My how the time flies when you're... ummm.... ...lazy?
I know that I'm no busier than any other person out there, so I don't really know how the rest of you can manage to keep up with posting pithy bits on a nearly daily basis. Anyway.... here's the past month in a nutshell.
The symphony chorale that I sing with had our fall concert Nov 9th and 11th. It went pretty well. It was a LOT of music. Wayne (our director) picked "Psalms" as the theme. I had missed 3 rehearsals through September and October (due to 'Beauty and the Beast' production) and felt it with this concert. I feel like I missed all of the picky-note-rehearsals for the last half of the concert. Oh well, I got through it all without an unscheduled solo anywhere and that's ALWAYS a good thing!!
Symphony Chorale's Christmas concert was this past weekend. (Benjamin Britten's "Ceremony of Carols" if you're interested.) We had 3 weeks to rehearse it. It was pretty awesome, if I do say so myself. Believe it or not, we even got a standing ovation. How weird is that??
This past weekend was also Playshop's production of "Escanaba in da Moonlight". As the business trustee for the organization, I'm in charge of the box office, so I worked it this time. I didn't get to see the show due to people showing up late but I hear it was good.
Now it's all about advent/Christmas music. The chorale has a small group of us (25 voices) that are singing at some local Christmas functions. Our first 'show' is tonight for the local library's Christmas party. Hopefully I've remembered everything I need for the show as I'm not planning on going home before it. We sing at an extended-care / retirement facility on Monday and at a local hospital for the volunteer's Christmas party on Thursday.
I hope that Santa's watching.
This Sunday night, our church is doing our annual Advent service and we've been working on that music like you wouldn't believe. None of it is THAT difficult, but none of it is easy either. Our director (again, Wayne) picks music where not only the key changes, but so does the timing. It's pretty sad when the easiest song to learn is the one we're singing in Nigerian. --I'm hoping that I have no surprise solos this coming Sunday night. At this point, it's a definite possibility.
Then come rehearsals for Christmas Eve. We have two weeks to learn Pergolisi's "Magnificat" along with the rest of the musical extravaganza that IS the midnight service on Christmas Eve.
I'll be SO happy when it's finally January.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Friday, November 9, 2007
Oh the drama.......
This past week has been tough.
Was I busy at work? --No more than usual.....
Was I struggling through another Hell Week with a play? --Nope.
Were Rich and I at each other's throats? --Never.
The inevitable has happened.
Pip and her (now long-distance) boyfriend had a fight and went "on a break". Egad. The tears, the frustration, the heartbreak of it all. I'm SOOOO glad that I'm not 18 anymore.
In the end, the "break" lasted all of four days. He decided that studying on the pre-med track, trying to keep those grades in the A/B categories, being on his own at school, working a part-time job, trying to hang out with friends, and maintaining a long-distance relationship was too much for him to do. Since what he's actually enjoyed learning throughout high school was government, he's switching his major and is hoping to (eventually) teach government/ civics/ history at the high school level. Or possibly run for office someday.
Quite frankly, I had told Pip earlier that he didn't seem like any doctor I had ever known, let alone a SURGEON. (He had been hoping to go into neurosurgery.) I'm not saying that he wasn't smart enough (he is), it's the drive he was missing. I give doctors and surgeons a LOT of credit. In order to serve their patients, the MD misses out on a lot of life along the way. It's a very hard life that they're called to. I wouldn't want that job, nor would I particularly like to be married to one. (Thankfully, I'm not!)
So anyway, now that the tension is soothed home is a better place to be. Pip and Jefe have learned valuable lessons in communication, commitment, and (last but certainly not least) real life.
Thus endeth this week's Afterschool Special, "An Autumn Breakup".
Was I busy at work? --No more than usual.....
Was I struggling through another Hell Week with a play? --Nope.
Were Rich and I at each other's throats? --Never.
The inevitable has happened.
Pip and her (now long-distance) boyfriend had a fight and went "on a break". Egad. The tears, the frustration, the heartbreak of it all. I'm SOOOO glad that I'm not 18 anymore.
In the end, the "break" lasted all of four days. He decided that studying on the pre-med track, trying to keep those grades in the A/B categories, being on his own at school, working a part-time job, trying to hang out with friends, and maintaining a long-distance relationship was too much for him to do. Since what he's actually enjoyed learning throughout high school was government, he's switching his major and is hoping to (eventually) teach government/ civics/ history at the high school level. Or possibly run for office someday.
Quite frankly, I had told Pip earlier that he didn't seem like any doctor I had ever known, let alone a SURGEON. (He had been hoping to go into neurosurgery.) I'm not saying that he wasn't smart enough (he is), it's the drive he was missing. I give doctors and surgeons a LOT of credit. In order to serve their patients, the MD misses out on a lot of life along the way. It's a very hard life that they're called to. I wouldn't want that job, nor would I particularly like to be married to one. (Thankfully, I'm not!)
So anyway, now that the tension is soothed home is a better place to be. Pip and Jefe have learned valuable lessons in communication, commitment, and (last but certainly not least) real life.
Thus endeth this week's Afterschool Special, "An Autumn Breakup".
Friday, November 2, 2007
The Shorn Q-Tip
I always feel kind of bad when I let slip the foibles my family members, so as part of the Parent Bloggers Network's current BlogBlast "Even Beauty Experts Make Mistakes" ( http://blog.parentbloggers.com), it's time to let off one of my own less than stellar moments.
Let me start by saying that I was a child of the 80's.
...I'm lying already.....
I was a TEENAGER of the 80's. ......now I'm not talking the mall-bang-Jon-Bon-Jovi-is-SO-mint late 80's. That era was for wussies. I'm talking the hardcore, punk/'New Romantic", we-just-bought-a-Wahl-and-aren't-afraid-to-use-it 1980's!! I suppose that I could write about the lovely lime-green Mohawk I strutted through the streets of Minneapolis with in my Mary Tyler Moore gone bad phase or my Robert Smith of the Cure black rat's nest that I ended the decade with, but I thought that I'd take y'all WAY back to the beginning of it all.
Grab a cup of cocoa, get settled in your chair, and prepare yourselves.......
My natural haircolor is a dark, dishwater blonde. It's not pretty. My personal opinion is that God gives people this haircolor when he runs out of ink in his special haircoloring markers. It's like a special dispensation to: "Ah, do what you can with it". So, by the time I was in eighth grade, I'd had enough. It wasn't light enough to be a pretty blonde and it had no sparkle like what brunettes have. I saved my babysitting money and in the summer of 1982 I went to Rexall Drugs and bought a box of "Deep Mahogany" Miss Clairol. While my parents were at work one Saturday morning, I transformed myself from drab to ......well..... kind of a 'dark grape' color.
Naturally, when my mom came home, she was furious. She took me to the salon to have the color stripped out of my hair. I remember that it was a long and smelly process and it left my hair remarkably straw-like afterwards. She forbade me from ever COLORING my hair again so long as I lived under her roof.
And I spent the summer babysitting to pay her back for the small fortune she had spent to turn my hair back to it's proper color.
*****If you think that this is the end of the story, just wait! It gets better!!*****
The salon used bleach back then to pull color out of hair. Now bleach doesn't just strip out artificially deposited color, mind you, it removes ALL color. It had taken them a couple of bleachings to pull out Miss Clairol (a tanacious woman, I tell you), then they had to put another color down to take the brassiness out. The color I left the salon with was NOT my natural. It was a deep golden with soft strawberry highlights. IT WAS NOT DRAB.
An awareness struck me. I was forbidden to PUT COLOR INTO my hair, by my mother's edict. However, TAKING THE COLOR OUT was an entirely different beast! And I looked gooood as a strawberry blonde!
So I proudly purchased my first bottle of Sun-In. From 1982-1983, I single handedly kept this company in business. Over the course of time (and 2-3 applications a week) my strawberry blonde went all the way to 'Nordic Blonde' without my mom ever remarking about it. Then, in the winter of 1983 I decided that I needed a perm.
***Cue axe-murderer music here***
The stylist asked what I'd used to bleach my hair and I told her of my great Plum experiment. Was it her fault that she just accepted what I'd said? No. I didn't hold any of what transpired against her. It was my own misguided attempt at fashion. God had given me a "Wild" card for my hair and I had overplayed it.......
She wrapped my hair on the perm rods and applied the solution. It stunk, but all perms stink. When the 20 minute processing time was over, she took me back to the sink to rinse it out. I heard a couple of "plinks" as some of the rods slipped out of my hair and I happened to open my eyes to see the stylist gasp as the color ran out of her face. She stopped the water and ran to get help.
When the older woman (the manager, I'm guessing) came over to the sink she shook her head in an "I've seen THIS before" way. She put a stopper in the drain and started filling the basin up with water. She questioned me about the chemicals on my head much like Torquemada of the Spanish Inquisition. Under that kind of stress, naturally I broke down like an AMC Gremlin and admitted what I'd been doing to myself. She then explained the damage I'd been doing to my hair and how the perm process does not react well to Sun-In. She then went on further to say that the "plinks" I'd been hearing had indeed been the rollers falling off of my head. However, MY HAIR WAS STILL WRAPPED AROUND THEM.
They did the best that they could, of course, but the Sun-In had broken down the proteins in my hair so badly that once the perm solution opened the cuticle, there was nothing left to the hairstrand. I lost all of the rollers on my head save for the three in the very front. I guess that that was God's way of showing a little mercy to the stupidity of (wo)man.
I left the salon with a bald head (perfect for a northern Iowa great plains winter!), bangs resembling an exploded Q-Tip, and a note to my mother stating that I hadn't gone into the salon asking for this particular outcome.
Oh yeah, I was grounded.
This BlogBlast is sponsored by Harper Collins and the new beauty guide by Nadine Haobsh, "Beauty Confidential". ( http://www.beautyconfidentialthebook.com).
What's YOUR beauty don't? Share it with the world, link the above sites, and you might be a winner!
Let me start by saying that I was a child of the 80's.
...I'm lying already.....
I was a TEENAGER of the 80's. ......now I'm not talking the mall-bang-Jon-Bon-Jovi-is-SO-mint late 80's. That era was for wussies. I'm talking the hardcore, punk/'New Romantic", we-just-bought-a-Wahl-and-aren't-afraid-to-use-it 1980's!! I suppose that I could write about the lovely lime-green Mohawk I strutted through the streets of Minneapolis with in my Mary Tyler Moore gone bad phase or my Robert Smith of the Cure black rat's nest that I ended the decade with, but I thought that I'd take y'all WAY back to the beginning of it all.
Grab a cup of cocoa, get settled in your chair, and prepare yourselves.......
My natural haircolor is a dark, dishwater blonde. It's not pretty. My personal opinion is that God gives people this haircolor when he runs out of ink in his special haircoloring markers. It's like a special dispensation to: "Ah, do what you can with it". So, by the time I was in eighth grade, I'd had enough. It wasn't light enough to be a pretty blonde and it had no sparkle like what brunettes have. I saved my babysitting money and in the summer of 1982 I went to Rexall Drugs and bought a box of "Deep Mahogany" Miss Clairol. While my parents were at work one Saturday morning, I transformed myself from drab to ......well..... kind of a 'dark grape' color.
Naturally, when my mom came home, she was furious. She took me to the salon to have the color stripped out of my hair. I remember that it was a long and smelly process and it left my hair remarkably straw-like afterwards. She forbade me from ever COLORING my hair again so long as I lived under her roof.
And I spent the summer babysitting to pay her back for the small fortune she had spent to turn my hair back to it's proper color.
*****If you think that this is the end of the story, just wait! It gets better!!*****
The salon used bleach back then to pull color out of hair. Now bleach doesn't just strip out artificially deposited color, mind you, it removes ALL color. It had taken them a couple of bleachings to pull out Miss Clairol (a tanacious woman, I tell you), then they had to put another color down to take the brassiness out. The color I left the salon with was NOT my natural. It was a deep golden with soft strawberry highlights. IT WAS NOT DRAB.
An awareness struck me. I was forbidden to PUT COLOR INTO my hair, by my mother's edict. However, TAKING THE COLOR OUT was an entirely different beast! And I looked gooood as a strawberry blonde!
So I proudly purchased my first bottle of Sun-In. From 1982-1983, I single handedly kept this company in business. Over the course of time (and 2-3 applications a week) my strawberry blonde went all the way to 'Nordic Blonde' without my mom ever remarking about it. Then, in the winter of 1983 I decided that I needed a perm.
***Cue axe-murderer music here***
The stylist asked what I'd used to bleach my hair and I told her of my great Plum experiment. Was it her fault that she just accepted what I'd said? No. I didn't hold any of what transpired against her. It was my own misguided attempt at fashion. God had given me a "Wild" card for my hair and I had overplayed it.......
She wrapped my hair on the perm rods and applied the solution. It stunk, but all perms stink. When the 20 minute processing time was over, she took me back to the sink to rinse it out. I heard a couple of "plinks" as some of the rods slipped out of my hair and I happened to open my eyes to see the stylist gasp as the color ran out of her face. She stopped the water and ran to get help.
When the older woman (the manager, I'm guessing) came over to the sink she shook her head in an "I've seen THIS before" way. She put a stopper in the drain and started filling the basin up with water. She questioned me about the chemicals on my head much like Torquemada of the Spanish Inquisition. Under that kind of stress, naturally I broke down like an AMC Gremlin and admitted what I'd been doing to myself. She then explained the damage I'd been doing to my hair and how the perm process does not react well to Sun-In. She then went on further to say that the "plinks" I'd been hearing had indeed been the rollers falling off of my head. However, MY HAIR WAS STILL WRAPPED AROUND THEM.
They did the best that they could, of course, but the Sun-In had broken down the proteins in my hair so badly that once the perm solution opened the cuticle, there was nothing left to the hairstrand. I lost all of the rollers on my head save for the three in the very front. I guess that that was God's way of showing a little mercy to the stupidity of (wo)man.
I left the salon with a bald head (perfect for a northern Iowa great plains winter!), bangs resembling an exploded Q-Tip, and a note to my mother stating that I hadn't gone into the salon asking for this particular outcome.
Oh yeah, I was grounded.
This BlogBlast is sponsored by Harper Collins and the new beauty guide by Nadine Haobsh, "Beauty Confidential". ( http://www.beautyconfidentialthebook.com).
What's YOUR beauty don't? Share it with the world, link the above sites, and you might be a winner!
Friday, September 28, 2007
From the Depths of Hell Week
Ah, mighty Hell Week...... How you make me want to throw in the towel and never go onstage again.....
I will not let you win.
Although I will whine like a toddler that you are kicking my ass this week.........
Since only two or three people out there ever read my blog (and I have a pretty good idea who you are), you know what I'm talking about. We've had rehearsals for the past two weeks from 6pm to 11pm Monday thru Friday. -Well except for last night and tonight. The call is at 5:30 (until 11pm).
Last weekend our town had a little 'founder's festival' kind of thing, so we had a float in the (three block) parade and a booth on the street. --I was in the booth from noon until 5 on Saturday. I did the parade the past two years and it's not worth my losing my Saturday morning to. Sunday, we had a tea with Belle and the enchanted objects from the castle. I left church early (hoping that God would understand) so that I could sell tickets to the show from noon until 5-ish.
In my spare time, I've been calling around for ushers and soliciting ad's from local businesses for the program.
Oh, and did I mention that our church had a Mass for Breast Cancer victims and caregivers this past Tuesday? I also sang for that (I came to play practice late).
And I managed to work a 42-hour week this week.
I hate to say this, but I'm too old for this shit. Sure, I used to work a 45-hour work week (as a hairstylist/salon manager, no less) and spend my evenings (every night-I kid you not) in bars and nightclubs --never getting home until 3am at the earliest-- but how the hell did I do it?
Dang it! I NEVER should have given up drinking!!
I will not let you win.
Although I will whine like a toddler that you are kicking my ass this week.........
Since only two or three people out there ever read my blog (and I have a pretty good idea who you are), you know what I'm talking about. We've had rehearsals for the past two weeks from 6pm to 11pm Monday thru Friday. -Well except for last night and tonight. The call is at 5:30 (until 11pm).
Last weekend our town had a little 'founder's festival' kind of thing, so we had a float in the (three block) parade and a booth on the street. --I was in the booth from noon until 5 on Saturday. I did the parade the past two years and it's not worth my losing my Saturday morning to. Sunday, we had a tea with Belle and the enchanted objects from the castle. I left church early (hoping that God would understand) so that I could sell tickets to the show from noon until 5-ish.
In my spare time, I've been calling around for ushers and soliciting ad's from local businesses for the program.
Oh, and did I mention that our church had a Mass for Breast Cancer victims and caregivers this past Tuesday? I also sang for that (I came to play practice late).
And I managed to work a 42-hour week this week.
I hate to say this, but I'm too old for this shit. Sure, I used to work a 45-hour work week (as a hairstylist/salon manager, no less) and spend my evenings (every night-I kid you not) in bars and nightclubs --never getting home until 3am at the earliest-- but how the hell did I do it?
Dang it! I NEVER should have given up drinking!!
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Settling.....
I swear to God that's the story of my life. Settling. I want the best, but I settle for what I can afford.
Case in point....
The home computer died the other month. Hubbie and I decided that we were tired of Microsoft and wanted to get an operating system that wasn't so retarded. We wanted a Mac. We saved our money, we hoped, we dreamed.....
Then the water pump went out on the old car (Sherwood). Since Pip will need this to get to and from school (occasionally -- sometimes Hubbie needs it to drive into work), we needed to get it fixed. (($457))
Followed by the State of Ohio letting us know that we'd figured our taxes wrong and needed to cut them a check by the 20th for $89.
There went everything we'd saved for the new computer.
So we settled. We went to Best Buy and bought the cheapest thing we could find. I'm sure that the technology in it is long outdated, but at least it has that new, "Vista" operating system.
In case you're curious -- it sucks.
But now I can pay my bills and balance my checkbook at home again. I suppose that that's a plus.
I don't mean to sound whiny or spoiled. We have a roof over our heads, we eat 3 meals a day (not provided by the government), and from time to time we are actually able to go out and have a little fun. I'm just getting SO friggin' tired of having to settle for second best! (...or third... or that stupid Vista thing...)
We're back to saving for the Mac again, but it's a lot harder when Pip is with us. Especially since the Senior Portrait Industry is just NOT set up for shared children. (Seriously! It's cheaper for each household to buy their own package than it is to split a larger one since they don't allow you to substitute another friggin' 8 x 10 for a useless set of wallets!)
I don't suppose that I could get Pip to settle for a nice picture taken with my cell phone?
Case in point....
The home computer died the other month. Hubbie and I decided that we were tired of Microsoft and wanted to get an operating system that wasn't so retarded. We wanted a Mac. We saved our money, we hoped, we dreamed.....
Then the water pump went out on the old car (Sherwood). Since Pip will need this to get to and from school (occasionally -- sometimes Hubbie needs it to drive into work), we needed to get it fixed. (($457))
Followed by the State of Ohio letting us know that we'd figured our taxes wrong and needed to cut them a check by the 20th for $89.
There went everything we'd saved for the new computer.
So we settled. We went to Best Buy and bought the cheapest thing we could find. I'm sure that the technology in it is long outdated, but at least it has that new, "Vista" operating system.
In case you're curious -- it sucks.
But now I can pay my bills and balance my checkbook at home again. I suppose that that's a plus.
I don't mean to sound whiny or spoiled. We have a roof over our heads, we eat 3 meals a day (not provided by the government), and from time to time we are actually able to go out and have a little fun. I'm just getting SO friggin' tired of having to settle for second best! (...or third... or that stupid Vista thing...)
We're back to saving for the Mac again, but it's a lot harder when Pip is with us. Especially since the Senior Portrait Industry is just NOT set up for shared children. (Seriously! It's cheaper for each household to buy their own package than it is to split a larger one since they don't allow you to substitute another friggin' 8 x 10 for a useless set of wallets!)
I don't suppose that I could get Pip to settle for a nice picture taken with my cell phone?
Friday, August 3, 2007
I Have the Best Friend -- EVER!!
So I got home from work last night and brought in the mail.
There was a padded manilla envelope shoved into the mailbox, but I didn't think much of it. My husband is CONSTANTLY buying books and stuff online and I'm generally bringing one or two of these in a week anyway.
I put it on the counter where he could find it when he got home and sorted through the rest of the junk mail, bills, and college info (Pip gets TONS of "Look at us!" college shit weekly). When I turned back to put the bills in our inbox, I noticed the writing on the package looked suspiciously like Kimba's writing. I looked closer and it was! The envelope was for me!
I tore into the package like Rosie O'Donnell tearing into a package of Ring-Dings and there it was-- an iPod Shuffle. I read the note enclosed. Since she already had a Nano and I was still saving my duckets to buy one of my own, she sent me the Shuffle!
But wait!! It gets better!!!
She charged it and put some songs on it for me!!!!
Thank You Kimba!!!!!! You're the best friend EVER!!!
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Be Our Guest!
I can hardly believe it.
Somehow I made it into the local community theater's next production, "Beauty and the Beast". This surprises the hell out of me because I didn't really prepare well for auditions. --I suppose that's what happens when you work full time, are involved with outside the home activities, and don't want to keep your husband up past midnight as you hammer away at music (our apartment is tiny, so even if you're in the next room, you're only 12 feet away from each other). I almost didn't waste the director's time, but changed my mind in the 9th hour.
No, not the 11th hour. That would have been rude.
I'm just in the chorus, but I kind of like it that way. You get more stage-time.
Just thought I'd share...
Somehow I made it into the local community theater's next production, "Beauty and the Beast". This surprises the hell out of me because I didn't really prepare well for auditions. --I suppose that's what happens when you work full time, are involved with outside the home activities, and don't want to keep your husband up past midnight as you hammer away at music (our apartment is tiny, so even if you're in the next room, you're only 12 feet away from each other). I almost didn't waste the director's time, but changed my mind in the 9th hour.
No, not the 11th hour. That would have been rude.
I'm just in the chorus, but I kind of like it that way. You get more stage-time.
Just thought I'd share...
Thursday, July 26, 2007
The Secret's Out
I am the only full-time employee in my office. That's right, the only one here 8 hours a day, five days a week.
What that means in the medical office community is that I have to be able to learn (or at least sound intelligent about) a lot of various stuff.
Some of it is easy. Any one of us can handle routine med refills. I can give you an excuse slip for work. I can set you up an appointment to see a doctor and explain the basics of the nuclear stress test, echocardiogram, and heart catheterization. I handle all med records (scanning in, indexing, and entering in the computer --hooray for Electronic Health Records!!) in my office.
Some of it is a little more difficult. Reading doctor's handwriting, getting prior authorization from insurance companies (medical and prescription) for testing and meds, determining who gets an office visit and who is directed to the E/R for their chest pain, knowing which ICD-9 code will allow what kind of visit/lab/medication, and which ekg strips faxed from the event monitoring company need a doctor's review ASAP and which ones are safe to wait for my RN to address when she comes in.
I have had to learn what exactly is going on during the stress test and how the chemicals affect patients simply because they ask me questions and it seems kind of foolish to say, "I don't know, I just answer phones and collect copays. --Do you have that $20 with you or would you like me to bill you for it?"
I learned how to hook patients up to a holter monitor because when the primary docs from downstairs call for one it seems ridiculous to tell them that no one here can do it. --Not to mention that it's bad for business. So I learned to hook up and download holter monitors.
I'm not complaining. I'd rather be busy at work than waiting around trying to make my mental powers force the clock hands to move.
The one thing I've learned in life is that if you act like you know what you're doing, the general public will assume that you do.
So then today I get a call from our home office. It seems that the images from the nuclear stress tests that we did on Tuesday didn't load onto the server like they should have and would it be possible for me to re-load them and send them over to be viewed?
Apparently I give the impression that I'm secretly a Certified Nuclear Medicine Technologist.
Perhaps I should tone down the confidence a little, eh??
What that means in the medical office community is that I have to be able to learn (or at least sound intelligent about) a lot of various stuff.
Some of it is easy. Any one of us can handle routine med refills. I can give you an excuse slip for work. I can set you up an appointment to see a doctor and explain the basics of the nuclear stress test, echocardiogram, and heart catheterization. I handle all med records (scanning in, indexing, and entering in the computer --hooray for Electronic Health Records!!) in my office.
Some of it is a little more difficult. Reading doctor's handwriting, getting prior authorization from insurance companies (medical and prescription) for testing and meds, determining who gets an office visit and who is directed to the E/R for their chest pain, knowing which ICD-9 code will allow what kind of visit/lab/medication, and which ekg strips faxed from the event monitoring company need a doctor's review ASAP and which ones are safe to wait for my RN to address when she comes in.
I have had to learn what exactly is going on during the stress test and how the chemicals affect patients simply because they ask me questions and it seems kind of foolish to say, "I don't know, I just answer phones and collect copays. --Do you have that $20 with you or would you like me to bill you for it?"
I learned how to hook patients up to a holter monitor because when the primary docs from downstairs call for one it seems ridiculous to tell them that no one here can do it. --Not to mention that it's bad for business. So I learned to hook up and download holter monitors.
I'm not complaining. I'd rather be busy at work than waiting around trying to make my mental powers force the clock hands to move.
The one thing I've learned in life is that if you act like you know what you're doing, the general public will assume that you do.
So then today I get a call from our home office. It seems that the images from the nuclear stress tests that we did on Tuesday didn't load onto the server like they should have and would it be possible for me to re-load them and send them over to be viewed?
Apparently I give the impression that I'm secretly a Certified Nuclear Medicine Technologist.
Perhaps I should tone down the confidence a little, eh??
Friday, July 20, 2007
Just to Catch Everyone Up...
I suppose that I should start this by mentioning that our home computer's motherboard blew up the other week and I'm limited to when I can update this site. Somehow "The Man" just doesn't feel that blogging is an appropriate way to spend company time. I'd like to point out to "The Man" that as blogging is life and I feel like I sacrifice enough of my life to the workweek, it seems only logical that blog-time should include work time, but I value my paycheck too much to split hairs with the guy who signs them.
So, anyway...
The show went as well as it could, really. It's the sappiest Rodgers and Hammerstein out there! I mean with lyrics like: "Our state fair is the best state fair in our state" you can't expect the bar raised THAT high, now can you? Naturally, I totally kicked ass as a drunk pickles and mincemeat judge. Who'd have thunk that, eh?? The best thing about small community theater is the people you work with, and these people were some of the best. No one was too important to help schlep set pieces and/or props on and off the stage or to help with backstage costume changes.
I got to hang out with the "young adult" portion of the cast and found out that while I really enjoy hanging out with them, they tend to talk about themselves a lot. I guess that it's to be expected as they're still in college or have just graduated and don't know much else. I wanted to point out to them that they didn't even REALLY know themselves at this point in their lives, but it's such better lesson when you learn it yourself!
Besides, then I would have had to start hanging out with the 'parents'. Those people are no fun. (Just kidding- Inge, Tom, and Karen!!)
This weekend is auditions for "Beauty and the Beast". Yeah, I'm working on an audition piece in my spare time even though I don't really think that there's a part in it for me. There aren't any drunks -although I was told that there's a feather duster who's a little coquettish. (I only ever get cast as floozies and drunks...) I just can't picture myself in feathers.....
Well, time to get back to "The Man's" work.
Damn The Man!
So, anyway...
The show went as well as it could, really. It's the sappiest Rodgers and Hammerstein out there! I mean with lyrics like: "Our state fair is the best state fair in our state" you can't expect the bar raised THAT high, now can you? Naturally, I totally kicked ass as a drunk pickles and mincemeat judge. Who'd have thunk that, eh?? The best thing about small community theater is the people you work with, and these people were some of the best. No one was too important to help schlep set pieces and/or props on and off the stage or to help with backstage costume changes.
I got to hang out with the "young adult" portion of the cast and found out that while I really enjoy hanging out with them, they tend to talk about themselves a lot. I guess that it's to be expected as they're still in college or have just graduated and don't know much else. I wanted to point out to them that they didn't even REALLY know themselves at this point in their lives, but it's such better lesson when you learn it yourself!
Besides, then I would have had to start hanging out with the 'parents'. Those people are no fun. (Just kidding- Inge, Tom, and Karen!!)
This weekend is auditions for "Beauty and the Beast". Yeah, I'm working on an audition piece in my spare time even though I don't really think that there's a part in it for me. There aren't any drunks -although I was told that there's a feather duster who's a little coquettish. (I only ever get cast as floozies and drunks...) I just can't picture myself in feathers.....
Well, time to get back to "The Man's" work.
Damn The Man!
Thursday, July 12, 2007
24 Hours from Now
24 hours from now (if everything goes right and the cats aren't being too needy) I will be waking up and leisurely getting into the shower.
I'm actually taking a day off for the sake of taking time off.
This goes against EVERYTHING my parents EVER taught me about being a responsible, working adult. I know that they meant well and that they felt it was important to impress upon me their proud, German work ethic, but let me tell you --all work and no play makes Jill a friggin' bitch to hang around!
It's my own dang fault, I guess.
I get paid vacation and sick time, but I'm always scared to use it. I mean, what if I'm in a horrible accident and need to take 3 weeks off of work? Sure, short-term disability will kick in after 2 weeks, but what if I use up all of my paid time off on something frivolous first? I can't go two weeks without a paycheck.
So I go to work every day, get my 40 hours + every week and slowly my patience and sanity ebb away....
...but not this week!
Which is a good thing because opening night for the play I'm in is also tomorrow. (See how the day off and my personal life cross there?)
I mean, I need to rest up for the cast parties.
Priorities, people!
I'm actually taking a day off for the sake of taking time off.
This goes against EVERYTHING my parents EVER taught me about being a responsible, working adult. I know that they meant well and that they felt it was important to impress upon me their proud, German work ethic, but let me tell you --all work and no play makes Jill a friggin' bitch to hang around!
It's my own dang fault, I guess.
I get paid vacation and sick time, but I'm always scared to use it. I mean, what if I'm in a horrible accident and need to take 3 weeks off of work? Sure, short-term disability will kick in after 2 weeks, but what if I use up all of my paid time off on something frivolous first? I can't go two weeks without a paycheck.
So I go to work every day, get my 40 hours + every week and slowly my patience and sanity ebb away....
...but not this week!
Which is a good thing because opening night for the play I'm in is also tomorrow. (See how the day off and my personal life cross there?)
I mean, I need to rest up for the cast parties.
Priorities, people!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Jumping Off the Cliff of Life
I kid you not.....
(Not so) little old man in wheelchair is in the office today for his stress test. Due to the fact that he is not able to walk the treadmill, he has had a chemically-induced stress test. So he hasn't had anything to eat since 7am. Now that his "stress" portion is over, he can eat something.
Daughter: "So, Dad, what would you like for lunch?"
Little Old Man: "Oh... can you run over to McDonalds and get me a double cheeseburger and fries?"
I just want to point out that it takes friggin' balls of pure, unadulterated steel to order this kind of lunch in a cardiology office. It's kind of like setting up the grand altar of Satan in the nave of the Catholic church, don't you think?
I hope he's not too surprized when his results come back and show that he needs a heart cath.
PS--Because I'm THAT good of a front office person, I explain to the patients when they schedule that they'll have a 6 hour fast prior to their test and that generally it takes 2-3 hours to complete. I further explain that should this seem like too long to go without eating, they may bring a snack to tide them over. Usually, people bring peanut butter/crackers.
I think that they're afraid of the lightning bolt that will hit them should they think of bringing anything else.
(Not so) little old man in wheelchair is in the office today for his stress test. Due to the fact that he is not able to walk the treadmill, he has had a chemically-induced stress test. So he hasn't had anything to eat since 7am. Now that his "stress" portion is over, he can eat something.
Daughter: "So, Dad, what would you like for lunch?"
Little Old Man: "Oh... can you run over to McDonalds and get me a double cheeseburger and fries?"
I just want to point out that it takes friggin' balls of pure, unadulterated steel to order this kind of lunch in a cardiology office. It's kind of like setting up the grand altar of Satan in the nave of the Catholic church, don't you think?
I hope he's not too surprized when his results come back and show that he needs a heart cath.
PS--Because I'm THAT good of a front office person, I explain to the patients when they schedule that they'll have a 6 hour fast prior to their test and that generally it takes 2-3 hours to complete. I further explain that should this seem like too long to go without eating, they may bring a snack to tide them over. Usually, people bring peanut butter/crackers.
I think that they're afraid of the lightning bolt that will hit them should they think of bringing anything else.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
The Summer is Set to Begin!
Ahhhh......
That time of year again.
The blessed time of year when we are temporarily childless. That glorious time of year when I can shower with the doors to the bathroom open, start a load of laundry at 10pm (the washer/dryer are located in a second closet in her bedroom), and eat nothing but salads for dinner!
Of course, we have to get through this week first.
I had play practice on Sunday afterooon, rehearsal for a theater program Sunday night, a meeting for the chorale I perform in last night, play practice tonight, final dress rehearsal for the program tomorrow night, Pip's dance recical on Thursday night, Friday night is the program I've been rehearsing for, and Saturday is a trip to the chiropractor, and a writer's forum I've been invited to.
Also-- Pip flies out on Saturday.
Her week goes like this: Dance recital practice this past Saturday afternoon, laundry/packing Sunday, dance rehearsal last night, date with boyfriend tonight, dress rehearsal for dance recital tomorrow night, dance recital Thursday night, date with Daddy Friday afternoon, date with boyfriend Friday night, flying to her mother's house on Saturday.
And from there, the summer will whiz on by and I'll be blogging that her return is just around the corner and I haven't even set up her senior pictures yet.
My Oma always told me that the reason that old people drive so slowly is that as you age, time speeds up and it's physically impossible to drive faster than 25mph when your life is flashing before your eyes.
I'm beginning to believe her.
That time of year again.
The blessed time of year when we are temporarily childless. That glorious time of year when I can shower with the doors to the bathroom open, start a load of laundry at 10pm (the washer/dryer are located in a second closet in her bedroom), and eat nothing but salads for dinner!
Of course, we have to get through this week first.
I had play practice on Sunday afterooon, rehearsal for a theater program Sunday night, a meeting for the chorale I perform in last night, play practice tonight, final dress rehearsal for the program tomorrow night, Pip's dance recical on Thursday night, Friday night is the program I've been rehearsing for, and Saturday is a trip to the chiropractor, and a writer's forum I've been invited to.
Also-- Pip flies out on Saturday.
Her week goes like this: Dance recital practice this past Saturday afternoon, laundry/packing Sunday, dance rehearsal last night, date with boyfriend tonight, dress rehearsal for dance recital tomorrow night, dance recital Thursday night, date with Daddy Friday afternoon, date with boyfriend Friday night, flying to her mother's house on Saturday.
And from there, the summer will whiz on by and I'll be blogging that her return is just around the corner and I haven't even set up her senior pictures yet.
My Oma always told me that the reason that old people drive so slowly is that as you age, time speeds up and it's physically impossible to drive faster than 25mph when your life is flashing before your eyes.
I'm beginning to believe her.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
A Birthday SpotBot
So, due to the fact that my husband has to work the evening of my birthday and Pip has a dance rehearsal, we celebrated the glorious date of my birth on Monday night instead of Thursday night. Dinner was pretty good and damn expensive.
We got home and they made me unwrap my birthday presents. My hubby finally listened to me and he got me a SpotBot! I have been looking at these since they came on the market, to be honest with you.
Generally he has difficulty in purchasing things like this for Christmas and my birthday, as he feels that they don't convey the correct sentiment. I say, "Who the hell cares?". He bitched and moaned when I said that I'd really like a new ironing board and refused to buy me one (until I came back from Meijer with the second new iron in four months since the ironing board kept tipping over and breaking the iron). He refused to get me the deviled-egg holders I wanted another year. His mom (probably thinking that I was a nutjob) got me two for my birthday one year. Now I can take up to 36 deviled eggs to a potluck without getting friggin' deviled egg all over the car! (Always an interesting smell on day 1, imagine baked-in-the-car deviled egg going on day 7.)
Thanks to the SpotBot, I can clean that mess, too!
Since he doesn't think that domestic items are gift worthy, I also got the entire "Young Ones" series on DVD. ((For those of you born after 1980, "The Young Ones" was a British comedy series that used to air on MTV. It was about a group of misfit university students in London and it was absolutely hysterical.))
We got home and they made me unwrap my birthday presents. My hubby finally listened to me and he got me a SpotBot! I have been looking at these since they came on the market, to be honest with you.
Generally he has difficulty in purchasing things like this for Christmas and my birthday, as he feels that they don't convey the correct sentiment. I say, "Who the hell cares?". He bitched and moaned when I said that I'd really like a new ironing board and refused to buy me one (until I came back from Meijer with the second new iron in four months since the ironing board kept tipping over and breaking the iron). He refused to get me the deviled-egg holders I wanted another year. His mom (probably thinking that I was a nutjob) got me two for my birthday one year. Now I can take up to 36 deviled eggs to a potluck without getting friggin' deviled egg all over the car! (Always an interesting smell on day 1, imagine baked-in-the-car deviled egg going on day 7.)
Thanks to the SpotBot, I can clean that mess, too!
Since he doesn't think that domestic items are gift worthy, I also got the entire "Young Ones" series on DVD. ((For those of you born after 1980, "The Young Ones" was a British comedy series that used to air on MTV. It was about a group of misfit university students in London and it was absolutely hysterical.))
Friday, June 1, 2007
You know you need a date with your husband/partner when...
You know you need a date (as in a night out) with your husband/partner when your current definition of "date" is sitting at the computer deciding who gets to pay which monthly bill.
I'm the step-parent of a teenage daughter (Pip) from my husband's first marriage (she resides with us), we've been married for two months shy of 12 years, and I honestly can't remember when we last had a date.
My husband had a bit of a life change three years ago. He quit his old job (Thank you God!) and got a new, much less paying career. He's blissfully happy with his new position, but it pays half of what the old one did. To help make ends meet, he's picked up a part-time job. I've told him that at any point he can quit the part time gig, but so far he keeps plugging away at both. This leaves us precious time to actually GO somewhere as when he's not at one job, he's at the other.
He's free to take time off from the part-time job, but I feel that it's more important for him to take time off to attend his daughter's choir concert, her school play, and her dance recitals than to go out on a date with me I don't complain. After all, you only have the first 18 years of your child's life to leave a good, parental impression.
The 'spark' is still there for us, it's just that we don't often have the time or energy to fan it into flames--if you know what I mean. Things were easier when Pip was 7 years old and went to bed at 8:30pm. Mommy-Daddy time (that blissful time of day when parents can actually talk to one another without keeping things Y7 in ratings) could start at 9:00. Now it's 10:30 for bedtime (although I'm pretty sure that at 10:30, the lights go out and the IPod goes on...), news at 11, falling asleep on the sofa promptly at 11:20pm. If we need an alert, adult conversation our best bet is either to call one another at work or send an email.
From time to time I think back on our dating days. He--a dashing, soccer-playing part-time minister in Louisville, KY and I--a fun-loving, fashionable hairstylist in Canton (a suburb of Detroit), MI. We got to know each other through friends, the phone lines, and snail mail. (Al Gore hadn't 'invented' the Internet yet.) We would get together every other weekend, alternating who drove to meet whom. It didn't take long to realize that we'd each met our soul mate in the other. We made long-distance dating work then, we'll make phone calls and emails work now!
Besides, when I look into his eyes, I still see the young soccer player and I know that he still sees the fashionable hairstylist.
Not to mention that college starts in Fall of 2008. I know that it's a long time to go before we can reinstate date night, but my hubby's worth it!
This post is part of a Blog Blast sponsored by E-Harmony Marriage, a new online alternative to marriage counseling (cool, right?) and Parent Bloggers Network. If you'd like a chance to win a $100 Amex Gift Card for a date out with your spouse/partner plus $100 cash for a babysitter, then write your own post "You Know You Need a Date With Your Partner When...." anytime today, send the link to parentbloggers@gmail.com, and they will pick a winner at random. Click here for more info!
I'm the step-parent of a teenage daughter (Pip) from my husband's first marriage (she resides with us), we've been married for two months shy of 12 years, and I honestly can't remember when we last had a date.
My husband had a bit of a life change three years ago. He quit his old job (Thank you God!) and got a new, much less paying career. He's blissfully happy with his new position, but it pays half of what the old one did. To help make ends meet, he's picked up a part-time job. I've told him that at any point he can quit the part time gig, but so far he keeps plugging away at both. This leaves us precious time to actually GO somewhere as when he's not at one job, he's at the other.
He's free to take time off from the part-time job, but I feel that it's more important for him to take time off to attend his daughter's choir concert, her school play, and her dance recitals than to go out on a date with me I don't complain. After all, you only have the first 18 years of your child's life to leave a good, parental impression.
The 'spark' is still there for us, it's just that we don't often have the time or energy to fan it into flames--if you know what I mean. Things were easier when Pip was 7 years old and went to bed at 8:30pm. Mommy-Daddy time (that blissful time of day when parents can actually talk to one another without keeping things Y7 in ratings) could start at 9:00. Now it's 10:30 for bedtime (although I'm pretty sure that at 10:30, the lights go out and the IPod goes on...), news at 11, falling asleep on the sofa promptly at 11:20pm. If we need an alert, adult conversation our best bet is either to call one another at work or send an email.
From time to time I think back on our dating days. He--a dashing, soccer-playing part-time minister in Louisville, KY and I--a fun-loving, fashionable hairstylist in Canton (a suburb of Detroit), MI. We got to know each other through friends, the phone lines, and snail mail. (Al Gore hadn't 'invented' the Internet yet.) We would get together every other weekend, alternating who drove to meet whom. It didn't take long to realize that we'd each met our soul mate in the other. We made long-distance dating work then, we'll make phone calls and emails work now!
Besides, when I look into his eyes, I still see the young soccer player and I know that he still sees the fashionable hairstylist.
Not to mention that college starts in Fall of 2008. I know that it's a long time to go before we can reinstate date night, but my hubby's worth it!
This post is part of a Blog Blast sponsored by E-Harmony Marriage, a new online alternative to marriage counseling (cool, right?) and Parent Bloggers Network. If you'd like a chance to win a $100 Amex Gift Card for a date out with your spouse/partner plus $100 cash for a babysitter, then write your own post "You Know You Need a Date With Your Partner When...." anytime today, send the link to parentbloggers@gmail.com, and they will pick a winner at random. Click here for more info!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
A Meme from Kimba
I just HAD to check Kimba's blog didn't I?
As with her instructions, if you stumble across this one, consider yourself tagged!!
What were you doing 10 years ago?
Ten years ago I was relatively newly married and living in hell. Ooops!! Sorry, I meant Northwest Indiana. I was soon to be starting one of my favorite jobs working with some of my favorite people, EVER! (Salon manager in a mall.)
What were you doing 1 year ago?
The same thing I'm doing now, just downtown at our office at the hospital. Where I ended up getting 3 hours of overtime a week, and not being compensated for it. I like out here in the country club a helluva lot better!
Five snacks you enjoy
1. The friggin' fried potato in any/all of it's many forms. --More's the pity...
2. Tortilla chips & hot-ass salsa
3. baby cut carrots
4. celery
5. popcorn
Five songs that you know all the lyrics to
1. I do a lot of musical theater, so name something..... If I've done the show, I know the song!
2. I also sing with a local symphony chorale. There's a lot of classical stuff that I know the words to (and much of it is in Latin, German, and French.)
3. I sing in our church choir, so I also know a heck of a lot of hymns.
4. Any Depeche Mode song!
5. If it came out of the early-mid 80's I know it.
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire
1. Pay off ALL of our debt.
2. Put money aside for Pip's college. (Which will start in the fall of 2008. If you're reading this, God, PLEASE let us buy that winning lottery ticket soon!!)
3. Maybe buy a house... I just don't know where...
4. Go to college. (On the "Better Late than Never" Scholarship.)
5. Buy Kimba a car so she and her family can visit us!
Five bad habits
1. Spending vs saving.
2. Not exercising enough
3. Incessant need to check emails & favourite blogs daily
4. Sleeping on my stomach. (I'm desperately trying to stop this, but it's easily the hardest thing I've ever done.)
5. Forgetting my daily antihistamine and B-6 supplements.
Five things you like doing
1. Hanging out with friends
2. Sex
3. Travelling
4. Reading a good book
5. Crocheting (When I said that I was turning into my mother, I meant it!!)
Five things you would never wear again
1. A size 7 in anything but a shoe.
2. Patent leather shoes
3. Daisy Duke's
4. chokers or scarves around my neck
5. blue eyeshadow
Five favorite toys
1. Board games
2. Card games
3. Boys
4. the computer
5. my art set
As with her instructions, if you stumble across this one, consider yourself tagged!!
What were you doing 10 years ago?
Ten years ago I was relatively newly married and living in hell. Ooops!! Sorry, I meant Northwest Indiana. I was soon to be starting one of my favorite jobs working with some of my favorite people, EVER! (Salon manager in a mall.)
What were you doing 1 year ago?
The same thing I'm doing now, just downtown at our office at the hospital. Where I ended up getting 3 hours of overtime a week, and not being compensated for it. I like out here in the country club a helluva lot better!
Five snacks you enjoy
1. The friggin' fried potato in any/all of it's many forms. --More's the pity...
2. Tortilla chips & hot-ass salsa
3. baby cut carrots
4. celery
5. popcorn
Five songs that you know all the lyrics to
1. I do a lot of musical theater, so name something..... If I've done the show, I know the song!
2. I also sing with a local symphony chorale. There's a lot of classical stuff that I know the words to (and much of it is in Latin, German, and French.)
3. I sing in our church choir, so I also know a heck of a lot of hymns.
4. Any Depeche Mode song!
5. If it came out of the early-mid 80's I know it.
Five things you would do if you were a millionaire
1. Pay off ALL of our debt.
2. Put money aside for Pip's college. (Which will start in the fall of 2008. If you're reading this, God, PLEASE let us buy that winning lottery ticket soon!!)
3. Maybe buy a house... I just don't know where...
4. Go to college. (On the "Better Late than Never" Scholarship.)
5. Buy Kimba a car so she and her family can visit us!
Five bad habits
1. Spending vs saving.
2. Not exercising enough
3. Incessant need to check emails & favourite blogs daily
4. Sleeping on my stomach. (I'm desperately trying to stop this, but it's easily the hardest thing I've ever done.)
5. Forgetting my daily antihistamine and B-6 supplements.
Five things you like doing
1. Hanging out with friends
2. Sex
3. Travelling
4. Reading a good book
5. Crocheting (When I said that I was turning into my mother, I meant it!!)
Five things you would never wear again
1. A size 7 in anything but a shoe.
2. Patent leather shoes
3. Daisy Duke's
4. chokers or scarves around my neck
5. blue eyeshadow
Five favorite toys
1. Board games
2. Card games
3. Boys
4. the computer
5. my art set
Friday, May 25, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Alas, Poor Poo-Cat, I Knew Thee Well...
It saddens me greatly to have to report that our house has suffered a very personal loss.
Our dear, old Poo Cat has passed away.
As near as we can guess, Poo (originally named Patience by someone much more mundane than ourselves) was at least 6 months older than Pip (our Teen Queen who is now nearly 18). Poo's original (mundane) owner was going to live overseas, and asked my husband if he would adopt the shy, caramel-tortoise calico. Being a sucker for such things, R said that he'd be happy to take her in.
While my husband and I were dating, I think that I only saw that cat once or twice. She spent most of her days hiding from pretty much everyone and everything.
In the life that's happened since we got married, Poo eventually warmed up to being with us and was a surrogate mother to our other cats (now nearly 10 and 11 years old). In the past few years, she'd even had occasional bouts of kitten-like play!
Alas it was not to continue forever. Over the course of the past six months or so, it has seemed that it was getting harder for her to get around our apartment (which we call 'Lilliput' --for a reason). Since Easter-time she hadn't been able to climb into the litter box due to rheumatism (I suppose). My guess is that she suffered some kind of stroke late Saturday afternoon and didn't recover. She was still lying on her favorite chair and breathing when I left for work yesterday, but was lifeless when I returned.
There is now a newly seeded patch of dirt out by the garage. --Don't tell the landlord.
Our dear, old Poo Cat has passed away.
As near as we can guess, Poo (originally named Patience by someone much more mundane than ourselves) was at least 6 months older than Pip (our Teen Queen who is now nearly 18). Poo's original (mundane) owner was going to live overseas, and asked my husband if he would adopt the shy, caramel-tortoise calico. Being a sucker for such things, R said that he'd be happy to take her in.
While my husband and I were dating, I think that I only saw that cat once or twice. She spent most of her days hiding from pretty much everyone and everything.
In the life that's happened since we got married, Poo eventually warmed up to being with us and was a surrogate mother to our other cats (now nearly 10 and 11 years old). In the past few years, she'd even had occasional bouts of kitten-like play!
Alas it was not to continue forever. Over the course of the past six months or so, it has seemed that it was getting harder for her to get around our apartment (which we call 'Lilliput' --for a reason). Since Easter-time she hadn't been able to climb into the litter box due to rheumatism (I suppose). My guess is that she suffered some kind of stroke late Saturday afternoon and didn't recover. She was still lying on her favorite chair and breathing when I left for work yesterday, but was lifeless when I returned.
There is now a newly seeded patch of dirt out by the garage. --Don't tell the landlord.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Out of Respect, I've Held my Tongue
OK, I've held my mouth shut this long, but I can't hold still any longer.
The Rev. Jerry Falwell died the other day and I keep hearing the Munchkin chorus from the Wizard of Oz singing, "Ding, dong the witch is dead...". To some people, Rev. Falwell was an inspiration, but to many of the rest of us he was a hate-monger hiding behind a pulpit. In my opinion, the world is a much kinder, gentler place without people like him.
Don't get me wrong-- I'm all for spirituality and connecting daily with whatever higher power you believe in. It just ticks me off when one group's religious doctrine feels the need to dominate politics and insert its moral edicts into my daily life.
Things like "do not kill" and "do not steal" are generally considered laws to live by and I'm cool with that.
"You deserve to be treated like a second-class citizen and are going to hell for falling in love with someone of your same sex"- not really legally defensible..... more like an opinion.
And you know what they say about those.....
Part of me is hoping that Rev. Falwell made it to the pearly gates, was let in, and finally found out that the first gay pride float was the little boat that Jesus and the apostles fished out of.
I know that I'm going to Hell, so hold your scathing comments. I have it on good authority that it will be the good side of Hell and I figure that that ain't half bad.
The Rev. Jerry Falwell died the other day and I keep hearing the Munchkin chorus from the Wizard of Oz singing, "Ding, dong the witch is dead...". To some people, Rev. Falwell was an inspiration, but to many of the rest of us he was a hate-monger hiding behind a pulpit. In my opinion, the world is a much kinder, gentler place without people like him.
Don't get me wrong-- I'm all for spirituality and connecting daily with whatever higher power you believe in. It just ticks me off when one group's religious doctrine feels the need to dominate politics and insert its moral edicts into my daily life.
Things like "do not kill" and "do not steal" are generally considered laws to live by and I'm cool with that.
"You deserve to be treated like a second-class citizen and are going to hell for falling in love with someone of your same sex"- not really legally defensible..... more like an opinion.
And you know what they say about those.....
Part of me is hoping that Rev. Falwell made it to the pearly gates, was let in, and finally found out that the first gay pride float was the little boat that Jesus and the apostles fished out of.
I know that I'm going to Hell, so hold your scathing comments. I have it on good authority that it will be the good side of Hell and I figure that that ain't half bad.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Supreme Irony or Just a Well-Placed Office?
So I've been giving out directions to our office all morning for patients coming in tomorrow morning to see our EP doc.
They go a bit like this:
"Turn right by the Arby's, take a left when you pass McDonald's, our building is just behind Wendy's..."
We're a cardiology office. The irony of the directions I give is not lost on me.
They go a bit like this:
"Turn right by the Arby's, take a left when you pass McDonald's, our building is just behind Wendy's..."
We're a cardiology office. The irony of the directions I give is not lost on me.
Monday, May 14, 2007
The Jet-Set Life
Another weekend has come and gone. I'd like to say that I wrote the next great American novel, or invented a car that ran on dirty dishes, or somehow made the planet a better place to be, but I didn't.
I had play practice on Friday night. A small community group near where I live is doing "State Fair" and I made it into characterland for that. (I consider the 'chorus' more like the 'character actors' of the play. We're not leads, but without us you're stuck watching classic Greek tragedies.) Anyway, for the one scene, I get to play drunk. --And here my mom thought that I was wasting my time going out to clubs when I was in my late teens/early 20's! No, not me! I was doing 'character research'.
I played sceming wenches in the last two community theater productions I was in. I won't go into how I researched those.....
Saturday was prom for us. This means that I spent the majority of Saturday afternoon playing beauty shop with my stepdaughter. We polished her nails with a nice golden-blush color (very demure!), evened out the self-tanner, and curled and pinned her hair up. Her dress was ivory with gold embroidery on the bodice, so she looked quite bridal. *eeeek* She and her boyfriend had a great time and she made it home by 4:30am on Sunday. (Until next year when she's a senior, she has a curfew. I know, I'm such a kill-joy.)
On Sunday, the hair came down and the nails were re-polished bright blue.
It's no fun being a lady all of the time.
And Sunday -Mother's Day- I went to church, then did dishes and a couple loads of laundry. Why? Because that's how I roll. ...wearing clean underwear...
And I called my mom to wish her Happy Mother's Day. She -of course- was out at the casino having a good old time with Dad.
Again, when the hell did I become the adult?!?
I had play practice on Friday night. A small community group near where I live is doing "State Fair" and I made it into characterland for that. (I consider the 'chorus' more like the 'character actors' of the play. We're not leads, but without us you're stuck watching classic Greek tragedies.) Anyway, for the one scene, I get to play drunk. --And here my mom thought that I was wasting my time going out to clubs when I was in my late teens/early 20's! No, not me! I was doing 'character research'.
I played sceming wenches in the last two community theater productions I was in. I won't go into how I researched those.....
Saturday was prom for us. This means that I spent the majority of Saturday afternoon playing beauty shop with my stepdaughter. We polished her nails with a nice golden-blush color (very demure!), evened out the self-tanner, and curled and pinned her hair up. Her dress was ivory with gold embroidery on the bodice, so she looked quite bridal. *eeeek* She and her boyfriend had a great time and she made it home by 4:30am on Sunday. (Until next year when she's a senior, she has a curfew. I know, I'm such a kill-joy.)
On Sunday, the hair came down and the nails were re-polished bright blue.
It's no fun being a lady all of the time.
And Sunday -Mother's Day- I went to church, then did dishes and a couple loads of laundry. Why? Because that's how I roll. ...wearing clean underwear...
And I called my mom to wish her Happy Mother's Day. She -of course- was out at the casino having a good old time with Dad.
Again, when the hell did I become the adult?!?
Friday, May 11, 2007
We'll See How this Goes
For the sake of being able to leave comments on my friend's blog, I had to bite the proverbial bullet and start one of my own. In person, I like to think of myself as witty with the occasional bit of clever thrown in, but I guess we'll see how this translates to the blog-world, eh?
As to myself, I've been married for nigh on 12 years and I have an (almost) 18-year-old stepdaughter who lives with us. Things are pretty good in general, it's just that this is NOT where I had pictured myself 15 years ago!
Well, time to comment on Kimba's blog!
As to myself, I've been married for nigh on 12 years and I have an (almost) 18-year-old stepdaughter who lives with us. Things are pretty good in general, it's just that this is NOT where I had pictured myself 15 years ago!
Well, time to comment on Kimba's blog!
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