So that picture at the center/top of the collage? That's what Pa King had done. Except that one is only involving 2-3 vertebrae. Dad's was 5. All but the top two in his neck. Holy crapola. I want to meet the guy who first thought, "Hey, I bet if we take off the back of the spine and screw some rods in the sides, that guy will feel better." 'Cause you know that was probably followed with "Y'all hand me that scalpel."

Advertising

I just saw an advertisement for Traveler's Insurance. It's pretty cute. They're reattaching "lucky rabbits' feet" to 3-footed rabbits. The reattached feet are died obnoxious colors. Really, it's funny. The rabbits are shown rehab-ing.

The funniest part? There's a rabbit swimming to rehab its new foot. At the bottom?

"Trained rabbit. Do not attempt at home."

I can just see kids all over the world trying to make their rabbits swim.

Poor, poor rabbits!

A great day

On most days, I know I'm good at my job.

On a good day, I know that I make a difference in someone's life.

On a great day, I learn that I might have saved one.

Today was a great day.

The War Was In Color

I worked for a few hours today. I didn't have to, but I do think my job is important, so I volunteered to cover the folks in the hospital so they wouldn't have to miss a day of treatment.

I only had two patients. One young, one old. The young one a victim of a car accident, the old one a victim of Alzheimer's. Today the old one was much more aware of where he was and why he was with us than he had been yesterday. He was in a chatty mood and didn't have any visitors. After we worked together, I spent a few minutes chatting with him. Today he didn't try to convince me to move the east wall so I could find his snuff. (Though I am freakishly strong, there was no way that east wall was hiding his Copenhagen.) No, today he was pretty much in the here and now. I made sure he had his telephone, call light, and remote control for the television. I wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and excused myself to go about the rest of mybusiness. When I asked him if I could get him anything else, he said, "Mostly what I need is company." I felt bad, but I needed to get to the task at hand.

Later, as I stood at the nurses' desk completing my paperwork, I could see the old man fiddling with the remote control. He looked at me and said something. I smiled and responded but never stopped charting. A few minutes later I hear him exclaim, "Patton!" I stopped and looked into his room. He turned his head and looked right at me.

Him: I was in Patton's Army, you know.

Me: You were?

Him: Yes, I was.

I put down my pen and walked into his room, pulled up a chair and just listened. He told stories of battles won and lives lost. He recalled the colors, the sounds and the smells of war; he was able tell me the names of his band of brothers. He shook his head, I think trying to avoid reliving all of those moments. I thought of my grandfathers, both of whom had extensive experience in the military and in war. I thought of this old man, who had seen so much. I thought of his wish that he just had company. So I stayed. I stayed and visited for a while. It wasn't chargeable time, and I wasn't on the clock. I was taking a lesson in life, one that I wish I had learned more of from my own grandfathers before I lost the opportunity.

Paper Boy introduced me to the band Carbon Leaf. I have to say, they're pretty frockin' awesome. Anyway, they have a song called "The War Was in Color" which is perhaps one of the most poignant songs I've ever heard. It's the conversation between a grandfather and grandson after the kid finds some of his war relics. I dare you to click on that link and not be moved.

You can agree or disagree with the war that our country is currently in. You can support the government that has put our troops in harm's way, or not. Please remember that there are generations of men and women who fought, lives saved and lost, for us to have the ability to say what we think out loud. On Memorial Day, please remember that there are rows of headstones in cemetaries all over our country, and dotted throughout many others, that represent those lives. We would all do well to remember that the number of headstones is being added to continually.

The best 15 minutes of my day was spent with that old man.

Pa King made it home from the hospital Saturday afternoon. Mom's big plan was to have Dad stay upstairs, basically in the bedroom, for a few days so he didn't have to go up and down the stairs. She would bring him meals, drinks of water, coffee... basically wait on him hand and foot.

Whatever. She didn't know there were 3 car races this weekend! I knew there was a NASCAR race, and that she wouldn't be able to keep him upstairs if she put him in a straight jacket. Sure enough, the official report was "I couldn't keep him up there for an hour!" The good news is that the pain in his neck (ha, that's not even a joke) has gone from stabbing to aching, and he's doing pretty well with using narcotics for pain control. Of course, he's anxious to get off the big-gun pain meds, but is resigned to maintaining his pain control for now. Thankfully, he hasn't been tempted to crawl onto the John Deere yet!

In other news, my friend Amy was supposed to pit-stop here on her way to a new job in Oregon. Unfortunately, she had some car trouble and won't be making it by. I guess Carhenge will have one less visitor this year!

A new friend (the speech therapist I work with) and I drove to Ft. Collins, CO, on Saturday to go shopping. That's right, it's a 7-8 hour round trip that we did just to shop and eat Thai food and sushi. Don't you judge us.

My air conditioner died today. Thankfully, it's not too bad outside and I'm surviving with the fans going. I guess I can look forward to a visit from Spike tomorrow. Whoo hoo! Guess I ought to get my bras and panties off of the drying rack in the living room before he gets here. Can't be having my clean laundry spread around the complex!

Today

Today I...

• talked to my Pop... he's still very painful, but doing much better, thank you.


• talked to my Mom... she's tired, but feeling optimistic, thank you


• talked to another favorite person.


• wore my rockstar hair.


• wore my diva sunglasses.


• saw some really cool patients.


• did a shatload of paperwork.


• washed my dog.


• washed my laundry.


• made dinner... on the grill.


• watched the sun set.


• watched a rain storm on the horizon.

Now I'm having a margarita the size of my head. Don't you judge me.

Kisses until Sunday.

Update

Thanks for your prayers, good thoughts, and positive energy for Pa King's surgery.

The surgery was every bit as intricate and involved as the neurosurgeon thought it would be. Pa King made it through the surgery and recovery with flying colors! He was having some trouble with pain control afterward and told Mom (much to the amusement of the recovery nurse) that he wanted Bute, which is a horse painkiller. Before his eyes were even open, with tubes and hoses attached all over, he just wanted Mom to stand next to him so he could hold her hand. She placed her hand on his chest, he put his over hers, and felt a little better.

He's been shuffled around the hospital quite a few times while they wait for a bed on the neurosurgery unit to open. (Apparently the guy in the room he was to get was held overnight again, so Dad won't get the room until tomorrow.) Mom is very pleased with the consistency of attitude of the staff, from nurses to housekeepers. She said they are the most pleasant, helpful staff she's been around, from the person who helped her figure out the coffee machine in the cafeteria (not so easy as "lift and pour") to the man who ran to open a door for her while she carried things into the hospital. I can not express enough gratitude for these people who are taking such good care of my parents.

When Dad woke up, he looked at Mom and said "I think they cut off my neck."
Very close, Poppy, very close.

Keep your fingers crossed for his PT tomorrow!

And thanks to the CEO, who has given us this.

Good luck, Poppy!

May the neurosurgeon's hand be steady, and the anesthesiologist's breath good. (Those guys get awfully close to your face.)

To help the surgeon along, I'm wearing my power-pink Danskos and my Supergirl underpants. Yes, seriously. Kesha may be right, the shoes may be too powerful for me, but I'm guessing that kind of power is right up a neurosurgeon's alley.

Dad's surgery started just around 8... a little late according to the plan, but right on time as far as hospital schedules go. He should be out of recovery within about 8 hours. I'll keep you posted.

Are those flashing lights, or are you just happy to see me?

As the workday was wrapping up a storm blew in. The Bossman had ridden his bike to work, so I gave him a ride home. As I pulled out of the parking lot I noticed (in the reflection of the hospital windows) that my left headlight was out. Now, I have tried to replace the bulb, but it's not the bulb. There's a loose wire somewhere in the harness. If I stick my hand in and jiggle the harness just so, the loose wire will reconnect and the light comes on. That seems to last a few hundred miles, then the wire comes loose again. Rinse and repeat.

So, back to the story. When I noticed the headlight was out I said to Bossman, "Right, like I'm getting out to jiggle the light while it's pouring down rain and lightning is crashing!" I drop Bossman off, and head to the post office. I had gone about 3 blocks when I pass one of Alliance's finest. Now, it must have been a slow day at Carhenge, because in a heartbeat that boy had his lights on and was u-turning to chase me down. I am laughing at the fact that I'm being pulled over for the headlight being out while it is POURING down rain.

The officer takes my license (from Colorado), vehicle registration (from Alaska), and insurance card (from Virginia). He asks if Tough Lucy Dodge is a rental car. I explain to him how I came to have a license, registration, and insurance from different states. I explain about the loose wire. He asks how long I'm going to be in Alliance. Keep in mind, it's still pouring rain and flashing lightning. Oh, and he doesn't have rain gear on, either.

So he runs all of the information and gives me an "order for repair" to have the headlight fixed. I thank the officer and apologize that he had to pull me over on such a nasty afternoon. He says not to mind, he likes the rain. (I'd like to call bullshit at this point because it was cold and raining really hard.)

When I got home I took a good look at my "order for repair". If called into court, I'd get off on multiple technicalities...

1. My listed address is 1/2 of my address from Colorado, and the rest is Alliance, NE. That street doesn't exist here. (Keep in mind, I had pointed out the CO license.)
2. He wrote my license plate down as being from AL. Now, he should know that AL is Alabama, Forrest. That license plate doesn't exist.
3. He wrote that my right headlight was out. I'd like to point out that my right headlight is in perfect working order. (At least I could argue that and get another 5 days to have it fixed.)
4. His name is Officer Grumbley. No shit. That has to be a joke. There can't actually be an Officer Grumbley.

I think I got pulled over by the fake Po-Po. My two main assurances that this man could not be a legit officer of the law are that A) no self-respecting cop pulls someone over in the piss-down rain for a headlight being out... especially when there are no donuts involved, and B) that name. That has to be a fake name.

The Neighborhood Watch

Have your pets ever looked at you as though you need to wear a helmet? Mine do, and they do it all the time.


Take, for instance, Oz. For more than a week I had that crazy cat tree over in the corner of the room. She completely ignored it. Then I realized how much she liked to sit at the sliding glass door and watch the birds and the neighbors. I figured it couldn't be too comfortable lying on those tracks, so I moved the cat tree to the door so she'd have a perch. The cat hasn't moved much since. She runs over to it as soon as she hears a car door shut, or if a pesky bird comes too close to our little porch.


She's like the old lady on the stoop. Pooh lies around listening for the neighborhood watch report.

Holy craptastick, Batman!

So, I've told you a little about my neighbors. They are very nice, have six kids, a cute 8 month old Boxer puppy, and the husband doesn't like it when the kid from upstairs propositions his wife. They've got it all, right?

Well, let me tell you what happened earlier this week!

Wife invited me over for a drink on Tuesday. Now, I wasn't really planning on doing much on Tuesday besides watch the Country Music Awards, so I figured, what the hell, I'll have just one. So she gets the kids off to bed, and a little while later I show up for my drink.

Bad sign #1: She's serving Miller Lite.

But, whatever. You don't turn down a free drink... most of the time. The kids are asleep, we're chatting while the CMA awards are on. The puppy (who weighs abour 60 pounds) is running around, throwing toys and playing. There are all kinds of toys being tossed around... tennis balls, ropies, plush animals, vibrators.

VIBRATORS?!?!?!

Oh ya. This one. (Now, be careful if you're clicking on that at work!) The dog throws it in the air, pushes it across the floor, runs laps around the table with it in her mouth. I snorted Miller Lite right out of my nose. Wife says, "Oh my. She thinks anything left out is her toy."

I composed myself, finished my beer, went home and had a serious talk with Pooh King about inappropriate toys. Don't you judge me.

I do hope Wife got a new toy, or there might be 7 kids next year.

Uni-May Day!!!!

It's Uni-May Day!!!

Congratulations to Peggy and Chris, who delivered Mary Lynn Baker at 3:15am. Well, Peg delivered, and, if I know Chris, he tried really hard to not pass out. She came screaming into the world weighing in at a mighty 5lbs 10 ozs.

They'll be calling her May, which makes it ironic that she was born in May, because the name and nickname were determined about 3 years ago! I've been calling her Uni since Peg's first ultrasound. The baby had her hand up at her forehead and it looked like she had a horn. "Oh my god! You're having a Unicorn!" I proclaimed. Hence, Uni. The May part got added after we knew the baby was a girl.

So congratulations, handshakes and hugs all around! I wish Nebraska was closer to Pittsburgh. I'd have jumped in the car and started driving, just like I did when Uni-May's big brother J was born. Aaaaah, the TK post-natal visit. I bring cupcakes!

Can I just say there was one pissed-off mother duck flying around the pool this morning? Poor duck was looking for the babies Spike duck-napped yesterday. I do hope they left a note, and that Spike pointed her in the right direction!

At 8:15 tonight there was a knock at my door. A little boy (about 4 years old) is standing on the other side (with his mother nearby) and promptly launches into his spiel about the product he's selling. Now, he's helping his brother (a proud member of Boy Scout Troop 344) sell various food products to raise money for Boy Scout Camp. The little boy, Seth, also hopes to some day be a proud member of Boy Scout Troop 344. All of this information tumbled out of his little mouth in about 1.2 seconds. He had thick little glasses, and the cutest smile I've seen in a long while.

So, I squatted down to inspect the catalog. Hmmmm... pizza, desserts, and cookie dough. I ask Seth what his favorite is. He points at the Key Lime Cheesecake and says, "Well, that's the only one I haven't sampled, but I would still recommend it. Everything so far has been good." I almost died. I asked his mother if he was for sale. After a few more pseudo-recommendations, he said that really his favorite was the Chocolate Chunk Cookies. Guess what I bought one box of?

While I filled out the form, Pooh showed Seth a variety of his toys. Before I could get pen to paper, Seth was throwing Pooh King's woobie all around the apartment and Pooh King was in heaven! I had to look at him and apologize for not having a 4 year old. I swear, Pooh King shook his head in disbelief. The Great and Powerful Oz hid in the closet.

Seth asked his mom if he could come back and play with the dog again. She said she didn't think so. I told him that maybe if he was my delivery boy when the cookie dough came that Pooh would be very happy to see him. He almost fell over with excitement. So did Pooh.

I need to get a 4 year old. Stat.

Does watching Extreme Home Makeover: Home Edition make anyone else want to be a better person? Week after week, I watch this show and think, "I should do more."

Raise your hand if you watched tonight. Okay, hands down. If you didn't watch, here's a synopsis:

The Jacobo family. A bi-nationality family (Mexican-American) with 4 kids. The wife's sister is abusing her children and they get taken by the state. Jesus (as in, sweet Hey-zeus!) and Michelle take in her sister's 5 kids (which includes an infant). Then they ask her father to move in to help, since now they have 9 kids. Did I mention that Michelle is a stay-at-home mom? And that they all live in a 912 square foot house? And Grandpa sleeps on the floor? And the kids give up their personal space to let their cousins stay out of the foster-care system? And the bathrooms are falling apart? Really, it's a mess.

So in rushes Ty Pennington and crew. They send the family to Ft. Lauderdale for a week while they swoop in and build a 5400 square foot home. Then some college in Missouri gives all 9 kids full ride scholarships to college. And the builder pays off the mortgage. And they give them a new truck, and Expedition and a Mustang.

Now, you know that this is a life-changing experience for this family. And you expect them to be happy. And they are. But what you don't expect is the humility and humble attitude of all of the people in the family, kids included. Jesus cries because he doesn't have to worry about how he, as the sole income-earner in the family, is going to send his 9 kids to college. Michelle cries because she doesn't have to worry that the home is unsafe. Grandpa cries because he just feels so lucky to be able to help them, and he is so proud of his girl.

I want to be a better person.

Damn ABC.

Happy Mothers' Day!

Happy Mothers' Day to all you mamas out in Bloggerville and beyond. Especially to Ma King and my Gram.

I have a card to send to each of them. They're sitting on my coffee table. I didn't get them out on time, and now the postal rates have gone up. Oh well, so much for planning, or the lack there of!

The new digs...

Oz has taken to sleeping in the closet. Of course, she wants to be right on top of the clean towels. I guess that explains all the cat hair on me after I've showered. Today I covered the shelf with her own "Oz towel" so I can keep the towels hair-free.
Here's my living room furniture. The coffee table is actually tiered and has another level. It's perfect for keeping the remote controls out of immediate site. On the other hand, it doubles up the amount of dog-hair-collection area, so I have more to dust!
I love this bistro-style dinette set! It's definitely on the list of "stuff I like enough to buy" when I settle down.
And, of course, and update on the spider bite. That little dot over the outer corner of my eye is all that's left of it. My hideously disfigured days are about over!

And now, funny things from the apartment complex:

• I have a neighbor that plays 80's metal from Friday at 5 until some time Sunday afternoon. And he plays it with pride. From my apartment (a few doors down and on the opposite side of the hall) you can hear Def Leppard, ACDC, Guns 'n Roses, etc, etc, coming full blast at all hours. I'll bet his next door neighbors want to kill him! It seems that "You Shook Me All Night Long" and "Sweet Child 'o Mine" are his two favorite songs, as you can hear them approximately 25 times each over the weekend.
• A young man from upstairs propositioned my neighbor-lady who has 6 kids. Her husband took exception to that. I found out that this is the same kid who was escorted out of a New Year's party for hiding in the bathtub so he could watch girls pee.
• I now lock my deadbolt at all times.
• And I call Pooh King "Killer".
• And I'm ready to throw my ninja cat right at his face at a moment's notice.
• The maintenance man's name is Spike.
• Spike wears a muscle shirt and white tube socks at all times.
• Spike just got done rescueing 10 ducklings from the complex swimming pool (aaaawwww), which is being prepped "for the season" I'm told.
• There is no mail drop-off point in the entire complex.
• I have another neighbor with a receding hairline mullet. He also wears Ray-bans at all times.
• There's a little girl who lives downstairs. Her cousin is the "burger-ing" kid. Anyway, I walk up the sidewalk the other day and she's drawing on her patio with sidewalk chalk. She looks at me and says "Do you like my salad?" She was drawing a salad. I bet her mom's on a diet.
• I had to start growing my own cilantro and basil, since I can never find any at the grocery store. We all know I need basil and cilantro for my Thai curry and White Girl Asian Burritos!
  

It's a solid collection of characters around here. And I, I am but one of them!

Oh sweet hey-zeus. I am going to melt out here. It's 86 degrees today. Hot, dry and windy. Honestly, I thought I would be far enough north in the midwest to avoid the billion degree meltdown of summer. I guess not. It's only mid-May.

I'll tell stories soon. I promise.

Please and thank you

Okay my people, I need a team huddle over here.

The Big Guy (aka Pa King) is going to have some serious-type spinal surgery in a few weeks. Date to be announced, but likely either the 23rd or 24th.

Could y'all throw up some prayers, positive thoughts, meditations, sacrificial lambs, a virgin... seriously, give him whatever you've got.

Keep your fingers crossed, too.

Thank you for your support.

Funny things from Alliance

Overheard in the office:

• "That's another reason why Tiffany's better than Dick." Now, you might think that's not as funny to read, but it was freakin' hysterical to overhear.
• "No, if you're a man you can't understand what it's like to have PMS. You might understand what it's like to live with a woman who has PMS, but trust me, no uterus=no knowledge of what it's like to have PMS."

What should be advertised:

• That a Mexican restaurant doesn't serve alcohol. Who eats Mexican without a margarita?

The Greek restaurant in town:

• It advertises being open 11-8, however I've only seen it open once. It was not open tonight at 7 when I was feeling lucky.
• Perhaps even more interesting is that my "lucky" feeling included eating at a fair booth that's permanently anchored in a parking lot. I think I was hoping for meat on a stick.

Baby geese are really, really cute.

Um, yeah, that's NOT me holding the baby goose. Seriously, they may be cute, but I'm afraid of them. And by them, I mean birds. Geese are birds. I am afraid.

Baby geese also gossip.
I swear, they were talking about the girl who shrieked when the mean little bastard turkey pecked her. They were hoping they'd get to goose her some day. (Oh, Tiffany that was terrible!)

I told them I'd see 'em at Christmas.

Christmas dinner.

(Of note, I know that baby geese are called goslings, but that's not nearly as cute as saying "baby geese". Goslings make me thing of Ryan Gosling, who may be a fine actor, but is missing the cute factor for me.)

as promised...

Things that make you go "aaaaaaaawwwwwww..."

Now, what's cuter than baby chickens? Not much. It is a well documented fact that I am afraid of birds. It turns out, I'm not so afraid of baby chicks. I mean, they cacn't do any harm, right? They can't even really fly.

So I touched one. Except it turns out it was a baby turkey. Those little bastards are mean. It pecked me.

I shrieked.

The nice lady who worked there came over to see what happened. I told her.

"Oh. Those turkeys are mean little bastards."

(I knew it!)

"They'll peck a weak one to death."

(They must have sensed my fear.)

(Also, by the way, those are mean little bastard turkeys in the bottom picture.)

So she made it better by showing me the baby geese.

Geese are sweet.

They nibble your fingers gently. They like shiny things. Apparently, I have an inner Goose.

(Goose! I knew it!)

Until they get bigger and will goose you right in the tush... or other places.

See? It's okay to be afraid.

I'm sorry!

I know. I know. I've been a bad, bad Blogger. I never call, I neve write...

No, wait, that's what I HAVE been doing the last few days. That, and thanking the neighbor who helped me unpack with an appropriate amount of wine. By the way, that woman has SIX children under the age of 12. She got a double dose of wine just for that!

I have pictures from my big trip to Scotts Bluff over the weekend. Okay, they're really pictures of the baby chicks and geese I saw at the farm supply store... but I touched a baby chick, and that's a big thing for a girl with bird-terror, right?

Work is going well.

I've discovered the most horrifying thing about Alliance, Nebraska.

I have to wait 5 weeks to get an appointment with the only hairdresser in Alliance that can be trusted, apparently. FIVE.WEEKS. I'm already 2 weeks overdue. There's no telling what I'll do by the time the appointment actually rolls around. I'll either shave it all off, or refuse to have her cut it as I won't be able to have a crazy little ding-ding anymore. It's hard to tell.

Pictures tomorrow. I promise!

I'll bet we can find this in Nebraska.

Copycats!!!

My former apartment-complex manager sent this to me the other day...

While looking on a website for VA tourism, look what I found! :-) See in pink:

Natural Bridge - See Professor Cline's Foamhenge, a complete replica of England's Stonehenge, but totally made out of foam! This massive masterpiece opened unofficially on April Fool's Day and ready for bus loads of tourists! Bring your camera; fool your friends!

Like anyone would go there instead of here.

I'm okay!

Seriously. This tornado/wind/storm shit is a little bit scary. Thankfully for me, though, it happened east of where I am. I'm on the far western side of the state, so all that junk last night happened well away from me. I can look east and see the edge of the storm though, and that's as close as I'd like it to get.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Pooh King and I are going searching for flying monkeys.

Since most of my patients didn't know me before the hideous disfigurement, they all pretty much think it's a permanent deformity. Very politely, no one has said a word about it.

Amanda suggested that I draw an arrow on my forehead pointing at it and writing "stupid bug."

I think I'll wait until it goes away and let the town speculate on who my plastic surgeon was.

By the way, we're having hideous thunderstorms now. So bad, in fact, that the car alarm on the jacked-up-truck in the parking lot is going off. Nice. But so far no tornadoes and no flying monkeys. Even nicer.

Shitballs, people.

They just posted a Tornado warning for my county. The wind is blowing insanely hard (even for Nebraska) and I get the funny feeling I may see a flying monkey go by at any moment.

I am talking black, swirly, fast-moving clouds, whistling wind. Scary. The locals are outside playing basketball.

If I get sucked up in the tornado, bury me in the pink Danskos... the war-weary veterans that have seen tough times. And cover up the hideous disfigurement.

Please.

Hideous!

Don't look. It's too hideous.

Did I mention that I'm hideously deformed?

I forgot to mention that I've been bitten. Seriously. Something crawled on my face last night and bit me. I'm acting like it wasn't probably a spider since I hate spiders. They've caused big trouble before.

This morning I wake up and there's a mark just at the edge of the brow bone above my left eye. There, placed slightly below my delicately crafted arch, is a red mark. And where my eyelid used to be is a fluid filled sack of flesh. And there's a hard lump under the red mark... I forgot to mention that. Seriously. I did all that I could. Ice, anti-inflammatories, antihistamines. I still looked half cro-magnon.

It went down a good bit before I got to work. I thought I looked okay. No one seemed to notice. Bossman looks right at me and says (very loudly and dramatically, by the way) "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOUR EYE?!?!?!"

Today as I'm leaving the clinic he says "I think it's getting bigger."

Don't look at me. I'm hideous!!!

I won! I won!

Okay, so I didn't even know I was nominated. And now I've won! I'm not sure what I won, but I'm sure my prize is in the mail.

Go check it out. I won for Best Stalker Blog. I'm awaiting clarification of whether I'm the stalker or stalkee. It could go either way.

Oh yeah, still no lamp. In case you were wondering.

Funny stuff, people. Funny stuff.

Here are two things that I can't get in Alliance...

1) any type of Revlon makeup, apparently.
2) A lamp (at least after 6pm)

The furniture company contracted to bring me my furnishings failed to bring a bedroom lamp. My housing coordinator called them and the earliest they can get one in is Friday. Of course, I'm working Friday, so that's not so convenient for me. Jessica offers to reimburse the cost of buying a lamp if I don't want to wait. Way more convenient for me. I head to K-Mart (my only choice since there's not even an evil Wal-Mart or wonderful Target within an hour's drive) only to find that they don't have a single lamp. Seriously. I guess I'll go during my lunch hour to grab a lamp at the appliance/home furnishings store. Good thing this place is home to Carhenge!

Yesterday morning at work was kind of a whirlwind. I arrived, got hustled through HR, and immediately had a full caseload. (That's what happens when you go to work for someone who already knows you.) I met the 2 Occupational Therapists (Laura and Nathan, by the way), the secretaries, the HR people, the Bossman's boss... blah blah blah. In the cafeteria some guy walks up to the in the cafeteria and asks me how it's going, asks about when I worked for the Bossman before. I think, "Who the hell is this guy?" But I answer the questions and go about getting my lunch, which I promptly walk back down to the office because I'm ready to chew my left arm off. I walk in, and there sits the guy from the cafeteria. I go ahead and introduce myself. He does the same. Ummm, yea. That's Nathan. The OT I already met. I had no idea.

I'm a jackass.