Random Product Endorsement of the Day

Those folks over at Zippo, they make a fine product. Now, as a nonsmoker (my résumé consists of a stogie my dad challenged me to take a puff of when I was about, oh, ten, and one Cuban many, many years later after too much sangria) I can't tell you too much about it's actual function as a lighter. I do know they market it as windproof, and I've found that to be true on crafting occasions when I've needed a flame.

But the real kicker, the things the Zippo people *ought* to be capitalizing on:

They're washer-proof. Maytag-proof. Erica-proof, even.



See, I've washed this little sucker, and its gilded counterpart, about a dozen times. And it still keeps on lighting. I pull a load of wet jeans out of the washer, and by the time I've gotten half of the load into the dryer it registers with me that the smell I'm smelling is lighter fluid. I dig the wet Zippo out of whatever obscure pocket it's been stashed in. Being the astute amateur chemist that I am, I refrain from applying a heat source to hydrocarbon-soaked clothes - and back into the washer they go.

The first time this happened, I was apprehensive when my beloved picked up the lighter, shook it quizzically as if to wonder where the heck the fluid all went...then shrugged and filled it up, and it lit right away. (Then, of course, I admitted my faux pas.) And the lighter fluid came out of the clothes, too.

How 'bout that?


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Pertussis: n. \pər-ˈtə-səs\

Main Entry: per·tus·sis
Pronunciation: \pər-ˈtə-səs\
Function: noun
Etymology: New Latin, from Latin per- thoroughly + tussis cough
Date: circa 1799
: whooping cough

So I finally broke down and went to the doctor this morning, at the exasperated urging of the sweet man who has to sleep next to me, and as requested by several well-meaning co-workers who've offered to share their cough drops, send me home early, administer respiratory treatments, draw blood cultures or intubate me over the past few weeks. And the presumptive diagnosis is as above, with a booger swab pending to confirm.

Awesome.

Doubtless caught from some cute little stinker of a patient whose parents "choose not to immunize" (come over here, madam, so I can punch you in the head)... You see, my last tetanus shot was received before the whooping cough outbreaks that prompted Sanofi Pasteur et al to resume adding the acellular pertussis component to the reg'lar old dip-tet.

As per the definition above, which is shockingly accurate in its archaic roots, I'm thoroughly coughing.  Thoroughly sick of coughing.  Spending about 40% of my life being wracked with a quasi-productive cough that moves just enough crud to block my airway and make me choke, so that after 7 or 8 half-assed choking coughs I progress to the gagging, holy-shit-don't-puke kind of cough for 3 or 4 more, and in the process move enough out of the way to breathe through... until the next fit of coughing (averaging 30-60 seconds between bouts).  Drinking Robitussin like it's soda pop, trying to sleep with nyquil because between shifts I can't put opiates into my system...pushing fluids and trying to rest...all the while taking care of people who are considerably less sick than I am...

Yes.  I'm bitching.  I'm tired of coughing.  Tired of being tired.  I don't have time for this shit.

On the upside, I'm working on a Z-pack now, and have Tessalon to try and kill some of the bronchospasm while I'm at work, and I have some real cough medicine to take the second my shift ends on Saturday morning... But the really horrifying part??  If this is truly the whooping cough, the P.A. tells me that the residual inflammatory cough usually lasts up to six months.

Goddammit people, immunize your kids.  And maybe go get a Tdap booster yourself, because this blows.

 CDC Info on Pertussis

A Good Day... Arrrrrrrr.

So yesterday, in addition to being International Talk Like a Pirate Day (which we usually do a *way* better job of commemorating), it was also Gabriel's birthday. And like I always do, I made a cool theme cake (with lots of help from Hayley this time around, thank you sweetie!) ... One that raised the eyebrows of the supposed "grown-ups" in the room (c'mon, you know who you are) but which Gabe loved. The kid is obsessed currently with Jaws, and wanted a Jaws cake. To wit:





Much like the R2D2 cake I made him a few years ago, he thought it was awesome even though the rest of us thought it was less than perfect - and his opinion was the only one I cared about.

Dinner, cake, presents, family, friends, a bonfire and s'mores... And the sounds of little boys giggling and playing out back well into dark... It was a good day.




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Whazzat?

Smoke signals from the Peak? Fire at the Summit House? Or just a weird vapor trail? I dunno.

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More Drop-off Lane Entertainment

Translation, in case it's too blurry:

"You may not see the pain, but I feel the pain EVERY DAY. Fibromyalgia: it's time to find a cure."

Soldier on, you brave divorced, depressed, middle-aged sister.

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It's raining, it's pouring...

And soon I will be snoring...


After yummy homemade hot chocolate with freshly whipped cream and a lengthy snuggle with my sweetie.

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I Don't Get It

Now this is a trend / fad / bullshit flash in the pan I just don't understand. Granted, I'm not known for my fashion savvy (recently, I mentioned that to Hayley, and she said "Yeah, ya think?" Ouch.)

Anyway, I digress. What is the deal with these clip-on fox tails that are cropping up everywhere?I saw a middle-schooler with one hanging off her ass a few weeks ago whilst picking up Hayley... They were everywhere for sale at the mini-rally in Cripple Creek... And on the way back from said rally, this spectacle of ridiculosity that Erin was quick enough on the camera to capture:



You, ma'am, are what is wrong with grown-ups borrowing dumb teen fads. And *not* foxy.

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Atta girl...

Starting left fielder for the Wolves.  They won their first game yesterday, and we're pretty proud.
Way to go, sweetie!!

(photo stolen, with gusto, from her dad's Facebook album)

Bizarre.

So when i first got to work (about 8 hours ago) I sat down at my workstation and I smelled a dusty smell. Like you'd smell if you were cleaning the attic, or something, not an unclean smell but just a touch of ozone-dirt. Assumed it was just that: dust behind the computer or something.

Then I went in a patient's room, and smelled dust. Then in the med room, dust. Nurses' lounge? Dust. It's kind of disconcerting, really, because no matter how many times I blow my nose, the dust smell is still there.

I absentmindedly wonder if that means I have a brain tumor. Maybe I'll do what my patients do: check the Check the GTS database. (with a nod to my baby brother for one of my favorite expressions ever.)

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