along the hard way, or you can go along the easy way. Sort of like trying to put a coat on a two-year-old. "Do you want to put your coat on here or do you want to put your coat on by the door?" It is understood that the coat is going to be put on. The variables are timing and place.
Time for me to be on to some other things.
More later.
It took more than two months of rescheduled appointments (due to work and frigid temperatures) to get my cable and internet installed, but as of one week ago, I'm back! As my only available day for an install appointment is Saturday, that in itself compounded the logistics and lengthened the time-frame. Having to work and/or watch the grands on Saturday while my daughter worked complicated the scenario.
After the third reschedule, I even took an afternoon off during the week to make an appointment for the install. The temperature that day was in the single digits and the wind chill was more than -20 degrees. I just couldn't bring myself to have the installer out in that sort of frigid mess. As I told the very nice customer service person on the phone, I didn't want that particular karma lurking about seeking its opportune moment. The CSR was in humorous agreement on that fact. From the left-brained cynical wench next door (aka my offspring), "If you don't have the tech out working, someone else will. That's just stupid." "Maybe, but let someone else have that karma. I don't want it."
The Judeo-Christian interpretation... "reaping and sowing" Why would I "sow" into someone having to be outside working in totally miserable conditions for my enjoyment of something as superfluous as digital cable television and internet access? Do I really want to "reap the harvest" from that particular bit of selfish behavior? Nope. Not me.
Hindolo's take on having cable installed... "You are getting cable? What has changed?" Ever the pragmatist. (He with the 43-inch LCD as the focal point of the living room and no cable...)
Genny IM'd me the other night. I'm glad she did. I have missed our chats. Fortunately, she blogs frequently so I have been able to stay updated on the parental units and the goings on at the shelter. I told her that I had experienced a "Genny moment" on the bus that morning on my way to work.
I was happily knitting away on the Rambling Rows Afghan pattern (shameless plug for Cottage Creation Patterns and Carol Anderson--and why the heck not, Paradise Fibers in Spokane from where I purchased the pattern) that I am making in bright, jewel-toned colors for a therapy blanket for one of the treatment rooms. A rather unkempt man wearing a bright orange insulated coverall boarded the bus after having secured his bicycle to the rack. He immediately commented on my knitting, introduced himself as "Mike" and reached to shake my hand. As I was in the middle of the decrease stitch pattern, I could not shake his hand but did offer mine once I had completed the decrease.
Mike then commented about how he thought it was a very exciting and interesting thing that I had the telecommunications receiver antenna connecting the pointed sticks together. (I was knitting on a circular knitting needle, two short sticks of bamboo connected with a nylon cable. * explanation added for clarity for the knitting uninitiated*)
I explained that it was a nylon cable, a very poor conductor of telecommunications signals. "My attempt at reality orientation," as I explained to Genny. Mike was, however, not to be dissuaded. It then became a fiber optic cable. Genny laughed; had Mike been able to be convinced, he would have then had to admit that he was able to be cured. Not likely to be with schizophrenia that is generally poorly managed among the underserved who are out in the community.
I told Genny that I really wanted to drag him on to the office with me and start upon "fixing" him.
I genuinely despise it when God gives those glimpses of clarity and unction. I am not a psych nurse.
I will tell you that I am not a pediatric nurse, either. I just happened to wind up, through God's doing, where I'm at. It was no fault of my own; I had nothing to do with it. I work at a job that I didn't even apply for! (This is the second solely pediatric stint of my career, by the way.)
Ali (my doc) thinks it's funny. Since I told her of how I came to be at this job, she has enjoyed relating it to a few of our patients and to some of the students and interns and residents who have rotated with us. She didn't envision her practice being what it is, either. God just seems to have these ideas for us...
What are you gonna do? I have enough experience in going down this road to know that you can go along the hard way, or you can go along the easy way. Sort of like trying to put a coat on a two-year-old. "Do you want to put your coat on here or do you want to put your coat on by the door?" It is understood that the coat is going to be put on. The variables are timing and place.
Time for me to be on to some other things.
More later.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
I did it! Over the last 5 months, I have successfully waded through 10,000 emails that have come through my sorely neglected for the first six months of this year Yahoo Inbox. YEA ME!
"YEA ME!" has become the new catch-phrase of the offspring and myself in response to the myriad and on-going deluge of overwhelmingly negative "stuff" that has been pouring down over the last couple of months.
She's about to drown in it. For myself, being far more jaded and cynical (there are distinct advantages to being "old"), I manage to laugh my way through most of it in the end.
We are vehicle-less. Between the two of us, we have managed to kill three minivans in the span of 2 months. I view it as a karmic signal that an SUV is in order. Having the long-held belief that minivans are tangible evidence of evil, it was merely one brief exercise in fuzzy logic to arrive at the karmic connection.
Gabe has been suspended from kindergarten five times in six weeks. She is not surprised but is highly frustrated by this series of on-going events. We knew that it would be a challenge playing "catch up" in getting him the medical, behavioral, and educational help that he needs, but I am certain that she was not bargaining for anything this extreme. Progress is being made, after the ex-son-in-shit-head's years of denial, thankfully. He is being medicated (short-term) for the ADHD while further testing for allergens and metabolic imbalances is under-way. Preliminary testing has found that he is not Aspergers but is definitely in the "spectrum" for sensory integrative disorders. The school psychologist has decided to forego information gathering and proceed directly to testing. He has an IEP in place, but the school is not willing to be stern enough with him regarding his outbursts and maladaptive behaviors. There is nothing that Gabe loves more than an audience. When his behavior in the classroom (typically running on the tables, throwing things at other students) necessitates him being removed, they send him to another room full of students. The only difference being, the second room is the in-school detention room which is pre-filled with a disruptive element before he arrives to contribute to the melee. With Gabe needing to be the center of attention, this particular group of children only serve to escalate his behavior even further.
Aren't the people who came up with this resolution supposed to be the "professionals?"
I am glad that my daughter is a pro-active as she is. This would otherwise be an unwinnable scenario. However, it is wearing on her immensely.
The latest "YEA ME!!" will transpire later this afternoon when she is finished with work. She will drive 35 miles east and scour the should of the interstate for her keys, which were presumably lost there last night when Minivan #3 bit the dust.
The gas was off for a week-and-a-half. Thankfully, the diligence of a single father of seven (who officially had nothing to do with fixing the gas leak as it is against the policy of the fascists at the utility company) found and fixed the offending gas leak allowing hot water to return and heat to be generated, just in time for the onset of the cold weather this week.
The clothes dryer was kaput for a week and a half. In spite of promises to look at and fix it from Al, Amanda was able to find a loose wire and reconnect it herself. I was impressed. She disassembled and reassembled the components in the fashion of a true professional, including having two miscellaneous screws left-over at the end of the exercise.
For now, I'm closing this in order to assist the children in cleaning the living room before she gets home from work. It is painful to live a mess; there is no point in living in a mess.
"YEA ME!" has become the new catch-phrase of the offspring and myself in response to the myriad and on-going deluge of overwhelmingly negative "stuff" that has been pouring down over the last couple of months.
She's about to drown in it. For myself, being far more jaded and cynical (there are distinct advantages to being "old"), I manage to laugh my way through most of it in the end.
We are vehicle-less. Between the two of us, we have managed to kill three minivans in the span of 2 months. I view it as a karmic signal that an SUV is in order. Having the long-held belief that minivans are tangible evidence of evil, it was merely one brief exercise in fuzzy logic to arrive at the karmic connection.
Gabe has been suspended from kindergarten five times in six weeks. She is not surprised but is highly frustrated by this series of on-going events. We knew that it would be a challenge playing "catch up" in getting him the medical, behavioral, and educational help that he needs, but I am certain that she was not bargaining for anything this extreme. Progress is being made, after the ex-son-in-shit-head's years of denial, thankfully. He is being medicated (short-term) for the ADHD while further testing for allergens and metabolic imbalances is under-way. Preliminary testing has found that he is not Aspergers but is definitely in the "spectrum" for sensory integrative disorders. The school psychologist has decided to forego information gathering and proceed directly to testing. He has an IEP in place, but the school is not willing to be stern enough with him regarding his outbursts and maladaptive behaviors. There is nothing that Gabe loves more than an audience. When his behavior in the classroom (typically running on the tables, throwing things at other students) necessitates him being removed, they send him to another room full of students. The only difference being, the second room is the in-school detention room which is pre-filled with a disruptive element before he arrives to contribute to the melee. With Gabe needing to be the center of attention, this particular group of children only serve to escalate his behavior even further.
Aren't the people who came up with this resolution supposed to be the "professionals?"
I am glad that my daughter is a pro-active as she is. This would otherwise be an unwinnable scenario. However, it is wearing on her immensely.
The latest "YEA ME!!" will transpire later this afternoon when she is finished with work. She will drive 35 miles east and scour the should of the interstate for her keys, which were presumably lost there last night when Minivan #3 bit the dust.
The gas was off for a week-and-a-half. Thankfully, the diligence of a single father of seven (who officially had nothing to do with fixing the gas leak as it is against the policy of the fascists at the utility company) found and fixed the offending gas leak allowing hot water to return and heat to be generated, just in time for the onset of the cold weather this week.
The clothes dryer was kaput for a week and a half. In spite of promises to look at and fix it from Al, Amanda was able to find a loose wire and reconnect it herself. I was impressed. She disassembled and reassembled the components in the fashion of a true professional, including having two miscellaneous screws left-over at the end of the exercise.
For now, I'm closing this in order to assist the children in cleaning the living room before she gets home from work. It is painful to live a mess; there is no point in living in a mess.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
~yawns and stretches~
It's 5:26am, and I'm just sitting down with my first cuppa joe. My caffeine consumption is seriously lagging these days, and that is probably not a bad thing.
I am relatively wide-awake for it being such an early hour. I was awakened around 3:30 by a combination of the pain in my back and the wretched feline yowling downstairs... sounded too much like my daughter saying "mom." Does that "mother hearing" never go away? ~sigh~
I hope you all liked yesterday's entry on The Story of Stuff. Other than some statistics, it really didn't present any information that I didn't know, but I hope it gets spread around the internet enough and seen by enough of those with the "Wal-Mart mentality" that SOMETHING in there strikes a chord with our consumer-driven masses.
Not that I think Wal-Mart is really any worse of a retailer than Target or K-Mart or Sears or Abercrombie or Macys... I see the same countries of origin on the labels of products sold in those stores as I do in Wally-World.
You know, if Americans were to not shop for a month (hell, two weeks), it would do more to damage our economy than high gas prices, plummets in the stock market, the failure of large banking/insurance corporations, and the housing crisis combined.
Whomever is to be the next president of this country (I really pray that it isn't McCain, and I'm a Republican. A Republican with a conscience, that is.) is walking into a truly fucked-up scenario.
Another big thank you to the Clinton administration. It was his administration that deregulated the securities industry in '98/'99 (somewhere around there, I'm getting old, gimme a break, OK). Those controls had been put in place after the GREAT DEPRESSION. And, hey, look... it took us less than a decade without those controls and regulations in place to totally screw things up. Gotta love the global economy and the fact that our currency is backed by nothing of any value. We have tremendous national debt and trade deficits. Oh hell... you all know how we got into this mess.
Oh, hey... I got one of those DVD's that Clarion sent out in order to smear Obama. If you didn't receive one, it is titled "Obsession." The "O" in the title is the Islamic crescent and stars and the cover art definitely lends an "apocalyptic" tone. I didn't get to watch it. The perverse and twisted part of my nature really did want to watch it for purely vicarious reasons. The offspring (another Republican with a conscience) however, stated quite matter-of-factly, "You know we're not watching this, right?" as she deposited it in the trash on Saturday - the very same day that it was received in the mail. I really don't know where that bitch gets it from.... ~insert giggle and wink here~
Well, it's 5:50am... shower time.
Ciao!
It's 5:26am, and I'm just sitting down with my first cuppa joe. My caffeine consumption is seriously lagging these days, and that is probably not a bad thing.
I am relatively wide-awake for it being such an early hour. I was awakened around 3:30 by a combination of the pain in my back and the wretched feline yowling downstairs... sounded too much like my daughter saying "mom." Does that "mother hearing" never go away? ~sigh~
I hope you all liked yesterday's entry on The Story of Stuff. Other than some statistics, it really didn't present any information that I didn't know, but I hope it gets spread around the internet enough and seen by enough of those with the "Wal-Mart mentality" that SOMETHING in there strikes a chord with our consumer-driven masses.
Not that I think Wal-Mart is really any worse of a retailer than Target or K-Mart or Sears or Abercrombie or Macys... I see the same countries of origin on the labels of products sold in those stores as I do in Wally-World.
You know, if Americans were to not shop for a month (hell, two weeks), it would do more to damage our economy than high gas prices, plummets in the stock market, the failure of large banking/insurance corporations, and the housing crisis combined.
Whomever is to be the next president of this country (I really pray that it isn't McCain, and I'm a Republican. A Republican with a conscience, that is.) is walking into a truly fucked-up scenario.
Another big thank you to the Clinton administration. It was his administration that deregulated the securities industry in '98/'99 (somewhere around there, I'm getting old, gimme a break, OK). Those controls had been put in place after the GREAT DEPRESSION. And, hey, look... it took us less than a decade without those controls and regulations in place to totally screw things up. Gotta love the global economy and the fact that our currency is backed by nothing of any value. We have tremendous national debt and trade deficits. Oh hell... you all know how we got into this mess.
Oh, hey... I got one of those DVD's that Clarion sent out in order to smear Obama. If you didn't receive one, it is titled "Obsession." The "O" in the title is the Islamic crescent and stars and the cover art definitely lends an "apocalyptic" tone. I didn't get to watch it. The perverse and twisted part of my nature really did want to watch it for purely vicarious reasons. The offspring (another Republican with a conscience) however, stated quite matter-of-factly, "You know we're not watching this, right?" as she deposited it in the trash on Saturday - the very same day that it was received in the mail. I really don't know where that bitch gets it from.... ~insert giggle and wink here~
Well, it's 5:50am... shower time.
Ciao!
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Everything I Needed to Know in Life...
... I learned from Horatio Caine!
teehee
Your family are the most important people in your life. They may make things extremely difficult for you at times, but you do your best to take care of them. Remember, if you don't love your family, no one else may.
No matter how uncomfortable the situation, you must do the morally right thing.
You always eliminate the threat with extreme prejudice... no wavering, no doubt, no second thought.
A wry one-liner never hurts.
Isn't that all there is? LOL
Yeah, I watch CSI Miami. Not so much for David Caruso; more for that quasi-forensic stuff dramatized there. And, the plot lines of most of Bruckheimer's CSI series have some decent twists. I prefer the forensic shows for the truly vicarious stuff, but I've seen most of them. My mind is sort of warped that way.
I'm one of those people who looks at the grotesque photos on Rotten.com and is more fascinated by the "hmmmm, now exactly how did this get to be this" aspect of them than viewing them just for the sheer shock/schlock/horror value. I don't slow down on the highway at accident scenes. I have no morbid fascination. There's really nothing there that I want to see.
A couple of years back, the offspring and I were watching some forensic science-inspired TV program. I commented to her that I had been offered a full scholarship to study forensic science years ago, but my parents had been so appalled by the thought that they refused to allow me to accept it. She was incredulous. The next time we visited my family, I brought it up the subject of that offer. The memory of it still brought revulsion to my mother. I, however, think I would have made a kick ass blood-spatter expert.
On the internet browser homepage at msn.com yesterday was a little "what do your color preferences say about your personality and good career options" quizzes. I took it. It was pretty accurate. Paralleled my Jungian personality ENTP results. Said I would be ideally suited to arts/design/creative-type professions. Yeah, what else is new?
In defense of my left-brain, I took a career satisfaction inventory test from the same site. I'm well-suited and perfectly happy in my profession except in areas of salary, benefits, some of the organizational structure things. Who doesn't experience some dissatisfaction and frustration with those areas? It wasn't enough dissatisfaction to cause disharmony in my soul, so I suppose it doesn't matter that much, does it?
I have acquired the "head cold" that is making its way through the household. Rather than opting for the green death Nyquil route, I went the Vitamin C, Zinc, echinacea in addition to the B-complex vitamin and probiotics route. Some increased intake of water, some green tea with honey lemon and ginseng, and a bowl of hot and sour soup for good measure has me not feeling too badly at all.
The guy is heading back to class tomorrow. Two quarters to go. He's taking this engagement ring-thing quite seriously. I had joked that he should pick it up for me from Tiffany when he goes to NYC to do some Christmas shopping. He decided that was a good idea. As he stated to me, "Yes, you should have a nice ring." Guess I need to now redirect him to Ashcroft and Oak instead. Wonder if there's one in NYC? lol
teehee
Your family are the most important people in your life. They may make things extremely difficult for you at times, but you do your best to take care of them. Remember, if you don't love your family, no one else may.
No matter how uncomfortable the situation, you must do the morally right thing.
You always eliminate the threat with extreme prejudice... no wavering, no doubt, no second thought.
A wry one-liner never hurts.
Isn't that all there is? LOL
Yeah, I watch CSI Miami. Not so much for David Caruso; more for that quasi-forensic stuff dramatized there. And, the plot lines of most of Bruckheimer's CSI series have some decent twists. I prefer the forensic shows for the truly vicarious stuff, but I've seen most of them. My mind is sort of warped that way.
I'm one of those people who looks at the grotesque photos on Rotten.com and is more fascinated by the "hmmmm, now exactly how did this get to be this" aspect of them than viewing them just for the sheer shock/schlock/horror value. I don't slow down on the highway at accident scenes. I have no morbid fascination. There's really nothing there that I want to see.
A couple of years back, the offspring and I were watching some forensic science-inspired TV program. I commented to her that I had been offered a full scholarship to study forensic science years ago, but my parents had been so appalled by the thought that they refused to allow me to accept it. She was incredulous. The next time we visited my family, I brought it up the subject of that offer. The memory of it still brought revulsion to my mother. I, however, think I would have made a kick ass blood-spatter expert.
On the internet browser homepage at msn.com yesterday was a little "what do your color preferences say about your personality and good career options" quizzes. I took it. It was pretty accurate. Paralleled my Jungian personality ENTP results. Said I would be ideally suited to arts/design/creative-type professions. Yeah, what else is new?
In defense of my left-brain, I took a career satisfaction inventory test from the same site. I'm well-suited and perfectly happy in my profession except in areas of salary, benefits, some of the organizational structure things. Who doesn't experience some dissatisfaction and frustration with those areas? It wasn't enough dissatisfaction to cause disharmony in my soul, so I suppose it doesn't matter that much, does it?
I have acquired the "head cold" that is making its way through the household. Rather than opting for the green death Nyquil route, I went the Vitamin C, Zinc, echinacea in addition to the B-complex vitamin and probiotics route. Some increased intake of water, some green tea with honey lemon and ginseng, and a bowl of hot and sour soup for good measure has me not feeling too badly at all.
The guy is heading back to class tomorrow. Two quarters to go. He's taking this engagement ring-thing quite seriously. I had joked that he should pick it up for me from Tiffany when he goes to NYC to do some Christmas shopping. He decided that was a good idea. As he stated to me, "Yes, you should have a nice ring." Guess I need to now redirect him to Ashcroft and Oak instead. Wonder if there's one in NYC? lol
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Too Good to Pass on This One...
The week at work has been crazy thus far. Not altogether unexpected but still more than enough stuff to keep on top of and keep up with that I'm struggling to keep my desk clear. (That's why they invented filing cabinets and file folders, ya know.)
Amanda is making some changes that she feels will be good for her. The quasiboyfriend is having some difficulty grasping the concept that it has nothing to do with him. He just can't seem to understand that they haven't known each other long enough and they aren't involved deeply enough that he is even considered in her decision-making process. Yeah, one of those who seems to think that everything must be all about him. (Her dad gives their involvement 6 months max, by the way.)
So, what does this self-involved and non-evolved dumb ass do this afternoon? OMG! This was so great!! I just couldn't believe it when she told me this when I got off work this evening.
He sent her a text message that read, "merry me"
Oh is that not just the fucking best!!
A TEXT MESSAGE!!
Shit, and here I was feeling like a commodity simply because Hindolo just sort of assimilated me into his marriage mindset. LMTCTFOAO (laughing my twisted cynical tired fucking old ass off). At least he had enough sense not to do something that totally assinine.
Truthfully, Hindolo doesn't text. Doesn't even read text messages when he gets one. I know. I have sent him a few. I gave up. However, if he did text, he has more sense than to even allow something as blatantly stupid as the idea of texting a marriage proposition.
I say proposition because something that totally idiotic could not ever be considered a proposal.
A TEXT MESSAGE!!!
O-M-G!!!
Of course I had to ask her if she had replied..... lmao.... Hey, that's just me.
Amanda can't wait to share that one with the girls at work tomorrow. Neither can I, the truth be told. That one is just too good to pass up.
Ciao.
Amanda is making some changes that she feels will be good for her. The quasiboyfriend is having some difficulty grasping the concept that it has nothing to do with him. He just can't seem to understand that they haven't known each other long enough and they aren't involved deeply enough that he is even considered in her decision-making process. Yeah, one of those who seems to think that everything must be all about him. (Her dad gives their involvement 6 months max, by the way.)
So, what does this self-involved and non-evolved dumb ass do this afternoon? OMG! This was so great!! I just couldn't believe it when she told me this when I got off work this evening.
He sent her a text message that read, "merry me"
Oh is that not just the fucking best!!
A TEXT MESSAGE!!
Shit, and here I was feeling like a commodity simply because Hindolo just sort of assimilated me into his marriage mindset. LMTCTFOAO (laughing my twisted cynical tired fucking old ass off). At least he had enough sense not to do something that totally assinine.
Truthfully, Hindolo doesn't text. Doesn't even read text messages when he gets one. I know. I have sent him a few. I gave up. However, if he did text, he has more sense than to even allow something as blatantly stupid as the idea of texting a marriage proposition.
I say proposition because something that totally idiotic could not ever be considered a proposal.
A TEXT MESSAGE!!!
O-M-G!!!
Of course I had to ask her if she had replied..... lmao.... Hey, that's just me.
Amanda can't wait to share that one with the girls at work tomorrow. Neither can I, the truth be told. That one is just too good to pass up.
Ciao.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
It Just Figures...
The weather has continued to be miserably humid though not quite as hot these last few days.
The job offers are flooding in. One thing about my industry... it takes forever sometimes to get a job. I was to have an appointment this morning with an agency to do home health for pediatrics. A tumble down my daughter's back steps last evening (Calling myself doing her a favor and taking out the trash.) has left me very stiff and sore and aching. Fortunately, no major injuries... a skinned knee, a jammed finger are about the extent of the acute problems. A sore back, sore arms, aching hips and a drastic decrease in ease of mobility (and that nice dull, throbbing ache with just sitting) are the order of the day.
I rescheduled the appointment to do the paperwork for the home health agency until tomorrow. Seems they have lots of peds that I can do on the weekends! Gotta love it! LOL
I haven't shown any signs of bruising from the fall (yet). And, I'm supposing that when they do show up...
There's no nice way to put this... I'm scheduling my appointment Monday, as soon as I find out which practitioners are covered on my new insurance plan...
I think I have cancer. Possibly a lymphoma... non-Hodgkins... Haven't had any of the fevers, or localized lymphadenopathy (swelling and tenderness of the lymph nodes) that are typical with Hodgkins.
I have two bruises on my right, outer lower leg that have remained relatively unfaded and hard for more than a month now. I had an extreme bout of itching (that's putting it VERY MILDLY... OK, I was about to overdose on Benadryl it was so bad for about 5 or 6 days) in May that I attributed to an allergic reaction to the St. Johns Wort/Griffonia Seed compound that I was trying for an holistic alternative to commerical pharmaceutical antidepressant therapy. When I showed no hives, I then assumed it to be some type of vasculitis related to the autoimmune disorder with the rheumatoid. I have had a congested cough for three? four? weeks now that I attributed mainly to my allergies and the bad air quality... Should have thought about it sooner, though... non-productive, moist cough. And, when I was on the telemetry unit Memorial Day weekend, before I had my cardiac cath, there were abnormalities with my iron studies and some minor things with my blood count.
It wasn't until I became concerned with this nonhealing bruising within the last week or so that I began to put all of the symptomology together.
Oh yeah... I had a couple of glasses of red wine over the weekend and got some pain in the regions of various lymph node clusters... another indicator.
And, then there's the fatigue, which I just chalk up to the RA.
I've had a lot of capillary fragility due to the years of steroid therapy, so bruising doesn't really set off an altert with me. However, unknown (all of my bruising tends to be of relatively unknown origin) bruising that remains this long...
I told Amanda last night that I think I may have cancer. Just told her there's no nice way to put this.... so.... Told her about the bruising, the itching, the cough, the blood abnormalities.... What it all added up as a possible cause....
I really hope I'm wrong. Cancer would be such a pain in my ass. Just one of those things in life that anyone can best do without.
We have the Arthur G. James Cancer Hospital and Richard J. Solove Research Institute (sounds so very, very impressive) here. However, me being me, I'll probably go the Mt. Carmel/Trinity Health route. LMAO Not only do I work for them...
I really wanted to work for them for a reason... I love the philosophy. "Mount Carmel and Trinity Helath were established on a foundation of faith-based principles: Respect, Social Justice, Compassion, Care of the Poor and Underserved, and Excellence. These principles and the Mission serve as a compass to guide our ongoing health care ministry." That mission statement is posted in all Mt. Carmel facilities. On the front cover of the booklet that outlines our organizational integrity program is "But as for me, I will walk in my integrity. PSALM 26:11."
Unfortunately, I don't/can't do the hospital thing any more, and the turn-over rate in the offices are very low. So.... and, as we know, God somehow managed to work out a job for me in an office that I neither applied for or applied to... still makes me LMAO!!
So, I think I'm going to start where I believe...
That's how my week is shaping-up so far. I'm pondering some things, cultivating peace... Funny how your perspective begins to shift and reshape your priorities and the things that seem "important."
The job offers are flooding in. One thing about my industry... it takes forever sometimes to get a job. I was to have an appointment this morning with an agency to do home health for pediatrics. A tumble down my daughter's back steps last evening (Calling myself doing her a favor and taking out the trash.) has left me very stiff and sore and aching. Fortunately, no major injuries... a skinned knee, a jammed finger are about the extent of the acute problems. A sore back, sore arms, aching hips and a drastic decrease in ease of mobility (and that nice dull, throbbing ache with just sitting) are the order of the day.
I rescheduled the appointment to do the paperwork for the home health agency until tomorrow. Seems they have lots of peds that I can do on the weekends! Gotta love it! LOL
I haven't shown any signs of bruising from the fall (yet). And, I'm supposing that when they do show up...
There's no nice way to put this... I'm scheduling my appointment Monday, as soon as I find out which practitioners are covered on my new insurance plan...
I think I have cancer. Possibly a lymphoma... non-Hodgkins... Haven't had any of the fevers, or localized lymphadenopathy (swelling and tenderness of the lymph nodes) that are typical with Hodgkins.
I have two bruises on my right, outer lower leg that have remained relatively unfaded and hard for more than a month now. I had an extreme bout of itching (that's putting it VERY MILDLY... OK, I was about to overdose on Benadryl it was so bad for about 5 or 6 days) in May that I attributed to an allergic reaction to the St. Johns Wort/Griffonia Seed compound that I was trying for an holistic alternative to commerical pharmaceutical antidepressant therapy. When I showed no hives, I then assumed it to be some type of vasculitis related to the autoimmune disorder with the rheumatoid. I have had a congested cough for three? four? weeks now that I attributed mainly to my allergies and the bad air quality... Should have thought about it sooner, though... non-productive, moist cough. And, when I was on the telemetry unit Memorial Day weekend, before I had my cardiac cath, there were abnormalities with my iron studies and some minor things with my blood count.
It wasn't until I became concerned with this nonhealing bruising within the last week or so that I began to put all of the symptomology together.
Oh yeah... I had a couple of glasses of red wine over the weekend and got some pain in the regions of various lymph node clusters... another indicator.
And, then there's the fatigue, which I just chalk up to the RA.
I've had a lot of capillary fragility due to the years of steroid therapy, so bruising doesn't really set off an altert with me. However, unknown (all of my bruising tends to be of relatively unknown origin) bruising that remains this long...
I told Amanda last night that I think I may have cancer. Just told her there's no nice way to put this.... so.... Told her about the bruising, the itching, the cough, the blood abnormalities.... What it all added up as a possible cause....
I really hope I'm wrong. Cancer would be such a pain in my ass. Just one of those things in life that anyone can best do without.
We have the Arthur G. James Cancer Hospital and Richard J. Solove Research Institute (sounds so very, very impressive) here. However, me being me, I'll probably go the Mt. Carmel/Trinity Health route. LMAO Not only do I work for them...
I really wanted to work for them for a reason... I love the philosophy. "Mount Carmel and Trinity Helath were established on a foundation of faith-based principles: Respect, Social Justice, Compassion, Care of the Poor and Underserved, and Excellence. These principles and the Mission serve as a compass to guide our ongoing health care ministry." That mission statement is posted in all Mt. Carmel facilities. On the front cover of the booklet that outlines our organizational integrity program is "But as for me, I will walk in my integrity. PSALM 26:11."
Unfortunately, I don't/can't do the hospital thing any more, and the turn-over rate in the offices are very low. So.... and, as we know, God somehow managed to work out a job for me in an office that I neither applied for or applied to... still makes me LMAO!!
So, I think I'm going to start where I believe...
That's how my week is shaping-up so far. I'm pondering some things, cultivating peace... Funny how your perspective begins to shift and reshape your priorities and the things that seem "important."
Saturday, August 2, 2008
The "dog days" of summer are upon us here in Cowlumbus, Ohia. With the combination of the heat, high humidity, UV warnings, and air quality alerts, I have been confined to the relative comfort of air conditioned indoors and relegated to regular usage of antihistamines and inhalers to combat the allergens and airborne pollutants. Thankfully, I do live in a neighborhood where brown lawns become the norm this time of year, so some respite is at hand.
Love our local planning here... One of three bridges into downtown has been closed for replacement for well over five years now - closer to ten I'm fairly certain, but I cannot remember the exact time it was that I chased the thief over the closed bridge... (**you have to love the way my right-brain correlates data...**) Last month, one of the two remaining bridges into downtown (also scheduled for replacement) was ordered permanently closed by the Ohio Department of Transportation due to structural issues. That leaves the one remaining two-way bridge on Broad Street as the only way into downtown. It was bad enough that the Broad Street bridge was the only way OUT of downtown to the West, but to have it as the only access into downtown as well.... And, I will find myself part of that fray on Moanday morning... I am close enough to I-70 that I could attempt that access into the southern edge of downtown/the Brewery District/German Village via that route, but the 70/71 split across downtown is an absolute clusterfuck at the best of travel-times. That section of freeway is the eternal/infernal traffic fatality just waiting to happen. Thank God the Level-1 trauma center at Grant Hospital is about 6 blocks from that particular section of freeway. Many, many people (the ones who actually managed to survive the wrecks that occur on that miserable section of highway, to include my own cousin) owe their very lives to the fact that Grant is that close. Gotta love seeing the helicopters dispatched for a 6 or 8 block flight, but it's necessary for the survival of the victims.
Having spent some time on the trauma unit and in various long-term sub acute units around town, I have had to question exactly why we save some of these people. People on vents in persistent vegetative states, people missing large portions of their brains... permanently restrained, unable to speak or understand, barely able to see, heavily medicated to prevent self-injury and control the persistent, violent rocking and writhing movements... Why do we do this to people? We save their lives to allow them to live at what quality of life?
When I was a much younger nurse, I was convinced that trauma medicine was the place to be. As an older and more jaded (and perhaps a bit wiser, at least a bit more introspective) nurse, I have to ask myself "why?" I will admit that I have formulated no rational, logical answers. I have come up with no answers at all, to be truthful, but at least the process of examining the practice allows me to be able to sleep at night.
Granted, many people (including my cousin) have been given that "second chance" and go on to live productive lives. Many do not, however. Who is to decide? At what level does the cost out-weigh the benefit, not initially, but long-term? Trauma medicine is a money-losing service in itself... another prohibitively expensive health-care quandary/boondoggle irrespective of any moral, ethical, or ideological considerations. Sort of like cancer care and treatment. Cancer research, however, is a tremendously lucrative venture... ~~digression to be better served at another time, LOL. I will merely close that particular avenue at this point by stating that my jaded, cynical self sees that cancer will never be "cured" as there will be waaaaaaay too much money lost by such a particularly fool-hardy action.
Love our local planning here... One of three bridges into downtown has been closed for replacement for well over five years now - closer to ten I'm fairly certain, but I cannot remember the exact time it was that I chased the thief over the closed bridge... (**you have to love the way my right-brain correlates data...**) Last month, one of the two remaining bridges into downtown (also scheduled for replacement) was ordered permanently closed by the Ohio Department of Transportation due to structural issues. That leaves the one remaining two-way bridge on Broad Street as the only way into downtown. It was bad enough that the Broad Street bridge was the only way OUT of downtown to the West, but to have it as the only access into downtown as well.... And, I will find myself part of that fray on Moanday morning... I am close enough to I-70 that I could attempt that access into the southern edge of downtown/the Brewery District/German Village via that route, but the 70/71 split across downtown is an absolute clusterfuck at the best of travel-times. That section of freeway is the eternal/infernal traffic fatality just waiting to happen. Thank God the Level-1 trauma center at Grant Hospital is about 6 blocks from that particular section of freeway. Many, many people (the ones who actually managed to survive the wrecks that occur on that miserable section of highway, to include my own cousin) owe their very lives to the fact that Grant is that close. Gotta love seeing the helicopters dispatched for a 6 or 8 block flight, but it's necessary for the survival of the victims.
Having spent some time on the trauma unit and in various long-term sub acute units around town, I have had to question exactly why we save some of these people. People on vents in persistent vegetative states, people missing large portions of their brains... permanently restrained, unable to speak or understand, barely able to see, heavily medicated to prevent self-injury and control the persistent, violent rocking and writhing movements... Why do we do this to people? We save their lives to allow them to live at what quality of life?
When I was a much younger nurse, I was convinced that trauma medicine was the place to be. As an older and more jaded (and perhaps a bit wiser, at least a bit more introspective) nurse, I have to ask myself "why?" I will admit that I have formulated no rational, logical answers. I have come up with no answers at all, to be truthful, but at least the process of examining the practice allows me to be able to sleep at night.
Granted, many people (including my cousin) have been given that "second chance" and go on to live productive lives. Many do not, however. Who is to decide? At what level does the cost out-weigh the benefit, not initially, but long-term? Trauma medicine is a money-losing service in itself... another prohibitively expensive health-care quandary/boondoggle irrespective of any moral, ethical, or ideological considerations. Sort of like cancer care and treatment. Cancer research, however, is a tremendously lucrative venture... ~~digression to be better served at another time, LOL. I will merely close that particular avenue at this point by stating that my jaded, cynical self sees that cancer will never be "cured" as there will be waaaaaaay too much money lost by such a particularly fool-hardy action.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Staying Alive
Round Two of my employment at Park West came to an end in early June. That ending has brought both relief and hardship, though thankfully, more of the former than the latter. Though I've had to contact Wage & Hour to try and recover salary that they owe me and money has been extremely tight, I am more than thrilled to be away from the malpractice and the drama.
I'm currently doing in-home care for an autistic child (more on that later) and grossly under-employed, yet it's a job so I'm not complaining.
Classes and the ensuing ton of nursing school homework/busy-work are keeping the guy far busier than I would like. But, we're still together... it has been a year. I'm certain that none of the people who know us would have thought that with the major differences in our personalities that we'd have made it together this long.
I am still a bit dismayed with the cultural/male attitude that I'm an "assumed acquired commodity" but hey... I was at his place the other night, and he had to run out to pick up notes from a classmate. I was left at the apartment to my own devices (another first that reiterates that I'm equated to "acquired commodity status") while he ran. He returned and assumed the position in front of the computer for the next round of the previously mentioned busy-work. I watched a bit of the news on the 43-inch LCD TV that gets recpetion on three channels (as it is connected, not to HD cable service, but a set of rabbit ears... omg, he is such a different one...), kissed him goodnight, and told him to wake me when he came to bed.
I had commented to him earlier in the evening that I'm not sure what he is going to do when we are at a point where he sees me daily as it will be so different from how things have been throughout our relationship to this point. I told him he will need to work three jobs in order for things to seem "normal." He laughed.
Tom came from California for a visit with Amanda and the kids. They spent a few days in Pennsylvania with family and attended a family reunion. Amanda was finally able to meet some relatively normal members of the family. Amanda has also determined that her parents are never allowed to be together in the same room - ever. We, her parental units, determined that as her dad only makes it here for a visit every three to five years, she will simply have to deal with it.
Amanda and Tom had gone out to shoot pool one night and managed to be home an hour before last call. OMG, he's getting OLD!! That never would have been the case, even 10 years ago! I had been watching the kiddos while they were out, and had just carried Gabe up to bed at 1:30am right before they got home. We were sitting around the living room talking and Amanda was seriously nodding on the love seat. Her dad told her to just go ahead and go up to bed as we would be OK without her. I reminded her that "after all, we are your parents." He laughed and she looked annoyed.
Al stopped in for a couple of brief visits while Tom was here. Olli also met her dad (having met Al the week before her dad's arrival in town). So, Olli was straight as to which dad he could and could not mention certain details. Always a major consideration when dealing with my two exes/her two dads.
YES!!! The phone call finally came!! FULLTIME EMPLOYMENT HAS APPEARED ON THE SCENE!!
The money isn't the greatest, but it's for a pediatric practice affiliated with Mt. Carmel Health Systems. Ergo, excellent benefits. One of the physicians has an integrated practice and does lots of special needs kiddos. And, I do really believe in the philosophy of Mt. Carmel - providing service to the under-served and disadvantaged. My health insurance will be about $28 a month and the 401K is available for enrollment immediately and matched fully to 3% and at half to 5%.
The best part about the position is how God worked it out. Especially as I hadn't even applied for this job!! Or even applied at this office.
I had emailed a resume for an office coordinator/nursing position at another practice affiliated with Mt. Carmel. How my resume came to be in the hands of this particular physician/office manager, I have no clue.
I went for an interview late one afternoon last week. The weather was miserably hot and humid - heat index near 100, with the actual temperature itself above 90 - and my daughter's van has no working air conditioning. So, what to wear for this interview was quickly becoming a dilemma. Being that I'm very much a "what you see is what you get" person, it was even more of a challenge.
I opted for a long, sleeveless rayon dress in a dark blue print. It was nice enough to look good, still me, and weather-survivable.
On being ushered into the back office, the physician greeted me first. She stated that she had not intended to even be present for my interview as she had a previous commitment, but when she had seen me in the waiting room, she KNEW that she simply had to meet me.
As it turns out, her previous commitiment was the charity medical clinic that is organized and run by one of the larger, nondenominational churches in the area. The large nondenomination church that is right up the road, pretty much, from the large nondenominational church with which I am affiliated. So, it turns out that we're on the same page on the important things.
You just have to love how God chooses to do things.
His way. His timing. His purposes.
I will be primarily this physician's nurse, though there is another physician in the office - with a completely different type of practice (again, another more on that later), and they are looking to add a fulltime nurse practitioner to the practice. The offer had already been made to the nurse practitioner, but there was no word yet (as of my interview day) on whether or not she had decided to accept the offer. So, exactly what my job description/duties will be is subject to change depending on how the office practice may be restructured, but I'm flexible. And, new challenges and changes are always fun.
Still, too funny about how God decides to do things.
Even funnier, I had no idea that I would be receiving this phone call a couple of hours after I logged on to begin writing this post this morning.
I'll have to call the y-chromosome person and let him know. He's at work, so I'll make it after all of the administrative "powers that be" have left grounds for the day... which should be around 3:30 as it's Friday. Was planning on calling him later today anyway to suggest that he pick me up tomorrow after work and drop me back home Sunday morning on his way back to work. As he won't stay here because he's worried that the German Shepherd dog would bark at him.
Oh, he is so going to love the male Jack Russell Terrier that I gift to him. I am greatly anticipating the 5-pound dog standing in the middle of the bed barking and growling and telling him "my mommy!" I am also anticipating the dog vs the expensive leather living room furniture (if only in my dreams!! ~evil laugh and wicked grin~).
It's time to get moving on some lunch for the kiddos.
More later....
I'm currently doing in-home care for an autistic child (more on that later) and grossly under-employed, yet it's a job so I'm not complaining.
Classes and the ensuing ton of nursing school homework/busy-work are keeping the guy far busier than I would like. But, we're still together... it has been a year. I'm certain that none of the people who know us would have thought that with the major differences in our personalities that we'd have made it together this long.
I am still a bit dismayed with the cultural/male attitude that I'm an "assumed acquired commodity" but hey... I was at his place the other night, and he had to run out to pick up notes from a classmate. I was left at the apartment to my own devices (another first that reiterates that I'm equated to "acquired commodity status") while he ran. He returned and assumed the position in front of the computer for the next round of the previously mentioned busy-work. I watched a bit of the news on the 43-inch LCD TV that gets recpetion on three channels (as it is connected, not to HD cable service, but a set of rabbit ears... omg, he is such a different one...), kissed him goodnight, and told him to wake me when he came to bed.
I had commented to him earlier in the evening that I'm not sure what he is going to do when we are at a point where he sees me daily as it will be so different from how things have been throughout our relationship to this point. I told him he will need to work three jobs in order for things to seem "normal." He laughed.
Tom came from California for a visit with Amanda and the kids. They spent a few days in Pennsylvania with family and attended a family reunion. Amanda was finally able to meet some relatively normal members of the family. Amanda has also determined that her parents are never allowed to be together in the same room - ever. We, her parental units, determined that as her dad only makes it here for a visit every three to five years, she will simply have to deal with it.
Amanda and Tom had gone out to shoot pool one night and managed to be home an hour before last call. OMG, he's getting OLD!! That never would have been the case, even 10 years ago! I had been watching the kiddos while they were out, and had just carried Gabe up to bed at 1:30am right before they got home. We were sitting around the living room talking and Amanda was seriously nodding on the love seat. Her dad told her to just go ahead and go up to bed as we would be OK without her. I reminded her that "after all, we are your parents." He laughed and she looked annoyed.
Al stopped in for a couple of brief visits while Tom was here. Olli also met her dad (having met Al the week before her dad's arrival in town). So, Olli was straight as to which dad he could and could not mention certain details. Always a major consideration when dealing with my two exes/her two dads.
YES!!! The phone call finally came!! FULLTIME EMPLOYMENT HAS APPEARED ON THE SCENE!!
The money isn't the greatest, but it's for a pediatric practice affiliated with Mt. Carmel Health Systems. Ergo, excellent benefits. One of the physicians has an integrated practice and does lots of special needs kiddos. And, I do really believe in the philosophy of Mt. Carmel - providing service to the under-served and disadvantaged. My health insurance will be about $28 a month and the 401K is available for enrollment immediately and matched fully to 3% and at half to 5%.
The best part about the position is how God worked it out. Especially as I hadn't even applied for this job!! Or even applied at this office.
I had emailed a resume for an office coordinator/nursing position at another practice affiliated with Mt. Carmel. How my resume came to be in the hands of this particular physician/office manager, I have no clue.
I went for an interview late one afternoon last week. The weather was miserably hot and humid - heat index near 100, with the actual temperature itself above 90 - and my daughter's van has no working air conditioning. So, what to wear for this interview was quickly becoming a dilemma. Being that I'm very much a "what you see is what you get" person, it was even more of a challenge.
I opted for a long, sleeveless rayon dress in a dark blue print. It was nice enough to look good, still me, and weather-survivable.
On being ushered into the back office, the physician greeted me first. She stated that she had not intended to even be present for my interview as she had a previous commitment, but when she had seen me in the waiting room, she KNEW that she simply had to meet me.
As it turns out, her previous commitiment was the charity medical clinic that is organized and run by one of the larger, nondenominational churches in the area. The large nondenomination church that is right up the road, pretty much, from the large nondenominational church with which I am affiliated. So, it turns out that we're on the same page on the important things.
You just have to love how God chooses to do things.
His way. His timing. His purposes.
I will be primarily this physician's nurse, though there is another physician in the office - with a completely different type of practice (again, another more on that later), and they are looking to add a fulltime nurse practitioner to the practice. The offer had already been made to the nurse practitioner, but there was no word yet (as of my interview day) on whether or not she had decided to accept the offer. So, exactly what my job description/duties will be is subject to change depending on how the office practice may be restructured, but I'm flexible. And, new challenges and changes are always fun.
Still, too funny about how God decides to do things.
Even funnier, I had no idea that I would be receiving this phone call a couple of hours after I logged on to begin writing this post this morning.
I'll have to call the y-chromosome person and let him know. He's at work, so I'll make it after all of the administrative "powers that be" have left grounds for the day... which should be around 3:30 as it's Friday. Was planning on calling him later today anyway to suggest that he pick me up tomorrow after work and drop me back home Sunday morning on his way back to work. As he won't stay here because he's worried that the German Shepherd dog would bark at him.
Oh, he is so going to love the male Jack Russell Terrier that I gift to him. I am greatly anticipating the 5-pound dog standing in the middle of the bed barking and growling and telling him "my mommy!" I am also anticipating the dog vs the expensive leather living room furniture (if only in my dreams!! ~evil laugh and wicked grin~).
It's time to get moving on some lunch for the kiddos.
More later....
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Life Goes On
I was awakened last Monday by a telephone call from Annie, the administrative assistant at our corporate office. (Translation: The secretary who secretly runs everything.) She was phoning me because the people who had volunteered to make the quilt from the blocks had no idea how to do such a thing. Her tone was almost that they (the supported living division) hated to put upon me to ask if I could do it. As I work for a separate division, and this was “their” project, not “ours.” In truth, I felt very honored to be able to be able to put these individual expressions into a singular, creative whole.
As I spent last week ill from the kiddie krud, staying with the rotation of ailing children who could not go to the babysitter’s, and still having to work over-time because I have no nurses/am short on competent nurses, I could not get started on the quilt until this week.
So, I have spent the last two days at the corporate office piecing the blocks together. And, I’ve had a wonderful time and received a bit of an epiphany.
Being a quilter, I subscribe to the methodology of modern quilt making. Rotary cutting, strip piecing…. Speed and precision is the name of the game.
It isn’t working with this quilt.
The squares of fabric had all been cut by hand. Not one of them is exact same size or shape. No uniformity what so ever. Some of the blocks that the clients made from the squares have embellishments that go completely to the edge of the block. No room for seam allowance.
So, I’m having to do this quilt the “old fashioned” way. Take each block individually, give it the particular attention that it requires in order to be able to piece it into the whole, and one-by-one, add it in.
As I was fidgeting with these blocks yesterday morning, it occurred to me that this quilt represents exactly what it is that we do as a company.
The individual blocks that our clients made are a personal, unique reflection just as each of them is a unique being with different interests and different abilities. Those blocks are just like all people. We are very similar, we all have the same basic components, but no two of us are alike. We are all a bit non-uniform and have our own particular quirks.
In modern quilt making, there are degrees of “one size fits all” methods of doing things. With this set of blocks as with our set of clients, there is nothing that is standardized and uniform and applied unilaterally. We must tailor each thing that we do for that particular individual to their particular needs. Just as I must take each individual quilt block and give it the particular attention that it requires.
This quilt is an exact representation of what it is that we do as a company. It was a very cool thing to realize that.
The supported living staff has been very appreciative of my efforts in assembling the quilt. The director of that division commented to me that their clients had simply fallen in love with me during the day of block making. I guess several of the clients had told their family members about me and the families had called the office to relay this information to the administrative staff, as to how appreciative they were that one of the nurses from another part of the company would come and take the time to do this type of activity. As I told Becky, I enjoyed making the new friends that I had made that day.
For me, being able to put this quilt together is an honor and a privilege. It took the office staff of the other division a couple of days to realize that. They had initially felt that in asking me to have to do this for them that I was being “put upon.” I am really glad to see that they have realized that is not the case.
Yesterday was May 6th, the one-year anniversary of my dad’s death. As I was running home at lunch time to grab a couple of more handy widgets from my sewing box in order to better work on some of these quilt blocks, I thought I should give my mom and my sister a call at the ice cream shop. Realizing the time, I figured I would wait until the lunch rush was over.
Just as I was pulling back into the parking lot at the corporate office, my phone rang. It was my baby sister. I told her I had thought about ringing her up but had decided to wait a bit. She asked if I was working. I told her I was at the corporate office working on the quilt. “I know you’re loving that,” she replied.
Everyone was meeting for dinner at 5:30. I told her that I had to pick Amanda up from work at 5:15 and wouldn’t be able to make it to dinner. She told me that they had set Dad’s headstone on the grave this last weekend.
His headstone, it would seem, is the only one in the entire cemetery that is truly facing the “right” direction. The cemetery borders a river. Everyone is buried with their feet towards the river. Therefore, all of the headstones are placed at everyone’s feet. You gotta love my mom…. Dad’s headstone is at the head of the grave with the information facing towards the river, towards his body…. Completely backwards from every other headstone in the graveyard! LMAO only my family!!
That’s what my Dad gets for wanting that plot right up by the road and having to have us drive by and see him every time we head to the house! Yes, I still think he’s an asshole for having done that to us intentionally. That’s OK; I wouldn’t want him to be any other way. As I drive by, I wave and say hi to him and cuss him for being such an asshole for doing that.
I made it through most of yesterday OK. It was the quilt that kept me busy and focused. At some point, I realized that the shirt I had grabbed from the top of the laundry basket and put on was my “ICU sweater” that I had crocheted last year when dad was in the hospital. I even managed to maintain after that realization.
The drive to pick Amanda up from work yesterday was longer than expected. Traffic on the interstate was at a dead stand still due to an accident. I had picked up the kids from the sitter’s, stopped by the house and told them to get something to occupy themselves with for the drive. By the time we piled back into the van, it was reported that there had been traffic accidents at BOTH of the alternative routes that I could have used. Just figures.
Off we went. It took 50 minutes to make what is normally a 12-minute drive. Getting home was nearly as nightmarish. We had left the house at 4:40pm and finally arrived back home around 6:15pm.
Things, being how things generally seem to go in my life, continued as “normal.” I think both of my cell phones may be ruined from being drenched by a single coffee spill. I have more paperwork and forms to update for work than I care to think about. My house seriously needs cleaned.
And, just to give you an idea of how bad things really are… I’m choosing the “cleaning house” option.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Sagas of Domestic Bliss, Tales of Angst, Hard Work Builds Character, and Other Woes of Life in the Wasteland
The pilot has activated the "No Smoking" and "Fasten Seatbelts" signs. Please extinguish all smoking materials, fasten your seatbelts, and return your tray tables to their upright and locked position. Thank you.
And, thank you for indulging that gratuitous flash-back moment.
Spring has finally arrived in the greater central Ohio region. Along with it, the blossoming of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in my front yard. It has sent me running for routine and supplemental allergy medications and breathing aids. In the vernacular, it would be known as a cherry tree. In my world, it is a blessing and a curse, thus the allusion.
The fresh cherries plucked feet from the front porch come July are wonderful things. The blossoms in early spring are one of the things in this life to which I am most allergic. Last spring brought a late frost which caused most of the blossoms to fall. The few cherries last summer were left as food for the birds. The respite from the blossoms was a blessing, but the sight of those few elusive fruits on the tree was disheartening. Last week, the tree erupted into full bloom and I was well into an episode of bronchitis by Saturday. There was a potential for a frost as well last week, and some of the less densely packed urban areas did show frost. The moral quandary of the seasonal destiny of that tree was at hand...
The reality of the life-span of both blossoms and ripe cherries was pondered. In the end, though in great physical distress, I decided that I would rather have cherries to share with neighbors, birds, grandchildren, and anonymous passersby... I'm such a putz.
Routine vehicle maintenance was the order of the day for yesterday. The ensuing problems were more than to be expected and proved to be more than merely frustrating and expensive. The day ended with me exhausted and a migraine screaming in my head when I finally collapsed into bed at 8:30 last night.
I picked up my phone, meaning to leave a voice mail for that man who puts up with me. He answered instead. Knowing he was still at work, I mumbled something about just having gotten to bed and to call me when he got off. He complied about 30 minutes later, waking me from the sleep of the dead. I rambled some incoherent things in apology for being about to cancel our time together last night. "So you're not coming then?" "No. I'm really sorry."
There was a bit more rambling in there on my part, but I cannot remember how much or what was said. It bothered me greatly to be too exhausted and too ill to spend time with him. Our time together is too rare these days. It bothered me so much that at some point I dreamed that he told me he no longer loved me and was breaking up with me in order to be with one of the nurses and one of the staff. I cannot remember who the staff was, but the nurse is engaged to an pregnant by her long-time and long-intended future husband. It also distressed me to the point that I remember in my dream trying to strangle the other women. I also attempted to dispose of them in other unremembered ways. I cannot remember what I attempted to inflict upon him. At some point, a past residence, now completely remodeled and with several additions as to be chateau-like appeared in that or some other completely unremembered dream.
I phoned him this morning to apologize coherently and told him of the dream brought about my exhausted and distressed state of being.
~~~~ unfinished but posted anyway~~~~
And, thank you for indulging that gratuitous flash-back moment.
Spring has finally arrived in the greater central Ohio region. Along with it, the blossoming of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in my front yard. It has sent me running for routine and supplemental allergy medications and breathing aids. In the vernacular, it would be known as a cherry tree. In my world, it is a blessing and a curse, thus the allusion.
The fresh cherries plucked feet from the front porch come July are wonderful things. The blossoms in early spring are one of the things in this life to which I am most allergic. Last spring brought a late frost which caused most of the blossoms to fall. The few cherries last summer were left as food for the birds. The respite from the blossoms was a blessing, but the sight of those few elusive fruits on the tree was disheartening. Last week, the tree erupted into full bloom and I was well into an episode of bronchitis by Saturday. There was a potential for a frost as well last week, and some of the less densely packed urban areas did show frost. The moral quandary of the seasonal destiny of that tree was at hand...
The reality of the life-span of both blossoms and ripe cherries was pondered. In the end, though in great physical distress, I decided that I would rather have cherries to share with neighbors, birds, grandchildren, and anonymous passersby... I'm such a putz.
Routine vehicle maintenance was the order of the day for yesterday. The ensuing problems were more than to be expected and proved to be more than merely frustrating and expensive. The day ended with me exhausted and a migraine screaming in my head when I finally collapsed into bed at 8:30 last night.
I picked up my phone, meaning to leave a voice mail for that man who puts up with me. He answered instead. Knowing he was still at work, I mumbled something about just having gotten to bed and to call me when he got off. He complied about 30 minutes later, waking me from the sleep of the dead. I rambled some incoherent things in apology for being about to cancel our time together last night. "So you're not coming then?" "No. I'm really sorry."
There was a bit more rambling in there on my part, but I cannot remember how much or what was said. It bothered me greatly to be too exhausted and too ill to spend time with him. Our time together is too rare these days. It bothered me so much that at some point I dreamed that he told me he no longer loved me and was breaking up with me in order to be with one of the nurses and one of the staff. I cannot remember who the staff was, but the nurse is engaged to an pregnant by her long-time and long-intended future husband. It also distressed me to the point that I remember in my dream trying to strangle the other women. I also attempted to dispose of them in other unremembered ways. I cannot remember what I attempted to inflict upon him. At some point, a past residence, now completely remodeled and with several additions as to be chateau-like appeared in that or some other completely unremembered dream.
I phoned him this morning to apologize coherently and told him of the dream brought about my exhausted and distressed state of being.
~~~~ unfinished but posted anyway~~~~
Monday, March 17, 2008
Friday, March 14, 2008
Of Chaos, Ghosts, and Miscellaneous Mayhem
I'm calling myself getting ready for work...
Nine Inch Nails' Ghosts I-IV is providing the background soundtrack. Google it for the reviews and opinions of Trent's decision to release the album independently via various download/torrent sites. After you have perused the particulars, download it and listen. I was sorely tempted to order the $75 Deluxe (or wtf-ever it was called) package. In the end, I opted for the $10 two CD package & the instant access mp3 download link. Though the pricier package satiated my Halo collection fetish more completely, the package I purchased was more suited to the impending changes in lifestyle. ...have laptop & DVD RWs, mp3 player & micro SD cards, digital camera, brown babies, pointy sticks & drop spindle... will travel...
I have been absent from this log for so long. I'm not sure where to begin with the "catch up." It isn't that I have not wanted to write. Existence simply got in the way of living for a while.
Work remains overwhelming at points. I could do with some Xanax a couple of times a week. However, I know that my physician's response to that request will be that I don't need to be working that job if it requires medication of that type in order to be able to do it.
Amanda was on the losing end of an auto accident involving a city bus a couple of weeks back. Only one of the five kiddos was in the van with her, fortunately. Unfortunately, he sustained a skull fracture and four tears in his colon which necessitated emergency abdominal surgery. Not one of the eight airbags deployed in the total of three collisions in this accident. You purchase a $40K kid kart with all these safety features for one reason. This is not looking good for General Motors.
I have continued to be relegated to the sidelines as a "study widow." Final exams finished this week. One week of respite to commence. I don't have as much comp time as I would like to have had, having used some of it with watching kiddos while my daughter was encamped at the hospital.
Winter seemed to have taken its final, dying gasp last weekend with the dumping twenty inches of snow in about 14 hours beginning in the wee hours of Saturday morning. The wind continued blowing too much on Saturday afternoon to make any attempt at moving the volumes of white stuff more than an exercise in futility.
I had run about for 12 hours Friday night in the blowing and ever deepening white stuff. When I went to warm my car Saturday morning for the drive home, I fell in the parking lot on my way to the car and wrenched my back on the left side.
In the Sunday afternoon calm, the shovelling began in earnest, and I wrenched my back on the right side. At least I was equally matched though quite in pain.
The temperatures climbed to near 50 on Monday and have remained there nearly all week. Most of the mountains of white stuff have disappeared with only a few scattered and dirty piles remaining.
I have been working more on the creative things.
Spring cleaning arrives this week.
An early jaunt in to work is at hand.
The fractal is Madness from Dream Tree Studio www.dreamtreestudio.com
Ciao.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Some Etc
It is a bit after 5am. My wake-sleep cycle is a bit more disrupted than I would have liked it to be. My granddaughter guilted me on Sunday with the, "but I never get to see you." So, I napped for a couple of hours between noon and 2pm, crashed hard before midnight, and was up all day yesterday. I have been up since around 3am.
I will have to get the little boys from the sitter's this afternoon. I may just keep them until Amanda gets home as Linda (the other grandmother) is having a new refrigerator and a new freezer delivered this afternoon. The two older kiddos underfoot is not as miserable a prospect in that scenario as the addition of the two wild boys would be.
It is official. Michael is out of the picture. He left Friday. In many ways it is more of a relief than anything else.
I had finished the throw that I was making him for his birthday yesterday. It was washed and dried and folded on the couch when he arrived unannounced yesterday evening at the house. He seemed very surprised to see me there. I was over doing some laundry for Amanda. Joni had commented that I should give it to him unfinished with the comment that I would have been glad to finish what I had started if he had been willing to finish what he had started. You gotta appreciate the perspective of your friends.
The threatened three to five inches of snow did not materialize. There is maybe 1 1/2" of the white stuff out there. Just enough to be a nuisance to driving and to keep the German Shepherd girl in "revolving door" mode.
For those of you who pray, please say a prayer for my coworker's daughter, Tracy. She is a young woman with pulmonary hypertension that is causing major and cumulative crises in her health. Most of the problems are secondary to the medications that she must take in order to stay alive. I would say "living," but she isn't able to be doing much living at this point. She has extreme weight loss and bone mass loss from the medications. Lots of pain and unable to walk. And, say a prayer for my coworker, Amanda, too. She is dealing with this and with an elderly father located several states away who has had a rapid onset of dementia over the last couple of months. Definitely serves to put much of my petty bitching and drama into perspective.
I suppose things are gradually coming along with my shift in duties and position at work. Not much has really changed. Most of the staff already knew to behave when I was on grounds.
My back and my leg are feeling better after being able to rest for a couple of days after the long week that last week was. I keep reminding myself that I am only going to have to do this for another year or so.
There has been a flurry of buying activity for yarns and beads this last couple of weeks. Gearing up and getting back into the swing of things. It is a welcomed respite. I feel best when I am "making."
On that note, my needles have been waiting patiently, and it is time to take them up.
I will have to get the little boys from the sitter's this afternoon. I may just keep them until Amanda gets home as Linda (the other grandmother) is having a new refrigerator and a new freezer delivered this afternoon. The two older kiddos underfoot is not as miserable a prospect in that scenario as the addition of the two wild boys would be.
It is official. Michael is out of the picture. He left Friday. In many ways it is more of a relief than anything else.
I had finished the throw that I was making him for his birthday yesterday. It was washed and dried and folded on the couch when he arrived unannounced yesterday evening at the house. He seemed very surprised to see me there. I was over doing some laundry for Amanda. Joni had commented that I should give it to him unfinished with the comment that I would have been glad to finish what I had started if he had been willing to finish what he had started. You gotta appreciate the perspective of your friends.
The threatened three to five inches of snow did not materialize. There is maybe 1 1/2" of the white stuff out there. Just enough to be a nuisance to driving and to keep the German Shepherd girl in "revolving door" mode.
For those of you who pray, please say a prayer for my coworker's daughter, Tracy. She is a young woman with pulmonary hypertension that is causing major and cumulative crises in her health. Most of the problems are secondary to the medications that she must take in order to stay alive. I would say "living," but she isn't able to be doing much living at this point. She has extreme weight loss and bone mass loss from the medications. Lots of pain and unable to walk. And, say a prayer for my coworker, Amanda, too. She is dealing with this and with an elderly father located several states away who has had a rapid onset of dementia over the last couple of months. Definitely serves to put much of my petty bitching and drama into perspective.
I suppose things are gradually coming along with my shift in duties and position at work. Not much has really changed. Most of the staff already knew to behave when I was on grounds.
My back and my leg are feeling better after being able to rest for a couple of days after the long week that last week was. I keep reminding myself that I am only going to have to do this for another year or so.
There has been a flurry of buying activity for yarns and beads this last couple of weeks. Gearing up and getting back into the swing of things. It is a welcomed respite. I feel best when I am "making."
On that note, my needles have been waiting patiently, and it is time to take them up.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Carl's Violin
I mentioned the death of one of my patients, Carl, a few weeks ago. In packing up what few boxes of possessions my patients have, the staff came across a violin in a box of unmatched socks at the back of his closet. Being that Carl has had both legs amputated above the knee for the last three years of his life, it was impossible to tell how long the violin had been hidden there. I came to work here 6 years ago and knew nothing of Carl having a violin. I asked some of the "old timers," those who had more than 10 years with the company, and only one of them knew anything about Carl having owned a violin. The others were surprised by this knowledge. Another piece of the enigma that was Carl.
Apparently Carl had this violin when he came to us in the mid-90s. According to the lady who knew about the violin, he had requested new strings for it, but had never seemed inclined to ever play it once he was living with us. That is very sad to me. While we do give many things to the people who live with us, we take away as well.
As he had no living family to give his things to, I put in a bid to purchase the violin. The money being used for our contribution account which purchases birthday and Christmas gifts for our residents. There was a note in my mailbox last week that I had won the violin. I will have it examined and appraised. If it is worth more than what I paid, I will donate additional money. It is for the my residents, after all.
So, I will always have a tangible bit of the quandary that was Carl. I think it would please Carl to know that this cast-off dream/treasure of his means a great deal to me. That the mystery behind it will always remain a mystery would please Carl even more. He left a legacy in the memories and in the stories. He will be greatly missed by all who knew him. God has never made another treasure quite like Carl.
Carl had been "in the system" years and years ago. He was living at one of the developmental centers when he had walked away and assumed another life. He lived and worked in society for many, many years undetected. It was only when he had reached 65 and went to apply for his social security that he was found out. Being the system, he was immediately "re-placed" into an institutional living situation. How sad for him.
It had probably taken 10 years back in the system before he found his way to us. Being that records were so very poorly kept by the state when it came to the institutionalized mentally retarded, we had very little history of his actual life, inside or outside of the system.
Carl was a wonderful, colorful historian in relating his life adventures. In one moment, he would tell you of his time in the Army. In the next, he would relate crossing the Delaware River with George Washington. As I said to my friend, Al, was he crazy or is there really some merit to this past life mumbo-jumbo? All that I can say for certain is, that was Carl. And the void left by his absence from our lives will never be filled.
Life still goes on.
Payday was last Thursday. When I had met with my supervisor and Barb regarding taking the night shift supervisor position, Barb had decided to make my status change effective 1 February. Brian insisted I get my check and call him back immediately. Well, things being things, it was nearly 1am before I finally opened my paycheck. Can you say, salary. This was for the pay period which ended 18 January. Our meeting had been on 14 January. Abrupt and uninformed changes in plans had occurred. In our current pay period, I had overtime this last week, as well as worked holiday pay. Had I known that I had already been changed to salary, I certainly would not have worked the MLK holiday. I would have taken it off along with the rest of the salaried folks. And, I certainly would not have put in 56 hours this week.
In going to salaried supervisor, I received a $1 an hour raise. $80 more per pay period translated to an additional $100 in taxes being taken from my pay check. So, I'm actually $20 less in net pay than I was before this whole thing began. LOL Just figures, doesn't it?
I received my company cell phone last week, the surest sign that I have been officially damned to hell. The only good thing about it is that my company phone is a Razr. It came with a car charger and a blue tooth adapter. As my personal cell phone is a Razr, I can use the car and blue tooth accessories with it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A mere 21 hours later, I have returned. Isn't modern technology wonderful?
It is 3am. I should be headed to Wal-Mart or to work or, at least, to the shower. I have had coffee, chatted with Genny and Al, and ignored various household chores since rolling out of bed at 10pm.
I could not get to sleep today. Hate when that happens. I fell asleep somewhere after 3pm, after relenting and taking another Melatonin and a Flexeril.
I received my bamboo and soy yarns today from Canada! Yippee!! They were here Thursday, but I was not awake to sign for them & only today got 'round to the post office to collect them. They are lovely. omg! Nice hand, nice sheen, nice elasticity. I can't wait to start working with them. (I promised myself to do SOMETHING with this house before I set needles to them, and I suppose sorting beads doesn't really count.)
I also ordered the bamboo needles from the same company. They should be here next week. I sort of took it to the extreme with the needles. As I had lamented about having to use those horrid plastic over-sized needles on my sweater and did confess to ordering over-sized wooden ones from the Canadian company...
Well, I bought all of the over-sized ones that they offer. US 17,18, 19, 35, 50. I bought a complete set of bamboo straight needles US 0 through 15. I also bought a set of 16" circular bamboo needles in the same sizes, 0 through 15 - necessary for those hats and sleeves. OK, desirable for those hats & sleeves. I bought double pointed needles, 8" length - 0 through 11, 12" length - 0 through 15. And, I bought a set of bamboo crochet hooks. I simply like working with bamboo and wooden needles the best.
The swallow casein needles are nice but tend to be a bit "sticky" with some types of yarns. They would be my second favorite needles to use. Unfortunately, I do not believe that they come in circular needles. Well, that may be a good thing or I would have to set after acquiring those particular implements of construction as well.
Back to the sweater which I was attempting to construct on these wretched needles which spawned this buying frenzy. (I spent very wisely, all-in-all... 4 complete sets of needles, one set of crochet hooks, 5 sets of over-sized needles for less than $80. Still less than $100 including shipping from Canada. Try and get that here in the U.S. A set of Clover 13" bamboo single point needles, US 0 through 15, alone will cost more than $70.) The idea of knitting any further on the sweater with those wretched needles was appalling to me. As plastic needles tend to be "sticky," my stitches were not at optimum consistently. I contemplated simply awaiting the arrival of the new wooden needles and going on with the project from my stopping point. In the end, I succumbed and "frogged." (rip-it, rip-it) That's why it's called frogging. Seriously! LOL As I often reiterate to my granddaughter, "You cannot knit if you are afraid to rip."
So, I have ripped my beautiful strands of mohair and ribbon back into their respective balls and await the arrival of the more suitable construction tools, and I am thankful that this pattern says this sweater can be constructed in approximately 5 hours.
In organizing the studio, I think I have some needles that I will be listing on eBay. I also have a couple of books that I found on clearance and purchased specifically for that purpose. Very nice books from a popular series but not my style. However, the price did make them quite attractive for resale.
Construction of the throw that I am crocheting for my son-in-law is moving along quite nicely. I was joking with him that I may actually have it finished before the cold weather disappears. Given that I really like how it is turning out, I bought a similar type of bulky chenille yarn from the same vendor in an off-white cotton/tencel blend. I bought 9 pounds of the stuff! That will be an over-sized comfy throw for the y-chromosome person of significance.
He was apologetic for being overwhelmed with school when I saw him this weekend. Obstetrics and pediatrics will generally do that to you. Why nursing programs insist on teaching those two areas of very specialized curriculum together is beyond me. The scopes of practice are so very unique to each of those fields that it boggles the mind. The rules for pediatrics are different than for adults, and obstetrics is its own area altogether. There are areas of cross-over in other areas of practice.... med/surg and orthopedics, rheumatology and orthopedics, gastroenterology and endocrinology.... And, there are rules that are practiced by multiple disciplines - cardiology and pulmonology, hematology and immunology... It is insanity to try and learn two unique areas of practice, such as OB and pediatrics, together. Yet, programs do it. They may as well just incorporate anesthesiology into the same term and give you all three strikes! LOL
I sometimes wonder if it fails to register with him that I have already "been there, done that, got the t-shirt." All of this knowledge is just innate to my being, and I didn't have to spend months poring over over-priced texts and be at the hospital before daylight and leave long after dark. I didn't write volumes and volumes of pointless case studies and care plans in order to "get the big picture" of how the nursing process fits into the framework of medical diagnostics. I didn't have to research every one of the fourteen medications that my patient was prescribed - drug classification, uses, correct dosages, side-effects, interactions, pertinent laboratory monitoring, patient teaching... Nope. I was just born Mother Superior of Nurses from Hell.
You know, I would be very, very content to leave the field of nursing in his hands and stay home all day to play with the brown babies. I would have no problem at all handing over the reins to the next generation of nurses. However, I don't see that happening immediately. I see us working for the traveling service for part of the year and vacationing the rest of the year. Three months in Southern California, six weeks in Italy. Three months in Seattle, six weeks in the U.K. Three months in Denver, six weeks in Australia. It would be a rough life, but I think we could manage. Two nursing placements for the price of one housing unit. Such a deal! Though, if there were babies along, I would only work part-time. Good money, no housing expense. Nice way to travel the country for a couple of years. Well suited to our vagabond souls.
It has become early in the morning once again. Time to get on with my day.
Apparently Carl had this violin when he came to us in the mid-90s. According to the lady who knew about the violin, he had requested new strings for it, but had never seemed inclined to ever play it once he was living with us. That is very sad to me. While we do give many things to the people who live with us, we take away as well.
As he had no living family to give his things to, I put in a bid to purchase the violin. The money being used for our contribution account which purchases birthday and Christmas gifts for our residents. There was a note in my mailbox last week that I had won the violin. I will have it examined and appraised. If it is worth more than what I paid, I will donate additional money. It is for the my residents, after all.
So, I will always have a tangible bit of the quandary that was Carl. I think it would please Carl to know that this cast-off dream/treasure of his means a great deal to me. That the mystery behind it will always remain a mystery would please Carl even more. He left a legacy in the memories and in the stories. He will be greatly missed by all who knew him. God has never made another treasure quite like Carl.
Carl had been "in the system" years and years ago. He was living at one of the developmental centers when he had walked away and assumed another life. He lived and worked in society for many, many years undetected. It was only when he had reached 65 and went to apply for his social security that he was found out. Being the system, he was immediately "re-placed" into an institutional living situation. How sad for him.
It had probably taken 10 years back in the system before he found his way to us. Being that records were so very poorly kept by the state when it came to the institutionalized mentally retarded, we had very little history of his actual life, inside or outside of the system.
Carl was a wonderful, colorful historian in relating his life adventures. In one moment, he would tell you of his time in the Army. In the next, he would relate crossing the Delaware River with George Washington. As I said to my friend, Al, was he crazy or is there really some merit to this past life mumbo-jumbo? All that I can say for certain is, that was Carl. And the void left by his absence from our lives will never be filled.
Life still goes on.
Payday was last Thursday. When I had met with my supervisor and Barb regarding taking the night shift supervisor position, Barb had decided to make my status change effective 1 February. Brian insisted I get my check and call him back immediately. Well, things being things, it was nearly 1am before I finally opened my paycheck. Can you say, salary. This was for the pay period which ended 18 January. Our meeting had been on 14 January. Abrupt and uninformed changes in plans had occurred. In our current pay period, I had overtime this last week, as well as worked holiday pay. Had I known that I had already been changed to salary, I certainly would not have worked the MLK holiday. I would have taken it off along with the rest of the salaried folks. And, I certainly would not have put in 56 hours this week.
In going to salaried supervisor, I received a $1 an hour raise. $80 more per pay period translated to an additional $100 in taxes being taken from my pay check. So, I'm actually $20 less in net pay than I was before this whole thing began. LOL Just figures, doesn't it?
I received my company cell phone last week, the surest sign that I have been officially damned to hell. The only good thing about it is that my company phone is a Razr. It came with a car charger and a blue tooth adapter. As my personal cell phone is a Razr, I can use the car and blue tooth accessories with it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A mere 21 hours later, I have returned. Isn't modern technology wonderful?
It is 3am. I should be headed to Wal-Mart or to work or, at least, to the shower. I have had coffee, chatted with Genny and Al, and ignored various household chores since rolling out of bed at 10pm.
I could not get to sleep today. Hate when that happens. I fell asleep somewhere after 3pm, after relenting and taking another Melatonin and a Flexeril.
I received my bamboo and soy yarns today from Canada! Yippee!! They were here Thursday, but I was not awake to sign for them & only today got 'round to the post office to collect them. They are lovely. omg! Nice hand, nice sheen, nice elasticity. I can't wait to start working with them. (I promised myself to do SOMETHING with this house before I set needles to them, and I suppose sorting beads doesn't really count.)
I also ordered the bamboo needles from the same company. They should be here next week. I sort of took it to the extreme with the needles. As I had lamented about having to use those horrid plastic over-sized needles on my sweater and did confess to ordering over-sized wooden ones from the Canadian company...
Well, I bought all of the over-sized ones that they offer. US 17,18, 19, 35, 50. I bought a complete set of bamboo straight needles US 0 through 15. I also bought a set of 16" circular bamboo needles in the same sizes, 0 through 15 - necessary for those hats and sleeves. OK, desirable for those hats & sleeves. I bought double pointed needles, 8" length - 0 through 11, 12" length - 0 through 15. And, I bought a set of bamboo crochet hooks. I simply like working with bamboo and wooden needles the best.
The swallow casein needles are nice but tend to be a bit "sticky" with some types of yarns. They would be my second favorite needles to use. Unfortunately, I do not believe that they come in circular needles. Well, that may be a good thing or I would have to set after acquiring those particular implements of construction as well.
Back to the sweater which I was attempting to construct on these wretched needles which spawned this buying frenzy. (I spent very wisely, all-in-all... 4 complete sets of needles, one set of crochet hooks, 5 sets of over-sized needles for less than $80. Still less than $100 including shipping from Canada. Try and get that here in the U.S. A set of Clover 13" bamboo single point needles, US 0 through 15, alone will cost more than $70.) The idea of knitting any further on the sweater with those wretched needles was appalling to me. As plastic needles tend to be "sticky," my stitches were not at optimum consistently. I contemplated simply awaiting the arrival of the new wooden needles and going on with the project from my stopping point. In the end, I succumbed and "frogged." (rip-it, rip-it) That's why it's called frogging. Seriously! LOL As I often reiterate to my granddaughter, "You cannot knit if you are afraid to rip."
So, I have ripped my beautiful strands of mohair and ribbon back into their respective balls and await the arrival of the more suitable construction tools, and I am thankful that this pattern says this sweater can be constructed in approximately 5 hours.
In organizing the studio, I think I have some needles that I will be listing on eBay. I also have a couple of books that I found on clearance and purchased specifically for that purpose. Very nice books from a popular series but not my style. However, the price did make them quite attractive for resale.
Construction of the throw that I am crocheting for my son-in-law is moving along quite nicely. I was joking with him that I may actually have it finished before the cold weather disappears. Given that I really like how it is turning out, I bought a similar type of bulky chenille yarn from the same vendor in an off-white cotton/tencel blend. I bought 9 pounds of the stuff! That will be an over-sized comfy throw for the y-chromosome person of significance.
He was apologetic for being overwhelmed with school when I saw him this weekend. Obstetrics and pediatrics will generally do that to you. Why nursing programs insist on teaching those two areas of very specialized curriculum together is beyond me. The scopes of practice are so very unique to each of those fields that it boggles the mind. The rules for pediatrics are different than for adults, and obstetrics is its own area altogether. There are areas of cross-over in other areas of practice.... med/surg and orthopedics, rheumatology and orthopedics, gastroenterology and endocrinology.... And, there are rules that are practiced by multiple disciplines - cardiology and pulmonology, hematology and immunology... It is insanity to try and learn two unique areas of practice, such as OB and pediatrics, together. Yet, programs do it. They may as well just incorporate anesthesiology into the same term and give you all three strikes! LOL
I sometimes wonder if it fails to register with him that I have already "been there, done that, got the t-shirt." All of this knowledge is just innate to my being, and I didn't have to spend months poring over over-priced texts and be at the hospital before daylight and leave long after dark. I didn't write volumes and volumes of pointless case studies and care plans in order to "get the big picture" of how the nursing process fits into the framework of medical diagnostics. I didn't have to research every one of the fourteen medications that my patient was prescribed - drug classification, uses, correct dosages, side-effects, interactions, pertinent laboratory monitoring, patient teaching... Nope. I was just born Mother Superior of Nurses from Hell.
You know, I would be very, very content to leave the field of nursing in his hands and stay home all day to play with the brown babies. I would have no problem at all handing over the reins to the next generation of nurses. However, I don't see that happening immediately. I see us working for the traveling service for part of the year and vacationing the rest of the year. Three months in Southern California, six weeks in Italy. Three months in Seattle, six weeks in the U.K. Three months in Denver, six weeks in Australia. It would be a rough life, but I think we could manage. Two nursing placements for the price of one housing unit. Such a deal! Though, if there were babies along, I would only work part-time. Good money, no housing expense. Nice way to travel the country for a couple of years. Well suited to our vagabond souls.
It has become early in the morning once again. Time to get on with my day.
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