Southern's Belle

Snow Day!

2010-02-08T22:07:00.001-08:00

We rarely get enough snow in the Scenic City to allow for such festivities, but the other week we had a significant outpouring of the white stuff. When it snows, and actually sticks, it's a now or never moment. So there we were, Thumper donning a pair of rubber mechanic's gloves, and me in my clogs, or as he calls them, sandals. Above is a picture of our first snowman together, and yes, he's anatomically correct!

Merry Christmas!

2010-01-04T13:01:00.001-08:00

All I have to say is that men are full of surprises. Just when you think they don't have a clue or that they aren't paying attention, they blow you out of the water! Well, at least mine does! Below is a picture of what Santa. . .uh. . .Thumper gave me for Christmas!

By the way, this is NOT an engagement ring so I better not find my comment section full of congrats and wedding questions. It's a love knot! Seriously! It's called an Everlon Love Knot - a Hercules Knot to be exact! It resembles strong, everlasting love, forged in the strength of a knot. It's perfect, but I won't be able to wear it for another 2 weeks as it has been sent off to be resized to fit my infant-sized finger - boo!

Setting the Mood

2009-12-20T12:44:00.000-08:00

Every year I tell myself I am going to take that next step in Christmas decorating and buy a tree. Lord knows I have all the trimmings for one! I've even found myself wandering around the Christmas tree section at Wal-Mart and Lowe's picking and choosing which tree best suits my needs. Thumper always asks, "Why not just get a fake tree?" But the idea is just so artificial - no pun intended. If you're going to do Christmas, then you might as well go all the way. Besides, I love the smell of evergreen needles in the house. It's the best! Needless to say, I did not get a tree again this year. As much as I love the look and the feel of a tree, my wallet just doesn't agree that I should be paying $30.00 for something that I am going to put out for the trash men to haul away in about 3 weeks. So below are some pictures of what decorating I did do this year, and really what I do every year since I've been on my own. Enjoy!

Kitchen Table Centerpiece

My Jolly Snowmen

The "M" Word

2009-08-03T08:00:00.000-07:00

The other night I had a dream that Thumper told me he was going to marry me. It wasn't a proposal, but more like a vocalization of what was to come in the future.

"I'm going to put a ring on that finger someday," he said.

I woke up that next morning, feeling almost excited and extremely relieved despite the fact that it was only a dream. I looked down at my hand, the absence of an engagement ring slapping me back into reality. The excitement of course is understandable. The relief? That deserves some explanation.

It's been awhile since I've been to a wedding. But this summer broke my streak of absence and on one of the hottest days of early summer I found myself standing next to my best friend as she was preparing to get remarried to Mr. Right. I soaked in the white dress, the pearls, the flowers. It was everything a wedding should be and more. There is something to be said about the importance of those actually taking the wedding vows. This couple in particular is really meant to be together.

This is exactly how I feel about Thumper. Deep down in my gut, I feel like this is the person I am meant to be with forever. And despite the happiness we both feel when we're together, we never address the future. And although I don't imagine that he is the type of person who never wants to get married, I often wonder if maybe that is why the subject is never brought up. But then there is a part of me that gently reminds myself about the person in question. This man is still trying to sort through, school and a career. His mind is a bit too preoccupied with the here and now to be worried about something as distant as marriage.

It would be easy too, I suppose, to get that relief that I'm seeking. It's really quite simple. I could just ask! But here too we go back to my "I love you" phobia. For a few months I had found myself saying it, only to be followed by silence. I hate to assume anything so I really had no idea if he felt the same. I was dying to just ask him - do you or don't you? But then after seeking advice from Voo Doo Number Lady at work, I figured that I'd just give him his space and allow him to tell me his feelings when he was ready. In the end I was beyond glad that I didn't pressure him and when he finally told me how he felt, it was better than me asking.

Thus I think this is one of those subjects better left for a rainy day and a more open mind.

Darwinian Nursing

2009-07-25T22:06:00.000-07:00

Half of the stress of my job has absolutely nothing to do with the patients, which quite frankly is extremely pathetic. A bad night can easily be determined by simply whom you are working with.

Office drama, as it is often called, or unit drama, as I like to call it, can suck your energy dry just as quickly as a crashing patient. And the good 'ole fashioned concept of loyalty really ceases to exist the minute you walk through those double doors. It's sink or swim - all for one, and one for me. It's essentially survival of the fittest.

People will step on whomever they have to to get ahead, whether it be friend or foe. Nothing is sacred. So you really have no friends in this place. Therefore, there is little point in placing any effort into a work related relationship of any kind, because when it comes right down to it you are just another rung on the ladder of success that someone needs to climb over in order to get to the top.

And don't think for a minute that they won't do it because human nature is far more powerful than mere principles. Anything that serves to benefit the party in question, especially money, takes precedence over emotional ties shared between two individuals. I am speaking here from recent, personal experience.

So take my advice and channel your energy into something more fruitful. That way you have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. How's that for survival of the fittest?

Sinking Ships

2009-07-16T19:37:00.000-07:00

I must admit, I've been holding out a little bit on my readers. I have so much on my mind, and although I don't ever mention specific names in this blog, I sometimes hesitate to express everything that I'm feeling for fear that someone comes along and accuses me of slander.

Blogs, like journals and diaries, are like smoking guns - once thoughts and feelings are committed to paper, and read by others, they set forth to do their damage.

I'm generally not a mean person, and I don't particularly like to gossip. But there is the rare occasion where I have something to say and it's not all sweet and sugarcoated. Sometimes the truth hurts. I really do make an honest effort to see things objectively, and with age I've taken more kindly to constructive criticism.

Despite all these things, I still have managed from time to time to get myself into hot water over this very blog. It's in times like these a saying from my mother comes to mind - "Loose lips sink ships."

Speechless

2009-07-07T20:26:00.001-07:00

No words are necessary - this picture speaks for itself!

Happy Birthday Thumper!

2009-06-13T20:34:00.000-07:00

Another year gone by and it seems like only yesterday that we celebrated a birthday together for the first time. Happy Birthday to the man who has changed my life and brought joy to my heart - the love of my life!

Happy Anniversary!

2009-05-18T19:29:00.000-07:00

I really feel awful that I have only just now blogged about this because it really was a momentus occasion. April 20th was 1 year that Thumper and I have been together!

I have never felt time go by so quickly. It feels like just yesterday that I saw him for the first time and was smitten. And although I have stored up so many wonderful memories over this last year, those first few memories of how I felt before we were ever together are some of my favorites.

People say that life begins at 40. I always felt that was a little delayed. Yet it is only just now that I feel like my life has begun. I've been waiting 25 years to feel this level of joy, and I wouldn't be opposed to feeling like this for the rest of my life!

Hello Out There!

2009-04-27T11:54:00.000-07:00

I've been making an honest effort to blog more regularly, but I'm seriously rethinking this decision as it seems that no one is even bothering to read my new posts. Where have all my readers gone?

Lyric Analysis

2009-04-12T02:00:00.000-07:00

You Found Me

I found God on the corner of 1st and Amistad
Where the West was all but won
All alone, smoking his last cigarette
I said, "Where've you been?" He said, "Ask anything."

Where were you, when everything was falling apart.
All my days were spent by the telephone that never rang
And all I needed was a call that never came
To the corner of 1st and Amistad

Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late, you found me, you found me.

But in the end everyone ends up alone
Losing her, the only one who's ever known
Who I am, who I'm not and who I wanna to be
No way to know how long she will be next to me

Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late, you found me, you found me.

The early morning, the city breaks
And I've been calling for years and years and years
And you never left me no messages
You never sent me no letters
You got some kind of nerve taking all I want

Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor,
Where were you? Where were you?
Lost and insecure, you found me, you found me
Lying on the floor, surrounded, surrounded
Why'd you have to wait?
Where were you? Where were you?
Just a little late, you found me, you found me.

Why'd you have to wait, to find me, to find me?

- The Fray

When I first heard this song, the first few verses stung my ears and I thought to myself, "Well isn't that a pretty picture?" I can't imagine God standing on a dirty street corner lighting one up. Just merely the idea, in and of itself, seemed sacrilegious.

Not long after I'd convinced myself that I didn't really care too much for the song, I learned the story behind the lyrics. Apparently the song is based on some recent tragedies that had befallen the band's lead singer. As we often do, he questioned God, which triggered a dream about a confrontation between himself and God. In this case, God appeared to him as just some Joe bag o' donuts standing on a street corner, smoking a cigarette, and thus we have a # 1 hit.

I had heard on the radio that some people had their panties in a wad because they too, as I once had, believed that the song was sacrilgious, and then it dawned on me that the situation doesn't really seem out of character for God at all. He seems like the type of person who would just be standing on a street corner - some bum. And that's not taking away from His glory at all. It's our test.

Would we be able to recognize Him if He appeared to us in such ordinary circumstances. I suppose to some people it would seem extremely out of the ordinary because we always picture God shrouded in glory and loveliness. Yet we forget that He came to this world and took on human flesh, and He is not foreign to such things as filth.

The other thing that really stood out to me about this song is how this person goes about questioning God. You've heard it said, "Who are we to question God?" but don't we do it? Yes we really have no right to question the Ruler of the Universe, the Alpha and the Omega, but we do it anyway. It's our human nature.

Yet this person is not questioning God in a quiet and feeble manner. He's coming to God and saying, "How dare you!" Of course this too makes people uneasy, but you are either a liar or have the faith of gibraltar if you can say that have never stepped up to God in anger. And I think that is what I like about this song so much. It is so real! I have been mad at God before, I have blamed Him for the mishaps in my life, and I have certainly felt abandoned by Him. There have been countless times where I wondered if God even existed because I felt He was so far from me.

It's just too bad that it's not as simple as a phone call.

Diamonds Are A Baseball Players Best Friend!

2009-04-11T14:14:00.000-07:00

Women aren't the only ones who can appreciate a beautiful diamond ring when they see one. On April 8th, the Philadelphia Phillies, World Series Champs, were awarded their Championship rings, and let me tell you, they're quite beautiful.

103 diamonds set in 14 Karat white gold, makes these babies simply sparkle. And don't be fooled to think that these rings are anything but huge. The players can barely close their fingers into a fist when they're wearing them! But for all the hard work they went through last season, they deserve every last one of those 103 diamonds. Wear em' with pride boys!

Turn The Other Cheek

2009-04-07T20:46:00.001-07:00

When people preach that whole turn the other cheek song and dance, they forgot to mention that you're setting yourself up for a good swift kick in the ass! We're talking about a totally different type of cheek here folks!

It seems there is a fine line between "turning the other cheek" and being gullible. I myself, being guilty of the latter on multiple occasions, recently set myself up for one of those turn the other cheek situations except it was as if I painted a bullseye on my rear, and bent over giving the party in question the full advantage.

Mom always says, "You have a mouth - use it!", after which she reminds me of all the times during my youth when I had mouthed-off to her. Yet for some reason, when it really counts, such as defending my honour, I tend to shy away from the opportunity.

I call it an opportunity because that's exactly what it is. How many times have we been in a situation where we choked on our own silence, only to minutes later think of the perfect response? But the moment has passed, and so too the opportunity, and now your ironclad comment seems all too flaccid.

I've never really been one for confrontation and perhaps therein lies the root of all my problems. I'd prefer for things to go smoothly without any bumps in the road. Thus I'm a doormat. I let people walk all over me, taking and leaving the good and the bad as they please, and the only thing I have to show for it all is a sore rear.

When All The Chips Are Down

2009-03-26T21:14:00.000-07:00

The bets are made and all that remains is the big reveal, and it seems for a second that time stands still. A deep sigh breaks the silence at the table. Each player with his poker face in place waits for the dealer to turn the cards over. It's win or lose, and I can't help but wonder if even the most skilled, championship poker player feels an ounce of apprehension at the thought of losing it all.

Throughout the years I've realized that when it comes to relationships I'm an all or nothing type of person. If I'm going to commit to someone then they better be prepared to receive all of me - the good and the bad. This is also especially true when it comes to matters of the heart. If you're lucky enough for me to trust you with my heart, then you're going to get all of it. How would I feel if someone told me they only loved me 50%? It's all or nothing. And I suppose that's why being in love is so scary in the first place. For those of us who give 150% of ourselves, there is just that much to be lost if things go sour.

Over the last year I've been in my first real, committed relationship. Knowing myself and how I am, it is not surprising that I feel like I have completely given my heart to this person. There's not an inch of it that I've held back. But it's then that I realize exactly all that I would be losing if we were to go our separate ways, and quite frankly I feel more then just a little apprehension at even the thought. I suppose that's why some people refer to relationships as a gamble. It's something that you invest in, and the more you give of yourself, the more you have to lose.

Luckily that doesn't stop people from trying it. The feeling alone of being in love and being around that person is reason enough for me to be willing to come back for more, even after sustaining a broken heart.

Better Late Than Never. . . .

2009-02-18T21:03:00.000-08:00

This wouldn't be my story if there weren't something wrong with it. That's just the way things seem to go for me. Whether it be some little, insignificant detail, or the whole thing gets botched, I try never to be too surprised.

So of course it was no shock that my bank made us jump through hoops to get the loan for Veronica, only to come to find that for some silly technical reason we couldn't get the loan through my bank anyway. Luckily the people at Thumper's bank have half a clue and were very friendly and accomodating. This, of course, still did not allow us to purchase the bike before Valentine's Day thus leaving us with nothing to do on Valentine's Day itself. But that wasn't going to stop my hunny from doing something special for Valentine's Day, so we planned to take the bike out that coming Wednesday.

Yet again I was not too surprised when Wednesday rolled around and the weather was rather uncooperative. We went out to eat with the rest of the family that afternoon, and as we rode up over the hill towards Applebee's the sky looked like it was going to split right down the middle. As we settled into our chairs inside the restaurant, the sky had indeed split down the middle, opening the flood gates. But we remained hopeful.

About an hour later the rain had passed and so we agreed to take off for the mountains. It didn't get chilly until we actually made it to the top of the mountain. The view was amazing as you can clearly see for yourself.

I rode home hugged up closely to my hunny. It was much colder on the ride home but for some reason I didn't really notice. . . . .

Meet Veronica!

2009-02-14T20:49:00.000-08:00

Forget about diamonds and roses and all those sorts of things that are typically purchased for Valentine's Day. Thumper and I decided to kick it up a notch and found ourselves a new toy, and agreed to go into it half and half. Of course this is just something to hold us over until we are able to afford our Harley, but really I've grown rather fond of this bike. So much so that when Thumper asked, "So what are you going to name her?" I took one look at her and said, "Veronica." And so it was.

9 Months

2009-01-20T00:00:00.000-08:00

No, I'm not talking about how long it takes to incubate a baby. Today is 9 months that Thumper and I have been together! I'm not sure what else to say except that these last 9 months have been the happiest 9 months of my entire life. The best part is looking forward to every day in the future that we have together!

For My Hunny

2009-01-13T10:12:00.000-08:00

The other day as we were driving back from Chattanooga, Thumper and I noted how visible the stars seemed that night. As I looked out the window Orion stared back at me. As crazy as it sounds, I swear he follows me. Wherever I am, all I have to do is look up into the night sky, and there he is, hovering over me.

I told Thumper everything I know about Orion. He admitted that he had never noticed it, mostly because he didn't know what the constellation looked like. I described to him Orion's belt and sword. When we got home I pointed him out.

I'd once been told that when Jesus comes again he will come from the middle star in Orion's belt. Apparently there is something especially special about that star. Above is a picture Orion's Nebula which is located in that middle star on the warrior's belt. It's been called "The Gateway To Heaven." I'm not sure that I truly believe everything I've heard about the constellation, but it's definitely quite magnificent.

I once wrote a poem about this constellation. It's really not half bad either, and now, this one is dedicated to you babe. I'll never look at these stars the same way again.

Constellation Warrior

Plucking you out of all

Creation with His omnipotent hand and

Erasing your countenance,

He then set you to rule over all.

Thus in these wee morning hours,

I consider it an honor

To be greeted by the flash

Of your mighty sword.

Girding your loins with darkness,

A trio of the finest diamonds

Advertise your identity and

The pathway to eternity.

In awe, the constellations bow

At your every whim,

Reverently standing in configuration

Forming polka dot pictures

Across midnight skies.

This Is Me. . . .

2009-01-05T20:38:00.000-08:00

Have you ever seen that advertisement that says, "This is your brain on drugs?" and then they show a picture of a fried egg? Well I'm not sure what my brain would look like on drugs because I've never done drugs, and really I have no intention of ever trying them either. But there are days when I feel like I'm on some really amazing high that never wants to end. This is me madly in love - picture taken by Prince Charming himself!

For The Guys

2008-12-22T15:51:00.000-08:00

This is something that was passed around at work for kicks, and to be quite honest, it's really mostly for the guys. Enjoy!

10 Reasons To Love A Nurse!

No body part scares me
Defibrillation. . . .I can thrill you with 1 touch!
I'm used to working at night
Who else will ever encourage you to pass gas?
I've flipped bigger people than you in bed
No dinner conversation will ever gross me out
DRUGS. . . .I know them all
We have a code for every color - even brown!
I know the proper way to tie you to a bed
Hit the right button and I'll come quickly

Field Trip!

2008-12-15T15:10:00.001-08:00

On Friday Thumper was scheduled to go to the Corvette plant with one of his classes. He had signed me up to go with him, and actually I was really excited to go. For some reason he sometimes thinks that cars bore me. I tried to explain to him that really that's just a stereotype that society has put on women, because you know that women really only care about shoes and handbags!

He told me to be awake and ready by 8:00 AM so I set my alarm a little earlier than that, just to be safe. I assumed that meant that the bus was leaving at 8:30 AM. After playing fiddle-faddle-foo all morning, we headed to the school only to find that the bus had been gone for about a half hour already. On the way back to Thumper's house we passed the bus headed for the interstate. Normally I might have tried to chase them down, but I was quickly halted by a red light just before making a u-turn. So it was that we headed back to Thumper's house.

It was early and so Thumper jumped online trying to find something to do. In the meantime I laid down for a catnap till he called my name from the computer room. He asked if I was interested in going offroading in the truck, another thing he often thinks disinterests me because I'm a girl. I'd been waiting these last 8 months that we had been dating for him to take me offroading so I jumped at the chance to finally go. We played on Google Earth and Mapquest for awhile making sure our directions we correct and then headed to Beasley Knob located somewhere in northern Georgia.

Surprisingly we didn't have any problem finding the place, but were disappointed to find that the trails were closed due to the recent rainfall. Along the way Thumper showed me the river, and the dam, and explained to me how they use the water to make electricity. At one point along the river he stopped, stood on top of the Yota, and took the picture posted above. I was beautiful and cold!

So since Plan-A fell through the cracks, Plan-B went swiftly into effect. Thumper had remembered going to a little town with his dad that he said was set up like it was Switzerland. As we drove around the surroundings seemed more and more familiar to Thumper so he got on the horn and called his dad who said we weren't far from the little town Thumper had been telling me about. So we drove up the mountain and then down the mountain, the most twisty, curvy road I've ever been on, until we arrive in Helen, GA.

It was just as he had described. All the buildings looked like they were right out of a storybook, and everything was decorated for Christmas which made it just that more picturesque. We did some shopping, and walked around till the sun went down, then Thumper drove us home.

We had our own field trip which was a million times better than any trip to the Corvette plant. What could be better than spending the day under the mountains, and the blue winter sky, and driving along the river in a blue Toyota pick-up truck with the man you love?

Memphis or Bust!

2008-12-04T11:55:00.000-08:00

Have you ever been afraid of losing something? When I was little I had a ragdoll my Great Grandmother gave me for my first birthday. Her name was Raga Baby and she went everywhere with me. If we went to the grocery store she went with me. If we went to the gas station she went with me. If I went to a friend's house for a sleepover, she was tucked in my overnight bag under a pair of underwear. And when I went away to college, she came with me, and can still be found in my bedroon closet, perched on the shelf for safe keeping.

I remember one time I lost Raga Baby, or at least I thought I did. I must have been 7 or 8 years old, but I cried like I was 2. I remember my mom had sat me down and told me that I was too old to be dragging Raga Baby out in public and I needed to find a safe place to keep her, a place where I knew she would be. The safest place I could think of was under my pillow and so that's where she was. But I didn't remember this. All I could think of was being out at the store and she was with me, and now she wasn't. I imagined her lying on the dirty linoleum floor at the supermarket and here I was at home without her. Mom had everyone in the family tear the house apart looking for her. Hours later as I frantically stripped the blankets off my bed for the fifth time, I saw her lying there under my pillow, and was filled with relief.

Now that I'm older it seems so silly that I was so scared to lose something as simple as a ragdoll. As we mature our fears mature as well and suddenly we're scared of things that really matter or make a difference in this life.

Yesterday as I rode in the mail truck beside Thumper he started telling me about a job opportunity that had come his way. Since he graduated back in May he's been sending his resume to numerous companies hoping to find a job that has all the qualities he's looking for. He's talked about job possibilities before but today was different. His voiced sounded so hopeful. He had received a callback from a company who was wanting him to send them some of his design drawings. He went on to tell me that the job is only a 3 month contract, but it would be good experience and would look good on his resume. The other catch is that the job is in Memphis, TN.

When he said this my heart jumped up into my throat. The thought of him being away for 3 months kills me. And it's not that I don't want him to get the job. I find myself struggling between praying that he gets it, and wishing that he could just stay here with me. I want him to be happy. I suppose I'm just being selfish.

For the first time in almost 17 years I feel scared like I did when I couldn't find Raga Baby. I suppose that seems like a silly comparison but maybe it's fitting to me because I remember how I felt when I lost her and although I was only 7 or 8 years old that was one of the worst feelings I can remember.

I've heard men say there's always something better out there than what you have - someone who can treat you better, someone who looks better, someone who can make you happier. I know what it's like to be the person on the back burner, the person who knows there's someone else. I guess it all boils down to being satisfied with what you have or just being lucky enough to have found someone who fills all your holes. I don't think I could have found a better match for myself then Thumper. I've never been happier in my whole life. But what if he doesn't feel that way?

I cried last night. I thought about everything and played what-if until I had myself all upset. I've never been so afraid of losing something as I am of losing him. I'm afraid to be alone again.

Dear Santa. . . .

2008-11-30T22:29:00.000-08:00

Of course we've all heard the saying, "Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it." The Christmas season has just begun, and thus begins the season for wishing and making lists for Santa Claus of all the things we want.

Last year at work we planned for our annual Secret Santa drawing. To lessen the headache of trying to think of something to buy for the person whose name we were assigned, we posted a list of the names of all the employees on 1 North and each person was responsible for writing something they wanted beside their name.

I mulled over this list for weeks before standing before it and writing down my wish for Santa. I narrowed my selection down to the one thing I had always wanted, yet still didn't have. I knew it was a long shot, but at least everyone else would get a good laugh out of it.

Someone tall dark and handsome. . . . .

I was right about my wish being good for a laugh. I had the entire unit buzzing about who to set me up with. When the day of the actual gift exchange came I ended up going home with a new hair dryer - not exactly what I had in mind. Little did I know that 4 months later I would get exactly what I had always dreamed of - someone tall dark and very handsome.

So it's true, be careful what you wish for because you just might get it. You may not get it right away. It may take awhile. It may take a long while. But if you're lucky, you just might get it!

Women Are From Earth, Men Are From Who Knows Where. . . .

2008-11-23T22:45:00.000-08:00

Actually it's really Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus, but this is not a book, this is the real world with real people in it.

I suppose it really isn't quite accurate to say that all women are from Earth because I've certainly seen my fair share of women who were not operating on all four cylinders. But what I can say is that I sure am.

I'm a pretty down to Earth kind of girl (no pun intended). I know what I want, and depending on what that something is I'm usually willing to go out there and get it.

I mean what I say, and I say what I mean. I'm not about sugarcoating things and making them sound nice, although I firmly believe in tact. Some people have a naturally wonderful sense of tact while others leave something to be desired. Yet with a little practice, I really do believe, for the most part, that it is something that can, and should be done.

I'm honest, which goes right along with the aforementioned. I find little point in lying about anything because it's sure to just come right back around and further complicate the situation.

But men, that's a whole nother ballgame.

I don't understand them and sometimes I wonder if I ever will. Sometimes I play the fly on the wall game. People, men in this instance, make their way around me and then start running their mouth, not knowing all the while, that I'm listening. I may look busy, which actually is true, I am busy - listening to them! I hear the things they talk about and wonder how it is that some of us coexist.

Men, you can't live with them, and you can't kill them. . . . .

Harley Girl!

2008-11-16T14:08:00.000-08:00

I never really thought of myself as a Harley-type girl. And it's not that there is anything wrong with Harley Davidson motorcycles. I've always loved motorcycles. I suppose I let myself fall victim to the stereotype that comes with those types of bikes. When I think of Harleys I usually think of rough, tatooed, old men with long unkept beards, and long straggly hair.

About a week ago Thumper and I were bored and so we just hopped in Bianca and started aimlessly driving around. We ended up in Chattanooga at the Harley Davidson dealership. I had never been there before and so I was a little excited to see what it was like. Thumper warned me though that we could not spend too much time in the showroom because of course, he would see something he wanted. Ironically, we were there until closing time. They practically had to kick us out.

While he was walking around talking to one of the salesmen, I found her. There she was, one of the most beautiful motorcycles I have ever seen. Modeled after motorcycles that were driven in the post-war era, the Crossbones looks like a bike you would see in an old 1940's movie. As Thumper came back around to where I was standing I pointed her out to him. For the rest of the evening we wandered around and would select a bike and ask me how I liked it compared to the Crossbones. Everytime my response was the same, "I like mine better." Apparently I said it so much that after sitting on it he was just as convinced as I was.

Thus it is that my perspective has changed. Harleys are a household name, the manufacturer of a very classy, well-made, very expensive, motorcycle. Now all we need to do is find some money so we can buy that beauty!

The Countdown Begins!

2008-11-13T21:15:00.000-08:00

Only 41 days and counting till Christmas! As hard a decision as it was, I have decided to spend the holiday here in Tennessee despite the fact that I am not scheduled to work.

Normally, if I was not scheduled to work the holiday I would be hopping in Bianca and headed North. But this year with gas prices still in limbo, and my hunny here in Tennessee, it wasn't too hard to decide to just stay put!

And the best news of all is that I'm done with my Christmas shopping except for a few here's and there's for Thumper's stocking. I can hardly contain myself and the surprises I have up my sleeve for this year!

Phillies World Series Champs!

2008-11-03T15:20:00.001-08:00

My sentiments exactly!

I Smell Victory!

2008-10-27T09:16:00.000-07:00

With that big nose I know the Phanatic smells it too! We're just one

game away boys! Victory is coming to Philadelphia!

The parade is coming through town!

What's In A Name?

2008-10-22T22:09:00.000-07:00

Names are important. Your name becomes a part of who you are. This is how people know you. A good name vs. a bad name can mean the difference between a lifetime of normalacy or a lifetime of torment. Yet it never ceases to amaze me how mothers and fathers will agree to disagree and name their daughter something like Shithead - pronounced "shi-theed".

I myself narrowly escaped receiving an ungodly name at birth. Supposedly my father wanted to name me Thaddeus, in the event that I was a boy. What hallucinogenic drug he was on at the time, I do not know, but luckily I was born with a vagina and the rest is history. Granted, I still was not thrilled with the name that I did get, but it surely was a step up from Thaddeus.

The other day I ventured into Chattanooga to visit RockCreek Outfitters at Hamilton Place. One of my coworkers had told me about this really cool water bottle she had purchased there and since I had thrown out my Nalgene I felt that now was as good a time as any to look into getting something new.

RockCreek Outfitters is an outdoor sporting goods and apparel store here in the south. For the most part I really enjoy browsing through their merchandise. The reason I say browse is because although they have some really useful and wellmade products, they are extremely overpriced. When I first walked into the store I spotted a green fleece that zips up the front. It was nothing special, just a fleece, an $85 fleece! But I digress.

I walked around for awhile and when I found the water bottles, I picked the one I wanted and hopped in line to pay. In front of me was a couple with a little boy who I'd say was somewhere around the terrible two's. Both his parents were dressed like they were ready to hit the trails with their little one in tow, and it seemed he too would have preferred this because he was twisting and contorting himself in his mother's arms, trying to escape. Of course it wasn't enough that he was squirming and aggrevating his parents. He had to aggrevate everyone else in the store. Thus it was that he was screaming and crying at the top of his lungs, all the time with me behind him, a front row seat, lucky me.

As his cries reached unspeakable ear deafening decibels his mother intervened and proceeded to scold him. "Canyon!" she exclaimed. I nearly fell backwards. She might have just named him Granola, or Kayak, or Canoe for Pete's sake! This poor child has to live the rest of his life being named after a huge hole in the ground! Normally I might reason that this name was different, unique. But then I ask myself, "Would I want to be named Canyon?" No. It's one thing to be in touch with Mother Nature, but you yourself are not Mother Nature and your child should not be named as if he were the son of Mother Nature. I rest my case!

Nickname Addendum

2008-10-21T22:53:00.000-07:00

P.P. or Little P.P. - Thumper's favorite nickname for me
Peroosky - Another one of Thumper's favorites
Philly - From the guy who works in the pharmacy at the hospital
Pat-Town - Jamie's first nickname for me
Shawty - Called this here recently by one of the janitors at the hospital
Patita - Nellie's new favorite for me
Roomie- Something Mag still calls me even though we're not roommates

Happy Anniversary!

2008-10-20T21:34:00.000-07:00

I love to celebrate special occasions. In fact it doesn't even have to be a well known, nationally recognized holiday for me to want to celebrate. Yet I've found that I don't have to spend money, or decorate, or even eat cake (which is one of my most favorite things to do - especially if I make the cake myself) in order to feel celebratory.

For the most part I've found that I can just keep reminding myself why I ought to feel happy and, I do. Too bad this doesn't work on any random day when I'm feeling craptacular. I suppose I can't trick even myself because it seems that I know when there's something legitimate to celebrate and just some placebo celebration to put some pep in my step.

Either way, today holds a real reason to celebrate something really quite wonderful. Today has been 6 months that Thumper and I have been together! Yeah! To me 6 months is a big deal, not as big a deal as 1 year, but a big deal nonetheless.

We didn't do anything to celebrate. I'm not even really sure that he realizes it's been 6 months, but all day I felt like I was walking on air, which really is no different from how I feel on a daily basis since we first started dating.

I feel happy! Which actually, that word, "happy", doesn't do justice to what I'm really feeling. I feel light and airy. I feel butterflies in my stomach. I feel like a girl in love.

More Of Love

2008-10-15T20:53:00.000-07:00

Here is another great love song done by Shinedown. I'm not sure which one I like more.

If You Only Knew

If you only knew
I'm hanging by a thread
The web I spin for you.
If you only knew
I'd sacrifice my beating
Heart before I lose you.
I still hold onto the letters
You returned
I swear I've lived and learned.

[Chorus]

It's 4:03 and I can't sleep
Without you next to me I
Toss and turn like the sea.
If I drown tonight, bring me
Back to life
Breathe your breath in me.
The only thing that I still believe
In is you, if you only knew.

If you only knew
How many times I counted
All the words that went wrong.
If you only knew
How I refuse to let you go,
Even when you're gone.
I don't regret any days I
Spent, nights we shared,
Or letters that I sent.

[Chorus]

It's 4:03 and I can't sleep
Without you next to me I
Toss and turn like the sea.
If I drown tonight, bring me
Back to life
Breathe your breath in me.
The only thing that I still believe
In is you, if you only knew.
If you only knew.

I still hold onto the letters
You returned.
You help me live and learn.

[Chorus]

It's 4:03 and I can't sleep
Without you next to me I
Toss and turn like the sea.
If I drown tonight, bring me
Back to life
Breathe your breath in me.
The only thing that I still believe
In is you, believe in is you.
I still believe in you.
Oh, if you only knew.

Poetic Props

2008-10-15T20:36:00.000-07:00

I never would have thought that a band as hard as Shinedown could be so poetic, but here is one of those instances where I have to admit that I was wrong. These are some of the most beautiful lyrics that I have heard in a long time, from a band so fresh. Check them out for yourself and while you're at it visit YouTube for the full video experience.

The Crow and the Butterfly

I painted your room at
Midnight, so I'd know
Yesterday was over.
I put all your books
On the top shelf,
Even the one with
The four leaf clover,
Man, I'm getting older.

I took all your pictures
Off the wall and wrapped
Them in a newspaper blanket.
I haven't slept in what seems
Like a century, and now I can
Barely breathe.

[Chorus]

Just like a crow chasing the butterfly,
Dandelions lost in the summer sky.
When you and I were getting
High as outer space, I never
Thought you'd slip away,
I guess I was just a little too late.

You're words still serenade me,
Your lullabies won't let me sleep.
I've never heard such a haunting melody.
Oh, it's killing me,
You know I can barely breathe.

[Chorus]

Just like a crow chasing the butterfly,
Dandelions lost in the summer sky.
When you and I were getting
High as outer space, I never
Thought you'd slip away,
I guess I was just a little too late.

Just like a crow chasing the butterfly,
Dandelions lost in the summer sky.
When you and I were getting
High as outer space, I never
Thought you'd slip away.

Like a crow chasing the butterfly,
Dandelions lost in the summer sky.
When you and I were getting
High as outer space, I never
Thought you'd slip away,
I guess I was just a little too late,
Just a little too late.

Blog Disclaimer

2008-10-10T10:13:00.000-07:00

I'm one of the most honest people I know. Besides the fact that I'm a really bad liar, I just believe that honesty is the best policy. I can save myself a whole lot of aggrevation by just telling the truth the first time around as opposed to conjuring up some tall-tale that I have to keep up with anyways.

This blog contains 100% honesty. This blog serves as an outlet for all the things that I feel, but sometimes struggle to express. If honesty is not something that you value, then don't read this blog. If you are one of those people who can't handle honesty, often lightly seasoned with a dash of humor, then don't read this blog.

I don't intend to stop writing my thoughts and feelings because there is someone out there who feels offended because of what I think and feel. This is who I am. This is me, the unrated version, stripped naked, and then scribbled on paper for the free world to see. I'm brave enough to be honest. If you can't appreciate honesty, then don't read this blog.

Butterflies

2008-10-04T12:24:00.000-07:00

I'm off orientation at work, flying solo, and so for the past week or so I tried to get myself reorganized. I even went onto Microsoft Word and created a new flowsheet so I can keep track of everything.

The other day I put a picture of Thumper and I on my newly reorganized work folder, and of course this generated a slew of questions about my hunny, and then I got to bragging and one person asked me do I still get "that feeling" when I'm around him? You mean the butterflies? Of course! I might be worried if I didn't!

Hell Yeah!

2008-10-01T23:16:00.000-07:00

As I sit here at work in these wee morning hours, fighting the urge to fall asleep, I glanced across the desk at that little flip calendar that I so often blog about and had to chuckle to myself. The tidbit for today reads:

Money talks, but all it can ever say is goodbye.

Hell yeah! What more can I say? This one speaks for itself!

Critical Care Coffee

2008-09-28T09:38:00.000-07:00

I'm about to come off of orientation in MICU. So it was really important this last week for me to take advantage of every learning opportunity. I was with a different preceptor every night who all insisted that I carry a full patient load for my remaining nights on orientation. Luckily I was blessed enough that the patients I cared for the first night remained in the ICU for the next two nights as well.

In my humble opinion this just makes for a better evening. You learn the patient's history right off the bat, familiarize yourself with their doctors and their current medical condition which makes it easier to care for these same patients on consecutive nights. On my third night I came in and was pleasantly surprised to find that neither of my patients had been transferred to the floor. The night started smoothly and continued as such.

Around 4 AM the x-ray technicians made their rounds getting the usual morning chest x-rays. Of course I wasn't surprised when they stopped in my second room to get x-rays on my one patient who had just recently, miraculously survived a rather serious motorcycle accident. When the technician exited the room she walked over to me and informed me that the patient was asking for some coffee. I then proceeded to ask him how he takes his coffee because it always seems that I bring too much creamer, or too little sugar, or decaf instead of regular and it would just same me some extra steps to get it right the first time.

I walked in the room, the patient sitting up in bed watching TV, and asked him, " How do you take your coffee?" to which he replied with the silliest of smirks on his face, "Hot, blonde, and sweet." Luckily for me the lights were off where he couldn't see my face turn about 10 shades of crimson. Despite my embarrassment I repeated the question to which he responded more appropriately this time.

We had a good laugh about that in MICU that morning. It's just too bad that I'm not a coffee person myself!

Ode To Dairy Queen!

2008-09-22T18:31:00.000-07:00

I've heard of drowning your sorrows in alcohol, but I promise, Dairy Queen is much more effective, and without the nasty hangover the next morning. Although I wouldn't recommend it for diabetics.

I'm having another one of those "missing piece" moments, just sitting here on the couch, all alone, missing my hunny. So I decided to do the only thing my brain could successfully accomplish at this late hour, and under these dire circumstances - make a quick run to the Dairy Queen for my favorite M&M Blizzard!

So in the morning I might be 5 pounds heavier, but for right now I'm not thinking about too much else besides feeding myself this ice cream. I scream, you scream!

Nursing The Nurse

2008-09-17T12:35:00.001-07:00

I'm sick. I'm really sick. It doesn't happen often but when it does it seems to come out of nowhere and with great fury. One day I feel well, and the next day I'm flat on my back.

Last night I burned with fever. Physiologically I know that it's beneficial to have a fever. It's the body's way of telling you that the immune system is working in your favor. But quite frankly I'd rather just skip it. In my humble opinion, having a fever is the worst thing about being sick. I went to bed at about 8 PM and did not fall asleep until about 5 o' clock the next morning.

The one time that I was able to get out of bed for a drink of water, the bed felt like a restaurant grittle, burning from the afterthought of my body's struggle to get better.

As I laid in bed, hour after hour, tossing and turning, I couldn't help but laugh at the irony of my situation. On a daily basis I take care of sick people. I do it so much that sometimes I actually get sick of it. Then when the tables are turned and it's me who's sick I pick right up where I left off, the nurse taking care of the nurse. And I have to admit, taking care of yourself when you're completely helpless is one of the hardest jobs in the world.

The Missing Piece

2008-09-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

Shel Silverstein wrote a book called The Missing Piece. I own this book. It's somewhere in the spare room in one of the many boxes of books that I have yet to unpack since moving to Cleveland in December. As with most of his stories, it's really quite simple, an easy read, yet those of us who have matured over the years, and still remain loyal fans are able to dig deeper into the stories, unveiling their hidden meanings.

The Missing Piece tells the story of a cheesewheel-type creature who is missing a wedge out of his side. Throughout the book he rolls here and there looking for this missing piece.

This evening as I sit on the couch alone I'm overwhelmed with the sensation that something is missing, but this type of "missing" isn't like that feeling you get when you're packing your suitcase for a long trip and somehow have convinced yourself that you forgot something important like your deodorant or toothbrush. It's far more important than a toothbrush.

Then I realize what it is. I'm alone. His smell lingers on my skin, but he's not here. And that piercing gaze, from the bluest eyes, is missing from this room. The person everybody thought was my polar opposite, the person everybody thought couldn't make me happy, turned out to be my missing piece.

He fills that hole in my heart. Yet when I leave his presence a part of me stays with him till I see him again, and then all is right with the world, my world.

Brag Book

2008-09-08T13:55:00.000-07:00

When I got this picture I couldn't help myself but

to post it here and brag a little on my hunny.

So handsome!

Looks Like Trouble

2008-08-28T11:06:00.001-07:00

"I love you mother," said little Nell,

"I love you more than tongue can tell."

Then she teased, and pouted, and fussed all day,

Till mother was glad when she went to play.

Refrigerator Nazi

2008-08-28T09:41:00.000-07:00

There's someone at work who has been assigned the duty of keeping the employee refrigerator in the breakroom clean. This person's definition of cleaning is simply throwing everything away. In my humble opinion, anyone can throw things away. It's easy. You pick things up and put them in a trash can.

Unfortunately I made the big mistake of leaving my lunch bag in the refrigerator over the course of a few days. The biggest part of that mistake was leaving my silverware in that bag as well. I returned to the work the other day only to find that the refrigerator nazi had gone on a cleaning spree and threw away my lunch bag, silverware and all!

It doesn't really bother me that they threw the food away because really if I remember correctly all that was left in that bag was some stale cookies and maybe some chocolate pudding. But it does bother me that they didn't care to make sure that they weren't disposing of someone's flatware, my favorite flatware. That was one of the first things that I bought when I set out on my own. I wasn't about to eat with my hands! It was plain in design, but that's because I wanted something plain that would go with any decor that I had in the kitchen.

I have half the nerve to send a Moxmail to my fellow employees thanking whomever it was that threw my belongings away. But a lot of good that does me now.

The Roof, The Roof. . . .

2008-08-26T08:54:00.001-07:00

Is not on fire, but does have a crack in it, which is letting all that rain into my house. Urg! Oh well. I'm just glad this crack decided to locate itself above the coat closet and not my bed!

Bring On The Rain

2008-08-26T06:00:00.000-07:00

It's been so dry here in TN this summer than I'm surprised that everything doesn't just up and blow away! There are some curiously green knolls when you drive along the interstate, but otherwise everything is some varying shade of brown. In fact, the other day I was riding along with Thumper on the mail route, and we drove past the most pathetic corn field I've ever seen. Now mind, I wasn't too heartbroken, this coming from the girl who ever since she came out of the womb has hated corn, and mostly anything related to corn, except popcorn of course. The stalks were all shriveled and brown.

Geographically we're close enough to the coast to catch the tail end of a hurricane, but not too close where we have to take cover and board everything up. Honestly I have not been following this latest one very closely, but if I were a betting woman I would say that we are now receiving the tail end of whichever hurricane is currently out there spinning off the coast.

It started raining yesterday afternoon. I was riding with Thumper and looked up to the most beautiful cumulonibus I've ever seen. Big pillowing clouds ran all across the sky. But we need the rain, so I try not to complain even though once it gets started down here it never seems to stop, hence the winter of my Freshman year at SAU, when it rained sideways and every other way you can imagine.

Of course it started raining while Thumper was delivering the mail. Poor thing, by the time we got back to Chattanooga from Athens, he was drenched. The forecast had only called for scattered showers throughout the day, but they're never really very accurate.

It's still raining, hard. We are now under a flood watch, and so is my upstairs coat closet which has sprung a leak in the roof!

Reality Bites

2008-08-24T08:37:00.000-07:00

Despite my newfound extreme happiness I've never really been one to live in a fantasy world. The journey through this life is not like skipping through a field of daisies. Even the best moments require one to also be in touch with reality. Yet when I refer to being "in touch" with reality, I don't mean an occasional gentle stroke. You really have to ensure that you are living, thinking, and breathing what is real. That's not to say that the imagination and everything tied to a fantasy is unhealthy. It's just that limiting those experiences lessens the sting of reality when everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

Like I said before, I've never been one to live in a fantasy world. But here lately things in my life seemed almost perfect, if such a thing even exists. I finally found a truly wonderful man, someone I can trust and give my heart to. I have a great job, and I'm learning something new everyday, and evolving as a nurse. I have great, supportive friends. The parentals and I are getting along well too. And best of all I feel healthy, alive, bubbly, and just plain happy. But that's until the phone rings, or there's a knock at the door, or you open a piece of mail, and in that instance something is bound and determined to distort your happiness. Reality.

For me it was as simple as a phone call. Something so innocent can be one of the best ways to not only ruin your day, but your whole life. As is my general practice, no names will be mentioned as I elaborate on this story because quite frankly the whole thing has caused me enough aggrevation save an accusation that I was smearing other people's business all over the internet. But I digress.

So I'm on the phone with a good friend, which actually is such a cliche, and really in this situation an understatement. I'm talking to someone that I could tell anything. I could even tell this person about embarrassing personal bodily functions and it wouldn't bother me one bit. This person is the epitome of the words "best friend." This person has always been supportive of me, and actually helped me to become the more confident, laidback individual that I am today. I owe much to this person. This is one of those people that you would take a bullet for or stand in front of an oncoming train. I love this person. I always will.

We haven't talked in a long time. In fact for someone who considers this person to be their best friend it is almost pathetic to recall when their last real conversation took place. Nevertheless here we are trying to catch up when the strangest question comes into play. "Can I ask you something?" This, coming from the person who knows nearly everything about me. This question is almost like an insult in and of itself. "Of course," I reply after I scold him for even asking in the first place. He then relates to me the story of how his significant other read an innocent email that I had sent him which turned into an extensive line of questioning implying that there had at one point been something between us that he had never told her about. Reality.

The sting sets in and so does the silence. He goes on to explain that he sat down with her and explained that nothing more than a plutonic relationship has ever existed between the two of us. Which is all very true. The question though that is burning in your mind is, "What in the world did you say in that email that would even remotely cause her to think that there had ever been anything between the two of you?" Good question. And since I truly am the innocent party I'll tell you honestly.

We'd been talking about his up and coming marriage and I merely commented how it is still weird for me to think about him getting married especially when I consider that there was a time when I dreamed about being with him myself. But I love him in my own way as one of the best friends of my entire life and so I can't do anything but be happy for him. Period. Yes, I did at one time have feelings for him that reached beyond our friendship, and being the person to whom I tell everything, I told him how I felt. But that is not without saying that I also reassured him that I was not telling him my feelings because I wanted him to act on them or because I intended to act on them myself, but because it weighed so heavily on my mind and I needed to be free from those feelings. Truth.

In many ways truth is so much stronger than reality because really, truth is the essence of reality. That which is real can only in turn also be true.

He then attempted to reassure me that everything was fine between them. No harm, no foul. Later that day he asked me what might be done to make her feel completely as ease with the entire situation. From a female standpoint, I said that maybe sitting down with the other party in question and just talking about it all like adults would really smooth things out for me, if I were on the receiving end. Now would be one of those times when it would really behoove me to just keep my mouth shut because apparently that is a wonderful idea, an idea that my stupidity set in motion. Here's your shovel, start digging. It is thus that I find myself waiting for his call so I can trump over there and explain myself to her like some criminal at his trial hearing.

Needless to say this beyond ruined my day. I spent the rest of the day fighting off tears. I've also rehearsed in my head what I'm going to say during my own Gestapo interrogation. I've also come to the realization that this is likely to ruin our friendship. In fact, I almost guarantee it. I'll never be able to be 100% honest with this person ever again. I'll always have to wonder if I tell him something personal will it come back around to me via his wife? How can I ever be social with the two of them when now I feel like she's dissecting my every move. If he makes me laugh is that wrong? If he hugs me goodbye have I committed the unpardonable sin? Am I really considered untrustworthy now because I was open and honest with someone about everything?

In Your Dreams Sister!

2008-08-18T00:36:00.000-07:00

Apparently, according to my elder sister, I look like

this Hollywood beauty, Alicia Witt. Ha! I'm not so sure that I agree, although the idea of it is quite flattering. What do you think?

Gatlinburg Or Bust!

2008-08-11T14:54:00.000-07:00

This weekend we took a mini hiatus to Gatlinburg with some of Thumper's family and friends, and had an absolute blast. Even though we were only out of town for 2 days the change of pace and being away from work and everything familiar was wonderful. Here we are on the Sky Lift overlooking Gatlinburg. The view was amazing, and I'm not just talking about the mountains!

4 Letter Profanities

2008-08-02T19:07:00.000-07:00

He pulled away from her angrily and sat with his head in his hands as if suddenly struck with unbearable amounts of pain, when really she was the one who was hurting. He scolded her for her confession. He was lucky, but too blinded by his own ego to realize this truth.

The world and all its wonders lay at his feet. He could have anything he wanted. Or so it seemed. In this moment of rejection she caught a glimpse of his true colors. Yet she too was blind, and could not comprehend the significance of this temper tantrum. One might have thought that she had insulted him to the utmost, unforgiveably. What had she whispered in his ear that sent him into such a rage?

I love you.

She never expected a reciprocated response, yet she never expected this response either. Was she wrong? And why was it that she automatically blamed herself for his actions? He was acting out, so surely it must be because she was acting out of character. True or not, this is how he made her feel.

She interrupted his tirade to explain herself. She clarified again that she was not looking for him to reciprocate her emotions, she was just simply voicing her feelings, feelings that she had been repressing for many months now. But her words fell on deaf ears. As always, he only heard what he wanted to hear. He continued to lament his current situation and scolded her again. "Of all the words you could have said, why did you have to use those three little words." His chastisement seared into her memory forever.

When she thought she could bear no more of his tongue lashing, she pulled herself together so as not to show her discouragement, and left quietly. Never again would she speak her heart. This she vowed.

It wasn't until many years later that she found her heart tormenting her tongue to say those words again. But this time was different. Or was it? Was she willing to take that chance? Was she ready for whatever response she might get? Was she ready to be so vulnerable? Was she ready for I love you?

Adjustments

2008-07-30T17:25:00.000-07:00

It's been about 2 1/2 weeks since I first transfered to MICU, and what had once been excitement is now merely a vague memory. I've often voiced a strong distaste for change, thus I surprised even myself when the reality of my request for transfer set in. Now I just feel like I'm living a nightmare. I had myself convinced that this would be an easy adjustment. Yet I am not too proud to admit that you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

Some things will never change, and it seems that my aversion to change is one of those things. Of course I'll be the first to admit that there are things about working on the floor that I will never miss. I'll never miss dealing with difficult family members for 12 hours straight. I'll never miss doctors treating me like an ignoramous. I'll never miss all the running and rushing and hurrying to get everything done. I'll never miss not having all the time I need to do those little things that matter most to my patients.

Everyday though is a struggle for me. Slowly I'm running into former co-workers who all ask me the same question, "How do you like MICU?" Normally I would have plenty to say in response. But for the first time in a long time I'm speechless. I don't even feel like a generic "I don't know." would suffice. I don't know how I feel about it. I'm not indifferent. I just haven't figured it all out yet.

Any Minute Now

2008-06-26T18:57:00.000-07:00

Have you ever waited so long for something that when it finally came your excitment had turned to indifference and you really could care less if it had come at all? That is how I feel these last few days.

I'm awful about pumping myself up for things and holding onto unattainable expectations, only to be sorely disappointed in the end. You would think that I would know better by now, but it seems that sometimes you have to fall on your face about 20+ times before it finally sinks into that lead-thick skull. At this point if I continue to hold my breath it'll be Christmas, and I'll have long since expired!

So you know what? To hell with it! And no I didn't stutter!

Forever And A Day

2008-06-20T15:13:00.000-07:00

Today has been two months that Thumper and I have been together. I can hardly believe it. It's strange though, you hear people say, "Time flies when you're having fun" but these last two months have felt like the longest months of my life. Now that's not to say that these last two months have not been fun, because that would be a lie. I have never felt so happy. And this happiness is not sporatic, only happening a few days out of the month. I feel this way on a daily basis now. Of course though I could not allow myself to enjoy this feeling. I had to go and ruin it. I've had a few nightmares now that we've broken up without any real rhyme or reason, one of those "just-because" happenings. But I don't anticipate this to become a reality.

The last time I felt this alive seems like so long ago. To admit that makes me feel a little sad though. I feel ashamed to say that I wasted so much time being unhappy over someone, and then held onto that unhappiness until just now. I don't always recall feeling unhappy, but when I compare how I feel now to days past, there is no other way to categorize how I felt except to say I was unhappy.

Time is so precious. It is one of the most precious things we have. In the blink of an eye time is lost forever, and within that fraction of a second you can change your life either for good or for bad. Here today, and gone tomorrow.

So who cares if these summer days are long and lazy? That just gives me more time to spend with my hunny!

Happy Birthday Thumper!

2008-06-17T16:10:00.000-07:00

This blog is a little late. Thumper's birthday was actually on the 13th, but he has such a big family that by the time they were all done taking turns celebrating with him, none of the picture were actually of him on his actual birthday. This was Sabbath afternoon at Muddah's house for the cookout. Here he is, handsome as ever, despite the head shot, blowing out his candles. He's 23 not 3!

For The Record

2008-06-14T12:19:00.000-07:00

I am a woman, not a retard, so please don't treat me like one! Thank you!

I Am. . . .

2008-06-09T01:56:00.000-07:00

I am your waitress, nutritionist, and therapist.

I am your dermatologist, pharmacist, computer analyst, and marital counselor.

I am your mechanic, stylist, and sex therapist.

I am you financial adviser, insurance broker, and personal assist.

At times you'd think my name badge reads G.O.D.

It's strange, I don't recall going to school for all this.

"Good evening, my name is Patti."

"I am your nurse for tonight."

The Truth Is Out There!

2008-06-05T18:52:00.000-07:00

It's about time! 10 years after the first movie was released David Duchovny and Jillian Anderson have finally come together again for the second X-Files movie which will hit theathers sometime toward the end of July!

I was standing at a patient's bedside the other night, pushing some Dilaudid, when I glanced up at the TV where the patient had been watching one of those entertainment news shows. Apparently I came in the room just at the right time to hear the news. For a few years now I had heard rumors that the movie was in the making but those rumors were always overshadowed with another rumor that David Duchovny wasn't interested in doing another movie, although supposedly he had originally signed a contract to do 2 movies while he was filming the first movie.

Anyway, of course this movie has all the typical X-Files elements - aliens, government conspiracy, and the continuing secret romance between Mulder and Scully! Yeah!

Now I'm sure the next thing you're thinking is, "Patti, an X-Files fan?!" Yup! Back in the day I had David Duchovny as Special Agent Fox Mulder plastered all over my bedroom walls, and I'd wait with bated breath all evening till it was time for Dad and I to settle down and watch the show. And yeah sometimes it was scary - but I ain't no baby!

So needlesstosay I'm siked that they are finally getting their acts together to entertain us once again. I smell a date night!

My Jam!

2008-05-25T02:09:00.000-07:00

I've never really been a huge Gavin Degraw fan. It's not that I have anything against him. I can even boast that I am proud owner of his first album, which I quite enjoyed. But man let me tell you, the first single for his new album, that's my jam! I love this song. In fact whenever I'm cruising in Bianca and I hear it I can't help but exclaim, "Oh there's my song!" So it would only be natural for me to share it with you. So turn it up, and get ready to tap your toes and sing along!

I'm In Love With A Girl

So many people gonna say that they want you,
To try to get you thinking they really care,
But there's nothing like the warmth of the one who has put in the time and you know he's gonna be there,
Back your border when she knows someone crossed it,
Don't let nobody put you down, who your with
Take the pain of protecting your name, from the crutch to the cane to the highwire.

I'm in love with a girl who knows me better,
Fell for the women just when I met her,
Took my sweet time when I was bitter,
Someone understands,
And she knows how to treat a fella right,
Give me that feeling every night,
Wants to make love when I wanna fight,
Now someone understand me,
I'm in love with a girl (I'm in love with) (x2)

Out the many broken backdoors and windows,
Through the valley of the love of the lost,
Is a hole that is cut through the souls falling down from the thrones without leaving any windows,
But you drown in a piece for the moment,
The moment was over in time,
Then its gone the hit and run the tactless one has a short life.

I'm in love with a girl who knows me better,
Fell for the women just when I met her,
Took my sweet time when I was bitter,
Someone understands,
And she knows how to treat a fella right,
Give me that feeling every night,
Wants to make love when I wanna fight,
Now someone understand me,
I'm in love with a girl (I'm in love with) (x2)

Gonna tell you what you do to think you practice what you preach,
Now I know there's nothing we cant reach, 'cause the heart can't erase once it finds a place to be warm and welcome,
To be held in shelter.

I'm in love with a girl who knows me better,
Fell for the women just when I met her,
Took my sweet time when I was bitter,
Someone understands,
And she knows how to treat a fella right,
Give me that feeling every night,
Wants to make love when I wanna fight,
Now someone understands me,
I'm in love with a girl (I'm in love with) (x3)
Who knows me better
Wants to make love when I wanna fight
Now someone understand me.

- Gavin Degraw

You Asked For It!

2008-05-24T16:22:00.000-07:00

Well here it is, the first official picture of Thumper and I together. I've been harrassed nonstop for the last month about getting this thing out, but just like me he hates to have his picture taken, which really I have no idea why because I have yet to see a bad picture of this man. He's quite photogenic, which should be obvious when you take into consideration which one of us is actually looking at the camera! Here we were at the church for Boogie's 8th grade graduation ceremony. I aim to please so I hope that it was worth the wait!

Chattanooga or Bust!

2008-05-19T21:04:00.000-07:00

So Santa Claus and I have been in The Windy City for about a week now, and let me tell you, this has been the longest week of my life, not because I'm not having fun and not because I didn't want to be here, because I did, or at least I thought I did.

Five days ago, just as I was preparing to leave for this excursion, I had a panic attack. I'd planned this trip about 2 and a half months ago and then out of nowhere Thumper and I started dating and from that moment onward I'd been hearing a million different things in regards to whether I should continue with my plans or not. Some people said that as long as it was okay with Thumper then it was okay to go. Then some people said that it was way too soon in our relationship to just bluntly ask him, "Is it okay with you if I go?" And then of course there were some people who just plain said, "No!" Well I talked to him about it and he said, "I trust you." In my opinion that was the end of the controversy. He was okay with me going so it was finalized. But then as I was packing I thought what-if this and what-if that? I cooked up this awful scenario in my head and then spent the rest of the night trying to call Thumper so that I could see him before leaving, but my attempts were in vain. Thus I spent the rest of the night crying and worrying.

So the beginning of the trip was clouded with a lot of regret. Then one of the first nights here, I sat in the hotel lobby and talked to Dr Love and told him that I don't see why everyone is making such a big deal out of nothing. I am not the kind of person to cheat, not to mention the fact that Thumper is really important to me and I'd never do anything to ruin the way things are now. So he suggested that I tell him these things and so I did. Of course the conversation was a lot of me talking and gushing and Thumper listening, but I got it all out and I feel so much better about it all.

Now all I have to do is get home to him! Yeah!

Spare Change

2008-05-02T22:43:00.000-07:00

I hate change. I'm sure that I have already denounced it multiple times throughout this blog. But here lately there sure has been a lot of it in my life - and for once it's not half bad!

That job that I applied for in MICU - I got it! I drank about half a bottle of Pepto Bismol before my interview, but they loved me and I'll be moving upstairs sometime in July. The boss lady is taking it all rather well too, which really had me worried, since some of those who most recently transfered had a rough go of it.

Thumper and I are finally official! Yeah! It took him long enough to come to his senses, but it was well worth the wait. It's only been 2 weeks now that we're together, but of course I'm on cloud 9 or somewhere really heavenly, just wandering around acting like some goober. I guess this is what you would call being happy. Pure, unadulterated happiness, there's nothing quite like it.

I've been traveling a lot too. I just got back from sunny Florida where it is getting warm but not too warm. Right now it's just perfect. It stays in the low to mid 80's but without all that humidity. Then in about another week and a half Santa Claus and I are headed to The Windy City for about a week.

What more can I say? Things are going rather well for a change. I'd better not talk about it too much for fear I jinx myself. But if there seems to be a lack of blogging here lately it's because I'm busy with all this spare change!

Sto Lat!

2008-04-15T15:01:00.000-07:00

Happy 26th Birthday to my dear older sis, Dolly! I can hardly believe that we are getting to be in our mid-twenties. It feels like only just yesterday that you were chasing me around the backyard with worm guts smeared on your hands chanting, "Smell 'em!" All this of course coming from the same girl who all the way up through high school would steal my clean underwear out of the laundry, put them on her head, and take off running around the front yard for all of County Line Road to see my unmentionables! I would not be the least bit surprised if you were to come home and do it all over again because that's just who you are.

Oh how you tortured me as a young child. Like the time I decided to take a Sabbath afternoon nap, and just as I fell asleep you filled my Care Bear sleeping bag with spaghetti noodles, knowing full well how terrified I was of worms (gee I wonder where that fear came from?!). Or the multiple times you sat on top of me letting the saliva hang down from your mouth, slerping it up just before it dripped onto my face! Fond memories sis. . . .

I hope that Poland finds you happy and well. I pray that you are blessed with all your heart's desires and that this next year of life is brimming over with all the joys you could ever imagine. I love you very much!

XOXOXOXO

Where Have All My Readers Gone?

2008-04-12T03:41:00.000-07:00

When people ask me, "What's a blog?" I kindly inform them that it's like an online journal. So I suppose it seems completely insane to ask why there seems to be no one reading my journal of all things, but come on folks!

Here is your chance to get inside the mind of a young woman and explore the world from my point of view. Did I happen to mention ladies and gentlemen that this is your chance to get inside the mind of a young woman? Of course you read at your own risk, but really who could pass up such an opportunity?

So what I want to know is, where have all my readers gone?

MICU Here I Come!

2008-04-12T03:30:00.000-07:00

I hate change. It's just that simple. I'm not sure if it's the unsurity of it all, or the irregularity of getting off track from my usual routine that scares me. And it's not that I'm against any and all change. I'm not one of those people who can never rearrange the furniture or do something different with my hair. In fact, I more than enjoy those types of change. For quite awhile I'd become notorious for going to see Elizabeth, my stylist, and coming home having had all my hair chopped off. Yet this change, I'm sure, is well overdue.

A few days ago I sat down in front of my laptop and nervously filled out an online application to transfer upstairs to the Medical Intensive Care Unit (MICU). Of course after clicking the send button I burst into tears and paced the floor, cursing my own name, wondering what I had done to myself. These feelings continue to come in waves. Currently there's nothing more I can do from my end of the application process. Now I have to wait to hear from the director of the ICU's. So I suppose I really shouldn't entitle this blog "MICU Here I Come!" but more "MICU?"

Quote Of The Day

2008-04-10T03:55:00.000-07:00

Again, I found this one on the pull-off calendar up at the nurse's station at work, and I thought it was really fitting, especially considering how I've been feeling about God lately:

I am prepared to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is

prapared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter.

Sir Winston Churchill

I wouldn't necessarily say that I am ready to meet my Maker. I'd like to meet Him. There are quite a few matters I'd like to address with Him. I'm sure though there are times when He sees me coming and sighs heavily to Himself.

Lucky Lotto 6

2008-04-06T22:31:00.000-07:00

Here lately I feel as if religion, God, the whole nine yards, is nothing more than a gamble. You bring your requests and troubles before the Big Man seeking some sort of response, when really the numbers are not in your favor. There are far too many people on this Earth for you to expect to receive answers, unless of course, you get lucky.

I know it sounds as if I'm saying God doesn't exist, and I don't mean to come across as some sort of heathen. I'm just trying to understand how things get accomplished on the other end of things. Why is it that some people nearly kill themselves, and live a life of deprivation, all in the name of religion or God, with nothing to show for it all? While on the flip side of things there are people who will not hesistate to steal, murder, lie, and cheat their way through this life, and they have not a care in the world, and they want for nothing. Where is the fairness in that?! Of course here is where I cue the voice of my mother who gently reminds me that nobody said life would be fair and then proceeds to inquire, "Was life fair to Jesus?"

I guess lately I just feel like every aspect of my life is being pummeled by temptations that could easily become a long list of bad habits. Yet as downtrodden as I feel, there is something that continues to hold me back. Call it conscience, call it cowardice, call it whatever you like. My point is that I know far too many people who are just coasting along, doing whatever they please, and life is a cake walk for them. Then here I am, fighting tooth and nail to remain true to what I believe, and for what? What am I doing this for? Where is it getting me? Where's the benefit in this? Where's my lucky break?

Are You There God? It's Me, Patti. . . .

2008-04-01T03:52:00.000-07:00

Oh how I wish that this was all just some silly book and not real life. And believe me when I say, I don't need to be slapped to realize that this is my reality. No wake-up calls necessary! I'm fully awake, unfortunately.

Honestly, it's the pain that keeps me awake. The only sleep I've gotten over the last three days was forcefully induced after laying around for hours, bawling my eyes out, till I could barely breathe. Strange as it sounds though, that is the best sleep I ever seem to get anymore these days.

I often joke about men being cursed with selective hearing. It seems they only hear those things that are most pleasing to them, and that require as little effort on their part as possible. Here most recently I've even had the audacity to accuse God of using such an auditory filter. I feel as though I could cry all night to the point of exhaustion, and yet my cries fall on deaf ears.

To make matters worse, when He does speak to me, all I hear is "No." I can never hear God whenever He has anything else to say except "No." And it's not that I haven't tried either. I often pray to be able to hear Him, clearly. But it never fails that the "No's" come ringing in loud and clear. Perhaps I'm the one with the filter.

Don't You have anything else to say to me besides "No"?

Love Letters Of A Chronic Insomniac

2008-03-29T04:01:00.000-07:00

As I lay here, befriending the darkness of night yet again, I can't help but wonder even if you were here, would there be enough room for you in this overcrowded bed? To the observant onlooker, it would appear that there's only me lying here, the other side of this bed barren, the sheets cold.

Every night I climb into this grave, indentation on the right side of the bed, a daily reminder that the other side of the mattress remains flat, new, untouched. Yet as untouched as it seems, is there room for you here? Is there room amidst all the doubt and fear that shares these quarters with me day in and day out?

Where are you, that person who should be here watching me sleep and marveling at the reality of my existence; that person who feels a magnetic pull towards my physical being?

Does such a person even exist?

Oh The Irony!

2008-03-13T02:59:00.000-07:00

It never fails that the person who you wish would recognize you, doesn't, while the people who you wish would leave you alone, continue to take pleasure in annoying the snot out of you. Go figure!

Who Cares?

2008-03-06T02:13:00.000-08:00

Apparently I do, and so much so that I'm quite miserable.

And this is my curse.

I care where you go.

I care what you do.

I care why you're doing those particular things.

I care if you stay that extra hour or two.

I care if you look at me.

I care if you smile back at me.

I care if you care.

But tonight, I wish I didn't care at all. . . . .

Happy Birthday Bianca!

2008-03-03T08:34:00.000-08:00

It's been 2 years since I bought her, and she's still going strong!

Elevator Etiquette

2008-03-03T04:06:00.000-08:00

Yes indeed, there is such a thing as elevator etiquette, and no, I'm not talking about whatever frisky happenings occur after those doors close. That's between you and your hunny! The only rule applicable to that situation is, never get caught! What I'm talking about is what happens when the doors open.

Three days a week I ride the A Elevator to the first floor of Memorial Hospital and stumble down the hallway for a long night of nursing. The last thing I need is to walk off that elevator aggrevated because someone insists on breaking the rules of elevator loading and unloading.

I don't care if you hold the door for me, or if you're one of those people who sees me coming and sneers at me as your silhouette disappears behind the closing doors. I don't even care if you break wind while we're riding along. But please, for Pete's sake, when those doors open wait your turn to get out!

I really have no idea why this bothers me, but it does.

Here's how it's supposed to go: You decide whether you need to go up or down and wait about 10 years for the dang thing to come to you. When the doors open you wait until all the people already on the elevator decide where they need to go, and then you allow them to get off! Then, and only then, is it Kosher for you to get on.

I don't understand why this is so hard to understand, and I would think that most people would recognize that it's rude to be pushing past people who are trying to get to their destination, but oh well, silly me, uneducated Yankee. . . .

Also Known As. . . .

2008-03-03T03:41:00.000-08:00

It's no wonder that sometimes I don't know whether I'm coming or going. Check out all these nicknames:

Pat
Patser
Phoofy
Miss Patti
Nurse Patti
Patti-Cake
Little Red Riding Hood
Twin
Peppermint Patti
Pootie or Poot
Pretty Lady
Lil Bit
Malinka (some type of Russian berry) - given to me by Ms Future MD
Dyumovochka (Russian for Thumbelina) - given to me by Olga, but a new favorite for Ms Future MD
Patalina
Patalones (as opposed to pantalones)
Paterowski
Minnie Mouse
Fatty (thanks a lot JR)

Calendar Wisdom

2008-02-27T02:29:00.000-08:00

Sitting up at the nurse's station at work is one of those pull off calendars for which each day there is some tid-bit, joke, Bible verse, or widely known saying. While catching my breath during some downtime this evening I glanced over and read the quote for today:

"You can't ever be really free if you admire somebody too much." - Tove Jansson, Tales from Moominvalley, 1963

It's so true, and what's more is that these sayings really and truly are things that we are generally aware of, or have some knowledge of but don't know how to put it into words. Therefore someone with a more eloquent verbage took the liberty of expressing that which we already subconsciously know.

When you care for someone so much it tends to have such a powerful influence over your actions, and thoughts, and feelings, that in a sense you are not free. You're enslaved to that person because you care. You would do whatever was necessary to see that they were content, safe, and healthy.

Yet I suppose we're all guilty of this one in one way or another, so for me to say, beware, would be like preaching to the choir!

Tug O' War

2008-02-20T03:14:00.000-08:00

Here lately I feel like someone is playing Tug O' War with my heart. One day I lean towards this side and then almost instantly, and rather unexpectedly, I'm leaning towards the other side. And it's not that there is anyone in particular who is pulling me this way and that. As with most things, it's generally something I've brought upon myself.

I find myself being torn between the things that I long for, but realize are an impossibility, and the idea of something new. Yet being the person who knows exactly what's pulling me this way and that, I'm doing an awful job of controlling it. I suppose that's where all those Mystic Complexities fit into the picture. How wonderful things would be if we could just control even one aspect of this hellish torture we call life!

Despite the fact that we're speaking figuratively here, I'm exhausted. My poor body feels as if it's actually been fighting back and forth for whatever I want. Unfortunately, neither the left nor the right appears to be stronger than the other. . . .

Happy Valentine's Day

2008-02-13T23:40:00.000-08:00

Maybe next year. Hmmmm, deja vu. . . . .

Melancholy Melodies

2008-02-11T05:16:00.000-08:00

I heard this song for the first time the other day and I just sat and cried my eyes out. Sometimes I'm so melancholy it's frightening!

When You're Dreaming With A Broken Heart

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for the moment you can hardly breathe
Wondering was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
No she's not, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The giving up is the hardest part
She takes you in with your crying eyes
Then all at once you have to say goodbye
Wondering could you stay my love?
Will you wake up by my side?
No she can't, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....

Oooooooooohhhhhhhhh

Now do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do I have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Baby won't you get them if I did?
No you won't, 'cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....

When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part

- John Mayer

Mystic Complexities

2008-02-04T02:47:00.000-08:00

While getting dressed for work this evening I turned on the TV to provide myself some background noise as I ran from room to room. It's been over a month now that I'm in the new house, and only 2 of those 6 weeks having a fully operating television. I somehow let the cable guy talk me into signing up for a movie package which allows me access to more movie channels than I can count.

I have a classical movie channel, multiple action movie channels, a latin movie channel, a love movie channel, and about 4 or 5 HBO channels, all with their own special name. It just so happens that when I turned on the TV today that I had been watching the love movie channel, which really is quite fitting once you consider who all was watching TV in the first place.

Encore Love was playing Mystic Pizza, one of Julia Roberts' older movies. I'd heard of it before and started watching it once way back when, yet never got into it enough to finish. Unfortunately this occasion was much like the last and I was far too busy to pay attention to the plot. Nevertheless as I ran between the kitchen and living room I feverishly tried to play catch-up and understand what was happening with the characters.

I never was able to figure out her name, yet there was one character who when compared to the others stood out in my mind. The few scenes that I saw in their entirety consisted of this character, a young girl, who had fallen in love with an older man whose child she was helping care for while the mother was away on business. Of course as the story goes, she spent so much time caring for the child that she also found herself spending more and more time with this older gentleman whom she came to love.

In one particular scene this young girl was being grilled and guilted by a friend, for loving someone who was already married, as if she chose to throw herself into the middle of a love triangle. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that because someone falls in love with another person who's married, that that justifies any wrongdoing that might happen between the two parties. But surely this girl did not sit down and plot her affair with this man, much less plan to fall in love with him in the first place! Without question, we could save ourselves a lot of grief and heartache in this lifetime if we had the ability to choose whom we fall in love with. But perhaps that's why we call it "falling" in love in the first place.

Relationships are complicated. Even the best relationships are complicated due in part to the unavoidable fact that matters of the heart are complicated. Despite this fact we seem to get by just fine for the most part, although it is not surprising that there are individuals who do indeed become restless with this idea of a healthy relationship, and feel compelled to make drama for themselves, oftentimes worsening an already complicated situation. Generally though, the majority of people don't sit around scheming about how they'll meet some random person with whom at first they feel no attraction, only later to realize they've fallen madly in love with them. This is life. We aren't dealing the cards. We just take what we get.

I suppose this movie character struck such a chord with me because I have experienced her pain. We're kindred spirits. That's not to say that I have had an affair with a married man, because I assure you I have not. But, I have fallen in love with someone who is in a serious, committed relationship. I never asked to love someone so much, and I have often thought that maybe I would be better off having never felt anything for this person, only then to bite my tongue. Yet when I revealed my feelings to another close friend, the first thing they reminded me was that this person was in a relationship, and for all intensive purposes, practically married.

They repremanded me as if I had already put myself in a compromising position. They treated me as if I was a stranger to them, and they had completely forgotten the fact that there are few things that I value more than marriage and honesty. I was being punished because I woke up one morning and felt like I might suffocate if I never saw this person again. I never chose to love them. It just happened.

So you see, it's easy to jump to conclusions, but really it's anything but easy. It would be easier if we could choose who we fall in love with instead of wishing to fall into their arms and stay there forever. . . .

Roll The Dice

2008-01-31T02:15:00.000-08:00

I've become so accustomed to thinking with my head that I rarely listen to my heart at all anymore. I suppose that is due in part to the pain that I've brought upon myself by allowing myself to think with my heart instead of my head. There is no better teacher than pain, whether it be physical, emotional, or psychological.

When something hurts you never forget it. If you're lucky it may be classified as so minor that shortly after its onset it becomes only a faint memory, yet sure to someday resurface. Unfortunately, in addition to teaching us life's hardest lessons, it also seems to set within us a whole new degree of fear that we never knew before.

Recently I recognized a situation that could have the potential to change my life for the better. Yet when I recall the things I know and I weigh the pain vs. the potential benefits, my head takes over and reins me in. Tonight I found myself in one such situation as I tried to contact someone over Myspace. I typed out what I had rehearsed in my head, and just as I was preparing to click the send button I stopped myself. I was just a simple greeting, a comment really. But then I did what I do best. I analyzed, and created my own ending to the situation. One that is never quite as appealing as I imagined it would be. Then I second guessed myself and threw the cart before the horse.

But then I thought, "What are you so worried about?" "Maybe that this is something good?" "Maybe you'll prove yourself wrong." If we always play it safe we'll never know. I'd rather feel the pain of a mistake than live the rest of my life with regret, regret because of something I didn't do - because I was too scared.

I suppose too, a big part of our problem as humans is that we negate God from the situation. He has the most amazing way of bringing people together for his glory and often times our own happiness.

So it is that I roll the dice, and anticipate what He has in store for me.

Let Yourself Go

2008-01-29T19:36:00.000-08:00

The only thing sitting between them was General Tao's Tofu, her demeanor more relaxed than his. He inquired as to how her week had been. She proceeded at first with a sigh, and continued to express her relief as that afternoon she had finished taking her last final exam. "Relaxed" was the word she used to describe her mood. "I can see that," came his sneer response as he eyed her T-shirt, sweats, and flip-flops.

He always jested with her about women's tendency to "let themselves go" (as he called it) once they felt the securities provided by a new relationship. He spoke of it as if he had already asked her to commit to him, and she was somehow letting him down by donning a pair of sweatpants. Nevertheless his snide remark stung, and sprung inside her a string of rebuttals which she regretfully never expressed. Countless times she had dressed and manicured herself to please him, and yet she was the one nagging him to shave off 2 weeks worth of stubble.

Now, almost 5 years later those scenes replayed themselves in her head again as she dressed in front of the mirror. She was tired. Tired of constantly maintaining her beauty in hopes that someday, someone, would look at her with more than just a little appreciation. If physical appearances aren't so important then why did he make her feel so inadequate over a pair of sweatpants? Life with him was always a double standard. Nothing was ever applicable to him. He was the ultimate exception.

She glanced in the mirror before turning out the light. She was just as beautiful today as she had been almost 5 years ago sitting in that little hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant, sweatpants and all.

Word To Your Mother!

2008-01-28T04:28:00.000-08:00

Let's get one thing straight - there's nothing wrong with me. There's nothing wrong with being 24 and being single. There's nothing wrong with this! Furthermore, I'm not some dart board you can throw random men at. I care if someone is attractive and takes care of themselves. I care if we share things in common. I care if you can make me laugh. I care if you're sensitive, patient, and just generally speaking, a good christian.

And just because someone does glance in my general direction, does not mean I am obligated to said individual. I am not obligated to talk to anyone, or go out with them. And even if someone is Seventh-day Adventist doesn't mean that they are worthwhile. Likewise, practicing anything outside the realm of Adventism doesn't automatically exclude them as a possibility.

Stop comparing me! I'm not your ex, or the girl you grew up with, or the person you've built in the dark confines of your mind. I'm me. And if that's something you can't handle then don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya! I'm done being nice and just sitting back being a spectator of my own social life. I have a say, and I've had enough. No more bad dates. No more forced dates. In fact, no more dates for awhile, period. I'm taking a hiatus.

Eastern Division Champs!

2007-10-01T03:05:00.000-07:00

Now that we've won they're all jumping on the band wagon! Only a true Philadelphia Phillies fan will stick by their team through the good, the bad, and the ugly. Yesterday we tasted victory as we beat the Nationals 6-1 to end a 14 year playoff drought! Leading the way was our very own homeboy Jamie Moyer who pitched 5 incredible innings. I guess all that superstitious spaghetti he ate before the game paid off. Congrats fellas! This year we're going all the way! Eat my shorts Chipper Jones!

Clean Sweep

2007-09-28T15:27:00.000-07:00

Have you ever accidentally swept up a live spider? As you brush them along the floor and into the pile of dirt they run with all their might and for all they're worth, never getting to where they want to go, almost as if they're on a miniature treadmill.

This is how I feel. I feel as if I'm being swept away but I haven't a clue as to where I'm going to end up. In the meantime I'm running, and running, and running, and running but not sure to where or to whom. Thus I'm quite exhausted and very confused.

As fall finally approaches I find myself in the mood for some cleaning. Generally this only happens in spring and fall - I'm not sure why - probably because these two seasons are the start of something totally different. Spring marks the beginning of warmth and life. Fall marks the beginning of winter, and not necessarily death, but a change that's just as unique and beautiful as spring. I've been looking forward to this change. It's actually one that I'm ready for.

I'm realizing that there are so many things in my life that I really could just do without. These last few weeks I have felt so miserable, and one just doesn't feel miserable for no reason. So I've been adding and subtracting, playing trial and error with certain things, trying to figure out what's causing my joy's downfall.

Without even guessing and testing there are some things that have laid silent in my subconscious that I've been ignoring, but am fully aware of the pain they cause. I'd be a fool plain and simple if I continued ignoring them and therefore continuing to suffer. The battle ax is out and swinging and there are some things that are going to get cut off and swept away. This is the only way I know to fix things.

The Doctor is IN

2007-09-20T14:56:00.000-07:00

It seems that lately I have the answer to everything and anything. I'm never surprised when I answer my phone and suddenly become inundated with medical questions and detailed descriptions of personal symptoms. Generally I have something insightful to say and credible advice to give. Yet, like I previously mentioned, the questions as of late have spanned the topics of marriage, all the way down the line to sex! Listen folks, there is not an "M.D." after my name, nor is there a "G.O.D." after my name! I'm not a doctor of psychiatry. I'm not your therapist. And I'm certainly not your sex therapist! I don't have the answers you are looking for!

I understand that desperate times call for desperate measures, but please, try to find someone to spill your guts to who knows even a fraction of what you're talking about. I know Jack squat about sex people! I haven't been kissed, touched, or even looked at cross-eyed in years. In case that wasn't blunt enough for you - I'm a virgin! Hello! I'm at a loss as to what you want me to say. Not only do I not know anything about sex but I know nothing about marriage either. I know nothing about marital spats. I'm not the best mediator for this situation.

Even bigger though than my loss for words is my future plan of action. I can't say, "Don't call me." My ears and shoulders are always open for business. I'm always available to listen, and you can always cry on my shoulder. I even enjoy giving advice when I feel the situation merits my minute expertise. Yet, why would you seek the advice of someone who knows nothing about what you are experiencing? Sure, there are times when all you need is someone to listen. But wouldn't you feel odd talking about sex with someone who had never had sex before? Maybe I'm wrong, but to me that is HUGE, not to mention extremely personal. I wouldn't even talk to my mother about something like that. This is why people go to school and become therapists specializing in various aspects of human life.

I'm not saying that I'm not there for these people who find themselves in these sorts of situations. If that were the case I just wouldn't answer my phone, and I wouldn't be the friend that I am. All I'm asking is that you think before you put me in an awkward, hopeless situation.

The doctor is OUT!

Hell-O Wentworth!

2007-09-15T23:57:00.000-07:00

The new third season of Prison Break starts this monday night. Praise the Lord I don't have to work! I can hardly contain myself!

The Winds of Change Are A Blowin'

2007-09-13T11:56:00.001-07:00

And they blew me right into Elizabeth's salon chair. She's my hairapist. I spill my guts to her while she makes me beautiful. I've been feeling like I want to do something different with myself. I suppose some of that includes a bit of an attitude adjustment, along with some physical sprucing up.

While waiting to get into the chair I thumbed through a magazine and immediately found something that I liked. After showing it to Elizabeth she looked up at me and smiled. By this I knew she agreed, and the rest is history.

I'm not going to go so far as to say it's short, but there was a significant amount of my hair on the floor. When I want change, I go all out. I feel lighter. I feel different, but still me.

Throwing In The Towel

2007-09-13T11:19:00.000-07:00

With each passing day I am becoming more and more resolved with the idea of just remaining single, not because I want to, but because it seems inevitable. I've never had much success when it comes to love. I generally find myself falling for Mr. Unattainable.

My love life consists of 2 distinct scenarios: I love the man who will never love me in return, and I love the man who realistically would never exist. I fear too, that I've set the bar too high, so that even the most perfect person has some unacceptable flaw. How picky is too picky, and am I settling if I decide to nix some of my standards and values just to ensure that I'm not alone?

For my 24th birthday Dolly sent me the most amazing package brimming with wonderfully personalized gifts. In her wisdom she sent me a copy of a book she's read and reread, and insists has changed the way she relates to men. It's called "Catch Him and Keep Him." by Christian Carter. Apparently the author has cracked open the skull of the average Joe Bag O' Donuts and dissected his brain. We just so happen to be the lucky recipients of his findings.

I started reading "Catch Him and Keep Him" but didn't get very far. I'm tired. I'm tired of being told that I have to play this game, and follow these rules just to hook a man, when there's no guarantee that he's even worthwhile.

I like to consider myself to be a fairly simple, uncomplicated female. Despite what men think there are some of us who are in fact, very decided and straight-laced . What's so complicated about wanting to be with a Christian, honest, trustworthy, faithful, sensitive man?

So really at the present my life consists mostly of work and friends, which unfortunately has proven to be just as challenging as finding Mr. Wonderful. Our lives are so mismatched anymore. Everybody's got their own agenda, and the days don't hold enough hours to accomplish everything on our To-Do list.

Ur Sure Lookin' Good!

2007-09-11T14:40:00.000-07:00

Was the message scribbled onto a piece of paper, plastered against the driver's side window. As I rounded the ridge cut on Interstate 24 going downtown, I found myself Oreo-creamed between two 18-wheelers, which really doesn't bother me. All the trips home to Pennsylvania have broken me of any fear of trucks, over-sized loads, and even roadkill.

So of course I cruised down the hill and around the corner, jammin' all the way. Over the sounds of the radio I heard the blare of a tractor trailer horn, and I'm telling you this man was laying on his horn! I was sure that I hadn't done anything that might illicit an angry horn honking so I looked over to my right to see the driver of this monster 18-wheeler grinning from ear to ear, one hand on the wheel and the other holding up the aforementioned sign! First comes the increased blood flow to my face and then the laughter! I nearly drove off the road. It's gotta be my lucky jeans. . . . .

Music Junkie

2007-09-11T14:21:00.000-07:00

Voodoo Number Lady and I must be kindred spirits. It seems the longer I know her, the more I find that we have in common. She has this inherent ability to sense my likes and dislikes.

For a number of weeks now she has been telling me about one of her favorite songs by Tori Amos called Famous Blue Raincoat. Apparently she found it on a single quite a few years ago and can't seem to find it anywhere else. She was sure that I would like it just as much as she does, and has been promising me that she would let me borrow it so I could make a copy for not only myself, but an extra one for her as well.

Finally, just this week she brought it into work. Not surprisingly, I really enjoyed Famous Blue Raincoat.Tori Amos is really talented on the piano. But she also brought along another CD that she wanted me to listen to so I could throw my opinion her way. The album is called Songbird and the artist is Eva Cassidy. She reminds me a lot of Nora Jones, but she seems to have a bit of a gospel edge. I wasn't sure whether I would like her work, but it will just blow you away! Her voice is so soothing, and of course I already have a favorite song. Check out the lyrics below and enjoy!

Songbird

For you there'll be no crying
For you the sun will be shining
'Cause I feel that when I'm with you
It's all right I know it's right

And the songbirds keep singing
Like they know the score
And I love you I love you I love you
Like never before

To you I would give the world
To you I'd never be cold
'Cause I feel that when I'm with you
It's all right I know it's right

And the songbirds keep singing
Like they know the score
And I love you I love you I love you
Like never before Like never before

Like never before. . . . .

Sticks and Stones

2007-09-05T02:45:00.000-07:00

We all know how the rest of the little ditty goes - may break my bones, but names will never hurt me. At first I have to laugh to myself because it's been so long since I heard someone say it. And then I have to laugh again because really it's such a crock! I suppose that was the bandaid people used back in the day to make things seem all better. I vividly remember multiple occasions where my great grandmother recited it to me.

I suppose it could just be that I'm a little overly sensitive, but I don't buy into the whole, ". . . . names will never hurt me." It seems too that the people with whom you are closest are the ones who manage to hurt you the worst. Of course that's due in part to the fact that they probably know you quite intimately, leaving you totally vulnerable. You've laid yourself wide open, all your weaknesses exposed, just waiting for someone to take a stab at you, which unfortunately is bound to happen eventually.

It's easy to be mean to someone, whether you like them or not, or even whether you love them or not. It's much easier to think of something hurtful to say to someone. Insult is easier then affirmation. And it's only natural that the vindictive part of our soul is enlarged.

Over the last few weeks I've really got my feelings hurt a couple of times. I still can't say for sure whether it was intentional or not. I like to think that it was just an overreaction on my part, but then I look at how well these people know me and reason that surely they would know that what they said or did was going to hurt me.

I know that I have a tendency to be a little thin-skinned, but compared to years past I'm much better. It seems my problem is that I let myself care too much. I let myself care about people too much, which really is a guaranteed ticket to getting yourself hurt. It's inevitable.

About a month ago there was a quote on the pull off calendar at the nurse's desk, it said, "Sometimes people care too much. I think they call it love." - Winnie the Pooh. I peeled it off and took it home with me the next morning. It's tucked away inside the one drawer in my kitchen. I look at it often. Pooh had it right, and that's exactly my problem.

Now that the hurt is wearing off, I feel more or less angry. These last few days especially, I've been stewing. Part of me would just love to retaliate and throw daggers at these individuals, because like I said before, it's easy to be mean. But really I'm not that kind of person. I guess what it all boils down to is that I would like them to know that I'm hurt. I want to know why they said what they said, or did what they did. Was it all just a joke, or am I justified in feeling so hurt?

Huh?

2007-08-29T14:14:00.000-07:00

Peter Gabriel once said, "I wanna be your sledgehammer." When I was little, and MTV still actually played music videos, this was one of my favorite videos ever.

I've heard this song twice in the last 2 days and the lyrics really got me to thinking. When I heard the intro for the song come blaring through my stereo speakers I could almost see the video replay in my head. There's something especially strange about the one particular scene where they animate a sledgehammer which swings and cracks open 2 eggs, and inside are 2 cooked chickens like you'd find on a rotisserie spit, who dance with each other. Now that's imagination at it's finest! But what I really want to know is, what the heck was he saying? "I wanna be your sledgehammer." Should I be blushing? What does it mean?

Thought For The Day

2007-08-22T03:20:00.000-07:00

This too shall pass, much like a kidney stone - long, drawn-out, and excruciatingly painful.

Tis The Gift To Be Simple

2007-08-16T16:36:00.000-07:00

Despite my sweaty palms and racing heart I clutched the microphone as if I had a magnet in my hand, and belted out my solo part to Simple Gifts. That was in the seventh grade. The Second and Santa Claus both have birthdays which are rapidly approaching. A few weeks ago I decided that I wanted to get them something, but I'm still not quite sure what.

Generally I'm much better at giving gifts than receiving them, yet there is something about shopping for men in particular, that leaves me full of apprehension and dread. I like to believe that because I know them well I would do a good job making my individual selections, yet I'd proven myself wrong in that department before, so who am I trying to fool?

I'd just returned from Thanksgiving break which I'd spent in South Carolina with Rachel and Ronald. As tradition demands we'd drug ourselves out of bed at the crack of dawn to hit the Black Friday door-buster sales. Thus I was not surprised when I found myself lugging twice as much stuff up the 3 flights of stairs to my dorm room in Thatcher Hall.

Tucked neatly inside one of my suitcases was a crimson red, silk necktie, that seemed to call to me from the rack on which it hung. While waiting in line to make my purchase I closed my eyes and could almost see his face. He was smiling at me. And it was almost as if I was dreaming in black and white because all I could see was the brilliance of that tie, and how it seemed to compliment his sheer existence. I was pleased with myself.

In the midst of studying for finals I managed to find the time to make several trips to various craft stores in search of the perfect tissue paper and ribbon. Sitting at my desk one evening I carefully folded the tie and placed it in the little green box I'd made with Rachel's mom. I secured the lid in place with gold ribbon and stepped back to look at what I'd accomplished. It was almost too pretty to open.

A week and a half later, as I prepared to travel to Pennsylvania for Christmas break, I took the little green box out of my closet, and along with a stack of loaner books, headed to his house. I was cold and rainy. He was tying his shoes when I knocked on the door, which communicated that he did not intend on our visit being long. I handed him the books, the little green box balanced on top. "What's this?" he asked. "It's for you." I replied with one hand on the doorknob.

As I drove away I felt proud of myself. He'd rejected me repeatedly but my spirit was far from weakened. The day before I departed for home the phone rang. It was him. What followed was a pathetic attempt to choke back laughter, intermingled with words of supposed thanks for a gift too simple. He never wore that tie. He couldn't have hurt me more than if he had spit in my face. We didn't speak to each other after that.

That was the last time I ever bought a gift for a man, except my dad of course, who would've never laughed at me, even if I'd presented him with a sack full of dog crap.

People often try to justify their ungratefulness by saying, "It was the thought that counts." But this went far beyond a cliche. I'm not saying that a necktie is anything to get particularly excited about. That, in and of itself is rather cliche. But there was so much of my soul in that little green box, something far more priceless and even beautiful. Perhaps had he known me at all he would've seen that. So I suppose it's not what you give that matters, but why you're giving a gift in the first place. For me it's never been an obligation. The calendar doesn't dictate what I do for the people I love.

Yet none of this makes it any more clear what I should buy. Sigh. . . .

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

2007-08-12T02:08:00.000-07:00

Growing up my older sister dubbed us as follows: she had the talent, Vicky had the looks, and I had the brains. Yet with each passing year I am beginning to think that perhaps anything of genetic worth found its way into her DNA, leaving the rest of us lacking.

The other day she related to me a conversation that she had with D.B. look-a-like. If I remember correctly he said something to the effect of, "Aren't you in love?" And being the woman she is she retorted, "Aren't you in love?" He returned the question with the typical male response, "Of course." Again prying just a little deeper she asked the obvious question, "With who?" Finally after ping ponging back and forth he admitted it was her that he loved. I simultaneously felt pangs of both joy and discouragement. Joy in that she had found love and seems to be the only one in our family thus far to find it, yet discouraged and probably a little jealous because it seems no matter what I do, I'll never be able to get someone to fall in love with me.

It seems she has this inherent ablility to get men to fall in love with her. Foreign, American, young, old, it really doesn't matter. And she doesn't even have to be looking for it either. She's the posterchild for my favorite Sting song. Put her in a room with a man and you can almost hear the lyrics and melody being piped into the background - Every little thing she does is magic. . . . .

Someone once told me that not everyone in this world is meant to be with someone. I'm not sure if they were truly being honest or if they were trying to depress me. In a few weeks I'll be 24 and I'm really beginning to believe that love just isn't in the cards for me. I'm fully aware of the fact that I'm still young and I have "plenty of time for marriage etc." But I can't help but wonder why I can't seem to set fire to someone's soul.

Maybe it's not in my numbers. I'll have to ask Voodoo Number Lady.

The Name Game 101

2007-08-11T16:56:00.000-07:00

At work we have a lingo all our own. 1 North is the only unit in the entire hospital where you're either working on The Predator, The Jungle, The Killer Corners, or The Back of the Bus. And there's little point in wearing a name badge because everyone's got a nickname. When other nurses float to our floor we have to educate them so they know who's who, and what's what.

The nurse's nicknames all have a story behind them, which really we should make into book to publish and sell for a profit. It's all just too funny. For the sake of this blog, you're just going to get the names, and if you care to hear the story behind it all, give me a call:

Hickey quit quite awhile ago, and just recently we lost Tea and Crumpets as well. If you want to be able to give your meds on time you must learn to appease the Pyxis Troll. If you want to know what's in your future just ask the Voodoo Number Lady. If The Barracuda calls from the monitor room you can be sure that something's wrong. If you ever have a problem there's little to no point in talking to Cletus, it's likely you'd be referred to talk to Bin Laden. Pray that you're not in charge when Hop-A-Long Bananas is working because you won't be able to get anything done. Stand clear of Princess Pomeranian because she's sure to be fixing her hair.

It's been said that location is everything, so get ready for your virtual tour:

The Predator is the front hallway, and it is called such because there's nowhere to hide. You're right there at the double doors, and whether you're looking to escape the night supervisor or Hop-A-Long Bananas, you might as well forget it.

The Jungle is the middle hallway, and it is called such because the patient clientele vary from day to day, or really from minute to minute. One minute everything is peachy keen, and the next you've got some crazy breaking out of 4 point restraints and a Posey vest, wandering down the hall like a zombie.

The Killer Corners are the corner rooms of each of the 3 hallways, and it is called such because you usually find yourself running from room to room all night long caring for the most needy, ungrateful people this side of the Mississippi.

The Back of the Bus is the back hallway, and it is called such because you're far away from everyone else, and the patient load makes you feel like you're being punished, and you're not quite sure why.

Got it? Get it? Good!

Bringing Sexy Back

2007-08-11T12:47:00.000-07:00

On 1 North we're always bringing sexy back. I don't care who you are, or what you do, or even if you intended on bringing sexy back - it's happening! Our nurses, our techs, our secretaries, our phlebotomists, our respiratory therapists, and a specially select few of our doctors have truly got it going on. Perhaps I'm a little biased, but it just seems to me that we do what everyone else does except with a little extra pizazz.

Last night, for the first time in about 2 weeks, I actually had a good, productive, relatively easy, night at work, despite the fact that I was on the Killer Corners. At about 2 or 3 'o clock in the morning Momma called out to me from room 187, and before she even opened her mouth I knew what she needed. Just a few days before I'd dealt with the exact same scenario 3 times over! Thus I was not surprised when she admitted with much dismay that the patient's colostomy had come off yet again, and she needed some help getting him situated. But really if the story was that easy I probably wouldn't be telling it.

This particular patient was on contact isolation due to having certain infections, mandating that whenever you went in the room to care for the patient you were required to wear a long sleeve, blue plastic gown, face mask, and gloves. Lucky for me, having cared for the patient before, and being deemed colostomy expert by the family, I headed down to the room to offer my assistance. I feel like I ought to own a brown cape with a "C" on it or something. Anyway, I got all decked out and headed into the room. I suppose now would be an ideal time to tell you that the aforementioned plastic gown swallows me whole, literally. Once I have this costume completely on I look more like an astronaut ready to head into outer space than a nurse. It's all but flattering. But I digress. . . .

So I'm in the room doing that amazing colostomy thing I do, and for whatever reason the I'm Too Sexy song jumps into my head, and the whole time I'm trying to concentrate and do what needs to be done I can't help but hum to myself, "I'm too sexy for this gown, this mask, these gloves. So sexy it hurts!"

Later I told Momma that we should perform our version of the song for hospital administration. I bet they'd like it.

Writer's Block - 0 ; Me - 1

2007-07-31T03:51:00.000-07:00

Lately I had been inspired to write a poem. As usual, quite a few of the lines came to me so naturally it was almost as if the poem was writing itself. In high school and college there were countless times when I had a writing assignment of sorts and found myself frustrated and struggling with writer's block. Yet whenever I write poems I never really seemed to have that problem, until now.

This poem was constructed backwards. First came the ending lines, and then came the beginning. For whatever reason though, the two segments didn't flow together. There was no connecting thought process, which quite frankly defeats the whole purpose of writing in the first place.

Luckily Sabbath was quiet and inspirational, and since I was already leaning towards feeling rather meloncholy, it took very little effort for me to be able to finish. Hopefully you'll like it as much as I do:

Her Mother's Daughter

"Do as I say, and not as I do."
Became the indoctrination of her childhood.
Her life's path predestined
As a result of her blood line.
She was cursed to repeat these misdoings.
Fear of ridicule
Taught her to resist temptation.
Drawing lines in the sand
Of an already barren love life,
She admired from afar,
Looking but never touching,
Battling against learned behaviors and
Setting boundaries so as not to
Become her mother's daughter.

Don't Take It Personally!

2007-07-08T03:15:00.000-07:00

I've always had the tendency to take things personally, even when someone's actions or words weren't directed specifically at me. I like to think this helps me to maintain a certain degree of sensitivity. Yet there have been occasions where I've allowed myself to get overly involved, and ultimately found myself nursing bruised feelings in response to someone's behavior. Just this last week I encountered a patient's spouse who left me both disgruntled toward the ideals of marriage, and really quite brokenhearted on behalf of the patient.

The patient had quite an extensive medical history, but remained quite spry for someone pushing 90 years old. Unfortunately she was one of 2 patients on my hallway that had an ileosotomy after suffering for years with Crohn's disease. Most simply put an ileosotomy is when a portion of the intestines is brought to the surface of the abdomen and sutured in place. The patient then wears a bag over the site to catch the waste. Essentially this is how the person uses the bathroom. It's quite awful really. I always feel some extra sympathy for those poor souls who have to live with one. Yet this particular patient wasn't going to let it get her down. She was still just as pleasant as the next person.

Of course my ultimate fear came true when she called me into the room and said that she thought her bag had come loose from her abdomen. After cleaning her up we began to strategize what to do next. She tried to explain that there was something specific that needed to be done before a new bag was put on. As she tried to explain it to me we both became more and more confused. She then sighed and told me that her husband was a whiz at changing her bag and he would know what needed to be done. She continued to gush over her spouse and how great he was about taking care of her and how quickly he learned what to do. I insisted that I could do the job just fine, but she seemed nervous enough that I figured I'd just let her husband come and take care of the situation since he was so experienced, and she assured me that he wouldn't mind. Thus I dialed the phone and handed her the receiver. Before leaving the room I instructed her to call me when he arrived so I could better understand what she had previously been trying to tell me.

15 minutes had passed when I received a page that the patient's spouse was at the bedside and was waiting for me to come into the room. Upon entering the room it was clear that the tone of the atmosphere had drastically changed. An elderly man, with strangly youthful hands, and a plaid shirt shuffled around the room without even addressing the patient. As he gathered the supplies I offered my assistance and explained to him that his wife was more comfortable having him care for her. He then replied by saying, "Well this sure as hell isn't my job." He never looked up. He just continued with his "job."

I glanced over at the patient who immediately began making excuses for both his foul mood and rude comment. She seemed nervous and injured by his words. Yet she was right to brag about how quickly he took to learning the entire process. In no time she was fitted with a new bag, the mess was cleaned up, and she was ready to settle in for the night. I later found out, by the husband's own admittance, that when we called to request his assistance he was in fact sitting at a bar, having a drink. This of course really lit my fire, not to mention the fact that he considered caring for his wife a "job."

In the 3 days that I had been caring for her he never once came to visit, and yet it was far too much of a burden for him to come and do something for her that he was really quite skilled at in the first place. The patient had already told me that she would have done it herself except her vision was bad and she couldn't see what she was doing. I would've gladly done it myself, except under the bag adhesive she had developed a small wound which needed specific care. This, of course, was what she was trying to describe to me but was far too upset at the time to come across clearly.

I cried for 2 days after that. Just thinking about what he said sent me into a fury of tears. After close to 50 years of marriage he saw her as a job, something that was required of himself. But even more then that was how he treated her to her face. All the while she never had a single ill thing to say about him, and continued to sing his praise. I would've mustered up all the strength left in my frail, sickly body and punched him dead in the face had he talked to me like that. Then I would have taken off my wedding band and thrown it at him. All that, and for what? One lousy drink!

It never ceases to amaze me how different love grows between people. Many months ago I cared for an elderly man who was admitted with confusion. He fretted so about the idea of losing his memory, and thus I found him reciting poetry. He said it was "exercise" for his brain. After I admitted that I too was a poet, he asked if I wanted to hear some of his work. To my delight he repeated, word for word, a beautiful poem that he had written for his wife relating when they had first got married. He didn't so much as even stumble over one syllable. He still loved her as if he had first laid eyes on her. She was his everything. I had to sit down by his bedside and cry. It was so refreshing to see someone who didn't let time change his feelings. Time had no bearing on their relationship.

Yet the realist in me knows that it's not always like that. People change. Sometimes for good, and sometimes for bad. I can't help but feel that I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life then to grow old with someone only to learn that I've become an obligation to them, a "job." Needless to say, now that I'm done crying I'm left with quite a bit of uncertainty.

The Painting

2007-06-26T03:49:00.000-07:00

It's been something that I've been thinking about for quite awhile but, only just now felt inspired to write about it. Thus the story begins about 2 weeks ago while I was joyriding through Georgia. My cell rang and the caller ID indicated that it was my grandmother, better known to those of us in the family as, Mom-Mom.

She had been talking to Aunt Emily (one of her many sisters) who informed her that while cleaning out the baptistry at the church she found a painting of Jesus holding a baby. On the back of the painting read - "To Patti, Love Grandmom 1984."

At first there had been some speculation as to whether this "Patti" being addressed was Aunt Emily's daughter Patti, who is in fact my namesake, or me. They finally assumed that considering the nature of the painting's content, and the fact that I was merely a year old, the painting was intended for me. Apparently Grandmom (my great grandmother) had asked Aunt Elsie (another one of Mom-Mom's sisters) to paint the picture for me as a gift.

Her call was not only to tell me about the painting and ponder how it wound up under the baptismal tank, but also to ask me if I wanted it. Of course! Our call ended with her promising to send it to Tennessee as soon as she received it in the mail from Aunt Emily.

As I continued to drive I couldn't help but wonder what Grandmom would think of me if she could see and know the Patti of 2007. I pray with a hopeful heart that she would be proud of the person that I have become, or better yet, the woman I've become. Yet I can't seem to shake the idea that she would be sorely disappointed with this great granddaughter.

I've often been told that I'm "hard on myself." I know too, that I am a pleaser. I like to make people happy, and will often will go to insane lengths to win someone's approval or affections. It would be so nice to know that maybe there was someone who could look at me, and I would know that there was nothing more I could do to make them proud of me. I wish Grandmom could be that person.

Miss Understood

2007-06-23T14:27:00.000-07:00

I feel as if I'm not coming across very clearly to my readers. In response to this last blog entry I received a comment that left me a little confused and thus I feel the need to clarify a few things.

Oatmeal's protege is not some creep. He hasn't done anything to hurt me, and he's certainly not trying to win my affections. In fact, he's very involved with his own significant other. I was just merely relating an instance of harmless flirtation and wondering about the meaning behind it all as it jogged some memories from my past involving someone who on a good day I would graciously, and in a very attempted Christian-like manor refer to as only a creep. I could easily think of a few more colorful adjectives to describe said person, but why stoop to that level?

Furthermore, my curiosity doesn't stem from some secret interest in him. He is barely what I would call an acquaintance. That's not to say that I wouldn't care if something happened to him. That would go against my nature. Yet, he is certainly not someone I would confide in (no offense to him) or even remotely someone that I hold near and dear to my heart.

I have a hard time accepting any type of compliment, especially those that I consider to be a little over the top, such as what he said to me the other morning. Which really is no one's fault but my own. I allowed one person, one very unworthy person, to steal my joy and confidence in myself. Thus whenever some Joe Bag o' Donuts says something sickeningly sweet to me I can't help but wonder what his motives are, and what he really means. If it were someone like The Second or even Santa Claus, there would be no question in regards to their sincerity.

Prince Too Charming

2007-06-21T17:47:00.000-07:00

I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with being charming. In just the right amounts it can be a very attractive personality trait. It's when people slather on charm like it's going out of style that I become a little more sceptical. Even the Bible warns us about the deceitful nature of too much charm.

Tuesday night, or what Amy might call "my Friday", (which simply means it's my last night working for the week) everything seemed to be going well. I'd had most of my patients for the last 2 nights thus giving me a clear sense of familiarity with both their medical conditions and their families. For the most part everyone could care for themselves to a certain extent except for my patient in room 199, who being 100 years old and struck down with pneumonia gave me reason enough not to care that he required a little more personal attention then my other 5 patients. Just a day earlier the doctor had addressed the patient's code status with the family, and they agreed to make the patient a chemical code only, meaning that if something were to happen to him we would only administer life saving medications in an attempt to save his life - no CPR, no intubation, no defibrillation.

He didn't look good. Which really it's strange that we say that because generally sick people don't look good, they look sick! Yet we nurses constantly say it to each other knowing that the other person knows what we're really trying to say. I suppose it's more or less code talk for - "This patient looks like they're about to die." Thus I wasn't surprised when The Patrolwoman called me into the room and I found the patient not breathing. As protocol goes, I called the code and waited for what seemed like a year before the code team arrived, pushed 1 round of Epi, and then called the time of death after getting all persnickety and stating the obvious that the patient wasn't "circulating" and therefore it was inevitable that he would die.

I felt so helpless. With a room full of docs and ICU nurses I felt this overwhelming need to present myself as professional, when really all I wanted to do was sit next to that bed and mourn for my patient.

What follows next is even worse then the death itself and really, truly calls for professionalism. You call the family, you call organ donor services, clean up the body, fill out mounds of paperwork, ask the family to sign the death certificate, call the funeral home, and then send the body away to eventually be buried. Somewhere in between all this chaos you manage to find time to cry some more and comfort the family. Then comes what I like to call the crash and burn. All this time you've been functioning solely on the adrenaline attained from the initial code 99. Now it's worn off and you more or less feel like vomiting and then going to bed for 2 or 3 days. Needless to say, the rest of my night went a little more smoothly.

At shift change that morning I was beginning to feel better, but not surprisingly, anxious to clock out and go home. As promised the day before, Oatmeal's protege stopped in for his usual morning chat. He asked how my night went, to which I explained that I had someone code and die, but otherwise things had smoothed themselves over and the night wasn't half bad, which really is quite optimistic coming from me, especially considering the circumstances! He quickly replied with something to the effect of "Oh, well he saw the beautiful and sexy nurse taking care of him and decided that he had seen all that he ever needed to see, and thus decided that now was as good a time as ever." Geez Louise! I haven't felt that embarrassed since Santa Claus told The Second what my mother used to call my situation when I was little. Urg!

Unfortunately as flattering as the statement was, I just couldn't take it at face value. I had to go and dissect, and question, and analyze the whole thing until I had made myself just plain mad. For whatever reason that single comment triggered a flood of memories that I really would've rather left buried and forgotten. I suddenly saw myself back in that little apartment on Eastview Terrace, with that certain someone, who within a second's time grabbed me, kissed me, and told me that I was "worth my weight in gold", which really isn't squat diddily, but at the time that didn't matter to me. I believed what he said. In all my silly foolishness I believed at that moment, that he loved me, only to come to find that he never "had feelings for me like that."

Yet even more pathetic then the fact that I remember that day so vividly is that it seems so unreal that it even happened at all. I suppose a little of that stems from the fact that the girl who thought she loved that man, is so very different from the woman writing this blog. I suppose too I just wish I could believe everyday that I was so supposedly wonderful.All that flattery is just way to deceitful for me. It's too much for me to handle. I got burned over those types of lines once before and I'd feel even more foolish if I let myself do it again.

I'm definitely more secure in who I am and I can actually look in the mirror and stare back at a reflection that ain't half bad. But when it comes to what men think of me, I'd rather not know, that way I don't have to wonder if it's the truth or just a bunch of sugarcoated B.S. I'm not saying that I don't enjoy compliments, because heaven knows they're really quite wonderful, especially when they come from someone you love. I guess really what it comes down to is being able to forget the past and not judging other people and their actions according to what someone else has done. There's nothing wrong with keeping your guard up. It's when it gets in the way of enjoying life's simple joys that you realize maybe you need to loosen up a bit.