Jesus, I just realized it's been over a month since I blogged. And, I guess, that that has been the case more often than not over the last year. It's not for want of something to talk about, that's for sure. Life's just busy. And has gotten more so in the past week, as we've started to get ready to move. Which involves basically fumigating and partially gutting Scott's house, now that the scuzzball renters have vacated, because they did all kinds of damage both intentionally and just because they were lazy sacks of shit... But it's neat to see the progress happen, neat to feel comfortable in the neighborhood, et al.
Will post pics of the progress later. But for now, back to bed for a little bit.
Party on, Garth. Party on, Wayne.
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Little Man Syndrome, exemplified
Watch this:
Trooper pulls over, assaults paramedic with a patient in the ambulance
And then tell me, WTF????
I'm sure there is more information to the story. However. There's never any excuse for another public safety person to impede, delay, or otherwise jeopardize the care of a patient in an ambulance, NO MATTER WHAT. Doesn't matter what kind of dick-wagging contest you're trying to win, whether that darn medic was driving too fast or did something else you didn't like, or whether you're just pissy that day. Follow the damn ambulance to the hospital, let the medics turn their patient over, and then throw down. (But understand, the next time you need a favor from that medic, he may not have the same friendly blue-team spirit he might have had.)
For the love of Pete.
***UPDATE***
Check out the written statement of Paramedic Maurice White, Jr., and shake your head with me. Truly disturbing. I hope these officers are relieved of duty because of this situation. It's not okay.
Trooper pulls over, assaults paramedic with a patient in the ambulance
And then tell me, WTF????
I'm sure there is more information to the story. However. There's never any excuse for another public safety person to impede, delay, or otherwise jeopardize the care of a patient in an ambulance, NO MATTER WHAT. Doesn't matter what kind of dick-wagging contest you're trying to win, whether that darn medic was driving too fast or did something else you didn't like, or whether you're just pissy that day. Follow the damn ambulance to the hospital, let the medics turn their patient over, and then throw down. (But understand, the next time you need a favor from that medic, he may not have the same friendly blue-team spirit he might have had.)
For the love of Pete.
***UPDATE***
Check out the written statement of Paramedic Maurice White, Jr., and shake your head with me. Truly disturbing. I hope these officers are relieved of duty because of this situation. It's not okay.
Notes from the Trenches
Been a long stretch of shifts, this one. And as loosely cross-posted over on Envisage 365, marked by a particularly difficult speedbump. Patients who're miscarrying are always unpleasant (well, not their demeanor, I just mean the care is always unpleasant) because of all the ick, the paperwork, and the emotion. But when there's a tiny little person with fingers and toes and even a name, and a set of parents who really, truly were excited to welcome this little person into their family in a matter of months...well, it's devastating instead of just unpleasant. I've said it before, if I hit a point where a dead baby doesn't make me cry, I'll look at changing careers - and apparently I'm not there yet, I left the room when it was all said and done and bawled standing there at the nurses' station. It was awful.
- - - - -
And a couple of ugly car crashes in this stretch. One that worked out like it should have, and another that worked out like they usually do. I'll explain.
Usually, when a normal person gets into a car accident, they have a split second or better when they know beyond the shadow of a doubt that there's going to be an impact, but there's nothing more they can do about it. So naturally, we brace ourselves. All the muscles tense - and are in that tensed position when that impact occurs, so those muscles get stretched, strained, or torn. But it doesn't work that way when you're trashed, three-sheets-to-the-wind, shitfaced drunk. As too many of the drivers we take care of are. Nope, if you're nice and relaxed with a slowed-down reaction time, you're loose as a goose when impact happens, and maybe you bounce off something inside the car like the steering wheel or the window - but you avoid all that shearing injury from having anticipated the wreck a second early.
Crash A: Drunk person, hauling ass, crosses the wide grassy median and plows into another someone at a frontal angle. The another someone, a sober ATTORNEY (sucks to be the drunkie) checks out fine, just a scratch or two. The drunk person: a few broken bones and an expensive hospital admission.
Translation: That's fair, as far as I'm concerned.
Crash B: Drunk person, evidently clipping along, drives into the path of quickly oncoming traffic and is clobbered and spun and slammed into a curb. From the pictures of the car...this person ought to be dead. And yet...not a single injury. Thanks to Jose Cuervo. The driver and passenger of the other car that couldn't stop in time when dipshit showed up in their way were still okay, some facial injuries and neck strains, so it could have been worse.
And that's the way they usually are, the drunk person scoots through the whole ordeal with nary an injury - only usually there's a more serious injury or death to someone whose fault it wasn't.
- - - - -
Had a little exercise in prehospital-to-ER communication, as well - and a somebody hopefully learned a smidgen about when NOT to hang around on scene for a half hour looking at the car and saying "gawrsh, that looks BAD."
Folks, it's like this. For those of you in other lines of work, I'll explain. For those in the biz, humor me and/or skip the next paragraph.
When an ambulance is inbound, either the EMT or the Paramedic (whoever is in back, working with the patient, and this depends on the condition of the patient and how advanced of care they require) will "patch" or call ahead on the radio to the ER they're enroute to and give them a very brief heads-up of what they're bringing, usually roughly taking the following form: "This is John on AMR 6, inbound to your facility non-emergent with an 86 eight-six year old female complaining of acute onset shortness of breath with one to two word dyspnea. Lung sounds coarse, pulse ox 82% on scene, now up to 94% on a nonrebreather, she's sinus on the monitor with a rate of 90 and no ectopy, pressure 154/82 and resps 24 and labored. We'll be there in about 5, any questions or orders?" Which gives us all the information we need to assign a room, give the doc and the nurse a heads-up, and set up the room with any equipment or extra staff we need there (like a respiratory therapist with a CPAP machine maybe).
Anyhow. Sometimes the patch contains more information, sometimes less, most of the time depending on the seriousness of the patient and the experience of the paramedic or EMT (neither of which are fond of being called 'ambulance drivers,' FYI). Inexperienced EMTs often give way too much information; experienced medics with a truly sick patient will know exactly which facts to give, and if information is sketchy we depend on our knowledge of the person who's doing the patching. That's where it gets tricky. If, say, Scott patches and says "AMR 9, 5 out with a 6 year old fall, need a trauma team," then I will call a trauma team, no questions asked. I will always err on the side of caution, unless the medic appears totally clueless and the patient sounds stable, in which case we will have the team on standby.
So let's say a new medic to our system patches with "AMR 5, on scene with a 48 year old male who was involved in a high speed MVA, 5-6 feet intrusion, we'll need a (modified trauma) team and we'll probably be there in 10-12." Regardless of who it is, he gives me one pertinent detail that guides my actions: 5-6 feet of intrusion into a passenger compartment is not usually an indication of a healthy patient. I called the team, and mostly ignored the little voice in my head that said "but why are they still on scene if the mechanism is so impressive?" A few minutes later I get a call on the recorded line from the EMT, who I do know and trust, but who doesn't have the pecking order to call the shots - and he says "There is about 2 feet of intrusion, and we need a full trauma team." Okay, again. I err on the side of caution and upgrade to a full team. By now, I'm getting calls from the trauma surgeon, OR, chaplain, everybody wondering what's coming, and I give them what meager info I have. Then, the idiot medic patches again, and I hear sirens in the background: "Uh, AMR 5, coming emergent now with that MVA, complaining of right arm pain, self-extricated and ambulatory on scene, ETA 3." Okay, now I'm really confused, because I'm not sure why this medic has NOW chosen to come code 3, and he didn't mention anything new that tips me off.
They roll in a couple minutes later, and then my sweetie calls me and clears the confusion up. Scott was the second medic on scene, and basically got there and ran the show the way the first medic should have - explained the accident to me, it all made sense then. All of it except why the first medic was clueless. It's incredibly lucky the patient didn't have a massive head bleed or internal injuries, because the 20 minutes of dawdling on scene wouldn'ta done him any favors.
- - - - -
I've rambled enough. More later.
- - - - -
And a couple of ugly car crashes in this stretch. One that worked out like it should have, and another that worked out like they usually do. I'll explain.
Usually, when a normal person gets into a car accident, they have a split second or better when they know beyond the shadow of a doubt that there's going to be an impact, but there's nothing more they can do about it. So naturally, we brace ourselves. All the muscles tense - and are in that tensed position when that impact occurs, so those muscles get stretched, strained, or torn. But it doesn't work that way when you're trashed, three-sheets-to-the-wind, shitfaced drunk. As too many of the drivers we take care of are. Nope, if you're nice and relaxed with a slowed-down reaction time, you're loose as a goose when impact happens, and maybe you bounce off something inside the car like the steering wheel or the window - but you avoid all that shearing injury from having anticipated the wreck a second early.
Crash A: Drunk person, hauling ass, crosses the wide grassy median and plows into another someone at a frontal angle. The another someone, a sober ATTORNEY (sucks to be the drunkie) checks out fine, just a scratch or two. The drunk person: a few broken bones and an expensive hospital admission.
Translation: That's fair, as far as I'm concerned.
Crash B: Drunk person, evidently clipping along, drives into the path of quickly oncoming traffic and is clobbered and spun and slammed into a curb. From the pictures of the car...this person ought to be dead. And yet...not a single injury. Thanks to Jose Cuervo. The driver and passenger of the other car that couldn't stop in time when dipshit showed up in their way were still okay, some facial injuries and neck strains, so it could have been worse.
And that's the way they usually are, the drunk person scoots through the whole ordeal with nary an injury - only usually there's a more serious injury or death to someone whose fault it wasn't.
- - - - -
Had a little exercise in prehospital-to-ER communication, as well - and a somebody hopefully learned a smidgen about when NOT to hang around on scene for a half hour looking at the car and saying "gawrsh, that looks BAD."
Folks, it's like this. For those of you in other lines of work, I'll explain. For those in the biz, humor me and/or skip the next paragraph.
When an ambulance is inbound, either the EMT or the Paramedic (whoever is in back, working with the patient, and this depends on the condition of the patient and how advanced of care they require) will "patch" or call ahead on the radio to the ER they're enroute to and give them a very brief heads-up of what they're bringing, usually roughly taking the following form: "This is John on AMR 6, inbound to your facility non-emergent with an 86 eight-six year old female complaining of acute onset shortness of breath with one to two word dyspnea. Lung sounds coarse, pulse ox 82% on scene, now up to 94% on a nonrebreather, she's sinus on the monitor with a rate of 90 and no ectopy, pressure 154/82 and resps 24 and labored. We'll be there in about 5, any questions or orders?" Which gives us all the information we need to assign a room, give the doc and the nurse a heads-up, and set up the room with any equipment or extra staff we need there (like a respiratory therapist with a CPAP machine maybe).
Anyhow. Sometimes the patch contains more information, sometimes less, most of the time depending on the seriousness of the patient and the experience of the paramedic or EMT (neither of which are fond of being called 'ambulance drivers,' FYI). Inexperienced EMTs often give way too much information; experienced medics with a truly sick patient will know exactly which facts to give, and if information is sketchy we depend on our knowledge of the person who's doing the patching. That's where it gets tricky. If, say, Scott patches and says "AMR 9, 5 out with a 6 year old fall, need a trauma team," then I will call a trauma team, no questions asked. I will always err on the side of caution, unless the medic appears totally clueless and the patient sounds stable, in which case we will have the team on standby.
So let's say a new medic to our system patches with "AMR 5, on scene with a 48 year old male who was involved in a high speed MVA, 5-6 feet intrusion, we'll need a (modified trauma) team and we'll probably be there in 10-12." Regardless of who it is, he gives me one pertinent detail that guides my actions: 5-6 feet of intrusion into a passenger compartment is not usually an indication of a healthy patient. I called the team, and mostly ignored the little voice in my head that said "but why are they still on scene if the mechanism is so impressive?" A few minutes later I get a call on the recorded line from the EMT, who I do know and trust, but who doesn't have the pecking order to call the shots - and he says "There is about 2 feet of intrusion, and we need a full trauma team." Okay, again. I err on the side of caution and upgrade to a full team. By now, I'm getting calls from the trauma surgeon, OR, chaplain, everybody wondering what's coming, and I give them what meager info I have. Then, the idiot medic patches again, and I hear sirens in the background: "Uh, AMR 5, coming emergent now with that MVA, complaining of right arm pain, self-extricated and ambulatory on scene, ETA 3." Okay, now I'm really confused, because I'm not sure why this medic has NOW chosen to come code 3, and he didn't mention anything new that tips me off.
They roll in a couple minutes later, and then my sweetie calls me and clears the confusion up. Scott was the second medic on scene, and basically got there and ran the show the way the first medic should have - explained the accident to me, it all made sense then. All of it except why the first medic was clueless. It's incredibly lucky the patient didn't have a massive head bleed or internal injuries, because the 20 minutes of dawdling on scene wouldn'ta done him any favors.
- - - - -
I've rambled enough. More later.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Wee-Hour Potpourri
Yes, I know. More and more of my posts have taken on the flavor of an eccentric old maid's ramblings. An increasing number of them have no particular topic, which shouldn't surprise anyone in the least, leastways anyone who knows me well.
I make no apologies, goddammit. If you want strict topic adherence, go find some other blog whereretards writers are paid for their pablum content. If you want a "nursing blog" per se, which is how this one has come to be marketed in certain circles, I have any number of great recommendations - check my sidebar. But this blog is more than just mine. It's *me* - in all its imperfection, rambling verbosity, ever-changing tone, occasional bile and rage, occasional sappy treacle, always honest and never put out there for any other soul but myself. Take it or leave it, I guess.
Now then.
I'm kind of tired - it's late and I should be sleeping - but I'm not. Scott has blissfully returned to a normal shift - instead of a 24-hour fire shift he's working a twelve-hour weeknight shift. So what that means for us is that we get to see each other every day, we get to sleep together most days (or nights, as work schedules dictate, because we work mostly the same nights). I took the kids to see "Night at the Museum II" tonight, and it was pretty good.
Impromptu restaurant review: Smashburger. A new joint I've been intrigued by since they started building it right next to the tanning salon I frequent. So tonight we partook. It's quirky and fresh and fun - and the burger I had (the 1/3 pound classic smashburger) would have been fabulous if it'd been cooked all the way through. Yes, I'm picky. Yes, I want no pink. The kids liked theirs, though - Kyle went with the grilled cheese which was probably the way I should have gone. Their smashfries are good - regular fries seasoned with olive oil, basil, oregano, yada yada. Oh well. We'll probably give it one more chance.
The man and I are looking at starting an exercise regimen and a low-carb, high protein diet in a couple weeks. We both need to take better care of ourselves... He will feel better and be healthier if he drops some extra; my mental health is always better when I'm exercising and I want desperately to get rid of the bit of stubborn belly fat I have, so I can wear those skimpy Sturgis duds with wild abandon come August. And a couple of nurse friends have sworn by the low-carb thing for just those two end results. I dread it, honestly, because I so love carbs - but it's worth a try, we figure.
But we're not starting it till Monday or Tuesday the 8th or 9th. The weekend prior to that, we're going to Michigan; I'll get to meet most of the rest of Scott's family I haven't met yet, and he'll get what might be his last chance to see a couple of his grandparents who are getting up there. It should be nice to get away for a few days... And I'm told that though Detroit proper isn't much of a tourist destination, the rest of the state is beautiful.
All right. I'm tired. Sleeping now.
I make no apologies, goddammit. If you want strict topic adherence, go find some other blog where
Now then.
I'm kind of tired - it's late and I should be sleeping - but I'm not. Scott has blissfully returned to a normal shift - instead of a 24-hour fire shift he's working a twelve-hour weeknight shift. So what that means for us is that we get to see each other every day, we get to sleep together most days (or nights, as work schedules dictate, because we work mostly the same nights). I took the kids to see "Night at the Museum II" tonight, and it was pretty good.
Impromptu restaurant review: Smashburger. A new joint I've been intrigued by since they started building it right next to the tanning salon I frequent. So tonight we partook. It's quirky and fresh and fun - and the burger I had (the 1/3 pound classic smashburger) would have been fabulous if it'd been cooked all the way through. Yes, I'm picky. Yes, I want no pink. The kids liked theirs, though - Kyle went with the grilled cheese which was probably the way I should have gone. Their smashfries are good - regular fries seasoned with olive oil, basil, oregano, yada yada. Oh well. We'll probably give it one more chance.
The man and I are looking at starting an exercise regimen and a low-carb, high protein diet in a couple weeks. We both need to take better care of ourselves... He will feel better and be healthier if he drops some extra; my mental health is always better when I'm exercising and I want desperately to get rid of the bit of stubborn belly fat I have, so I can wear those skimpy Sturgis duds with wild abandon come August. And a couple of nurse friends have sworn by the low-carb thing for just those two end results. I dread it, honestly, because I so love carbs - but it's worth a try, we figure.
But we're not starting it till Monday or Tuesday the 8th or 9th. The weekend prior to that, we're going to Michigan; I'll get to meet most of the rest of Scott's family I haven't met yet, and he'll get what might be his last chance to see a couple of his grandparents who are getting up there. It should be nice to get away for a few days... And I'm told that though Detroit proper isn't much of a tourist destination, the rest of the state is beautiful.
All right. I'm tired. Sleeping now.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Misanthropy, Part Deux
WTF? Really, what?
My general distaste for the human condition today comes not from work, but from the news.
Apparently in our fair city yesterday, a 13 year old shot his 9 year old brother and then shot and stabbed their mom. Wow. This is a family from the *right* side of the tracks, the good end of town, the sought after real estate. The mom lived, the brother did not. I'm really glad I wasn't at work then - though I would have only missed being the one taking care of the mom by about an hour. And really, what do you say to someone whose firstborn has just tried to kill her two different ways??
And the shitbag in California who ate his kid's eye. What the hell kind of person is that? I don't care what kind of mind-altering substance you have on board, if you can bite your own 4-year-old's eye out of his head and then consume it, you ought to be hung from your pinky toes and slowly disemboweled with a nail file.
On a lighter note, I had a Tupperware party tonight, and got to see a dear sweet friend I've really missed - and amidst poor turnout and copious margaritas and loud children everywhere and a wonderful surprise stop-off by my favorite paramedic and his new partner (it always gets the neighborhood talking when an ambulance is idling in front of the house for a half hour!)... it was a really nice evening that left me asking myself why I don't make more time for girlfriends. And for me, as it happens.
Well. I'm pooped. I keep thinking of all these little things to blog about and then when it comes right down to it and I have time, I either forget those things or know that I'm too tired to properly do them justice. One day. But for now, I'm going to bed.
Good night, screwed up world...
My general distaste for the human condition today comes not from work, but from the news.
Apparently in our fair city yesterday, a 13 year old shot his 9 year old brother and then shot and stabbed their mom. Wow. This is a family from the *right* side of the tracks, the good end of town, the sought after real estate. The mom lived, the brother did not. I'm really glad I wasn't at work then - though I would have only missed being the one taking care of the mom by about an hour. And really, what do you say to someone whose firstborn has just tried to kill her two different ways??
And the shitbag in California who ate his kid's eye. What the hell kind of person is that? I don't care what kind of mind-altering substance you have on board, if you can bite your own 4-year-old's eye out of his head and then consume it, you ought to be hung from your pinky toes and slowly disemboweled with a nail file.
On a lighter note, I had a Tupperware party tonight, and got to see a dear sweet friend I've really missed - and amidst poor turnout and copious margaritas and loud children everywhere and a wonderful surprise stop-off by my favorite paramedic and his new partner (it always gets the neighborhood talking when an ambulance is idling in front of the house for a half hour!)... it was a really nice evening that left me asking myself why I don't make more time for girlfriends. And for me, as it happens.
Well. I'm pooped. I keep thinking of all these little things to blog about and then when it comes right down to it and I have time, I either forget those things or know that I'm too tired to properly do them justice. One day. But for now, I'm going to bed.
Good night, screwed up world...
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Misanthropy.
In general.
The only person who can out-rant me on the human condition, in general, is the sweet and fabulous Eric, my hairdresser whom I dearly need to visit. And I think I might be able to match him toe-to-toe right now.
Could it be that I'm tired? Sure.
Could it be that I haven't had a single cup of coffee today? You betcha.
Could it be the hormones? Yep.
Could it be that I spent most of the day doing everybody else's stuff? Mmm hmm.
Could it be that I spent half the night listening to people fight? Absolutely.
Could it be that people just suck? Undoubtedly.
I'm going to goddamn bed. Tomorrow will be better. It has to. Right??
The only person who can out-rant me on the human condition, in general, is the sweet and fabulous Eric, my hairdresser whom I dearly need to visit. And I think I might be able to match him toe-to-toe right now.
Could it be that I'm tired? Sure.
Could it be that I haven't had a single cup of coffee today? You betcha.
Could it be the hormones? Yep.
Could it be that I spent most of the day doing everybody else's stuff? Mmm hmm.
Could it be that I spent half the night listening to people fight? Absolutely.
Could it be that people just suck? Undoubtedly.
I'm going to goddamn bed. Tomorrow will be better. It has to. Right??
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Saturday night's all right
Welll...another Saturday, this one mildly productive as I tackled piles of paperwork and paraphernalia, got one step closer to reformatting the hard drive on this beast of a computer so it might run more efficiently than your average Commodore 64 until which point I can afford a fancy new one of some type (hoping the MacBook fairy comes in the night)[insert raucous laughtrack here]...
And actually enjoyed part of the day too. The kids and I went swimming this evening for a while (family night at the indoor pool a few blocks away, $2.75 each), stopped at Blockbuster for a rental ($1.04) and then at Subway for some chow (a $10 gift card plus $1.03)... a big bowl of buttery air-popped popcorn and snuggling on the couch... So - in short - gleeful kids and a happy mommy, a really nice evening for the bargain price of about $10.50. Who can beat that??
Tomorrow, it's dust bunnies and food splatters I'll be tackling, and the bottomless pit of toys in the boys' room, and the science projects in the fridge. And dishes, laundry, and tidying, the trifecta of holy shit that characterizes my life as mom of 5.
A few random thoughts permeating my psyche at the moment:
Common sense = Not common
Common courtesy = Not common
Water = must drink more
"Hero" = awfully diluted meaning these days, I disagree most times
Honeycomb = perfect midnight snack
Lip = wouldn't split when I smile if I drank more water
Bed = good plan
And actually enjoyed part of the day too. The kids and I went swimming this evening for a while (family night at the indoor pool a few blocks away, $2.75 each), stopped at Blockbuster for a rental ($1.04) and then at Subway for some chow (a $10 gift card plus $1.03)... a big bowl of buttery air-popped popcorn and snuggling on the couch... So - in short - gleeful kids and a happy mommy, a really nice evening for the bargain price of about $10.50. Who can beat that??
Tomorrow, it's dust bunnies and food splatters I'll be tackling, and the bottomless pit of toys in the boys' room, and the science projects in the fridge. And dishes, laundry, and tidying, the trifecta of holy shit that characterizes my life as mom of 5.
A few random thoughts permeating my psyche at the moment:
Common sense = Not common
Common courtesy = Not common
Water = must drink more
"Hero" = awfully diluted meaning these days, I disagree most times
Honeycomb = perfect midnight snack
Lip = wouldn't split when I smile if I drank more water
Bed = good plan
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Saturday, March 28, 2009
A Photo Catchup...Kinda
It seems I post so infrequently lately, that I wonder if any of y'all are still visiting...my apologies for that, one of these days I'll be re-motivated to write. But in the interim, one can keep tabs on me at least partially by visiting the blog of a really cool project I'm involved in: Envisage 365. It's where a bunch of women, there are 43 of us now, send in one picture a day to capture a slice of our lives - and it's a phenomenally interesting group of women I've come to think of as my friends. Go on, check it out.
Here are some recent pics.
Here are some recent pics.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Seriously.
What is the deal with Tapout decals on *everybody's* car or truck anymore?? Good grief. It's nothing against mixed martial arts, not at all - we love to watch extreme fighting and do so fairly frequently. But we don't have Tapout stickers on our cars, because -- guess what -- we aren't cage fighters. We don't know any cage fighters (well, we know a dood who fancies himself one, which is ludicrous - and Scott knows the dad of a pretty highly ranked one). It seems like every third car you see anymore has a big ol' Tapout sticker...kinda like the Everlast sticker on the car of a wimp who's never donned a boxing glove...a Nike swoosh on the back of a minivan piloted by a 300-pound couch potato...
Come on, people.
And while I'm on the subject of stickers, let's see. Those little "these stick figures represent our family and our pets" ones. If your family has that much of an identity crisis, stay home. (Scott and I think it would be funny if they made amputee stick figures or retarded stick figures, to be thorough.) We saw a suburban the other day that had no fewer than 15 stick-beings between all their kids and their pets - and I think to myself, wow, back in the day, the simple presence of a car of that magnitude advertised familial magnitude.
And people who have ribbons for every cause. You can buy 'em for any cause, sure, but jesus christ, people. Pick one or two. Just because your car has ribbons plastered all over the back of it, doesn't make you a nice person.
Those stupid little white oval stickers with letters on them standing for ski resorts, ethnic groups, recreational habits, or whatever-the-hell. I saw a website once that actually sold white oval stickers that read (I think) SWO - for Stupid White Oval.
People who are so insecure in their profession or respective livelihood that they have to advertise it on their car. Case in point: a few of the EMT folks around here. Volunteer firemen. "Army Sniper"s. I mean, really. The people who earned the hero's respect you're jockeying for don't advertise it.
**
I think that's all the ranting for now. Been busy lately just keeping up with everybody's schedules and activities and so forth - finding some time for fun once in a while, we spent a beautiful St. Patrick's day on the bike (although my right contact BLEW OUT OF MY EYE about a half-hour into the ride - it blew out!! I don't even know how that happens, especially when one has wraparound sunglasses on. Strange.) I'll post some pictures when I get around to it...
Come on, people.
And while I'm on the subject of stickers, let's see. Those little "these stick figures represent our family and our pets" ones. If your family has that much of an identity crisis, stay home. (Scott and I think it would be funny if they made amputee stick figures or retarded stick figures, to be thorough.) We saw a suburban the other day that had no fewer than 15 stick-beings between all their kids and their pets - and I think to myself, wow, back in the day, the simple presence of a car of that magnitude advertised familial magnitude.
And people who have ribbons for every cause. You can buy 'em for any cause, sure, but jesus christ, people. Pick one or two. Just because your car has ribbons plastered all over the back of it, doesn't make you a nice person.
Those stupid little white oval stickers with letters on them standing for ski resorts, ethnic groups, recreational habits, or whatever-the-hell. I saw a website once that actually sold white oval stickers that read (I think) SWO - for Stupid White Oval.
People who are so insecure in their profession or respective livelihood that they have to advertise it on their car. Case in point: a few of the EMT folks around here. Volunteer firemen. "Army Sniper"s. I mean, really. The people who earned the hero's respect you're jockeying for don't advertise it.
**
I think that's all the ranting for now. Been busy lately just keeping up with everybody's schedules and activities and so forth - finding some time for fun once in a while, we spent a beautiful St. Patrick's day on the bike (although my right contact BLEW OUT OF MY EYE about a half-hour into the ride - it blew out!! I don't even know how that happens, especially when one has wraparound sunglasses on. Strange.) I'll post some pictures when I get around to it...
Monday, March 09, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Because they're cousins...
...identical cousins (c'mon everybody, sing along)...
Viva la seventies...
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Bursting With Pride...and mucus
Well, she did it. Stephanie made the varsity soccer team as a freshman - the only freshman, at that. This soccer program is consistently the #1 in town, and ranked pretty well statewide - and we couldn't be more proud of her.
As for the mucus part, well, there's a virus kicking my butt and I actually called in sick last night, instead of sucking it up and saving sick days for sick kids like I usually do. (yawn) Okay, back to bed.
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