Chill Pills

Some people need them. Sometimes, I am some people. Let's talk about the concept of the phrase "Take a chill pill". I think the first person I heard say that phrase may or may not have been Kelly Kapowski on the 1990's super-cheesy sitcom "Saved by the Bell." Exactly what is a chill pill? Webster's Dictionary defines a chill pill as "something calming, relaxing, or reducing stress." To use in a sentence: "Wow, you just yelled at me for one minute straight. Take a chill pill." What a coincidince, I just said that exact sentence in my head to a resident's son yesterday. This man, a retired colonel (just like his father), always greets me with a side hug and a "How's my favorite lady?" when he walks in the door. We often joke. You could say we're good acquaintances. Yesterday, a new CNA was working on this hall- it was her first day passing meds and her first day on that hall. I went in early to pass meds with her. Came time to do rounds, and she went to do them while I finished her meds. After church, about an hour later, Colonel Junior comes in to get Papa Colonel, and Papa Colonel is wet. Because new CNA wasn't aware that Papa Colonel was supposed to have two attends pads on top of his brief. Which is an honest mistake, and a mistake that anyone could make, especially when new to the hall, and a little stressed under the circumstances. So instead of saying "I'm disappointed that my father is wet-" or having a mature adult conversation with me about solving a problem, he goes all "Captain Crazy" on me. Colonel Junior got in my face, and pointed his face a quarter of an inch away from my nose, and yelled and yelled. And yelled. Finally, after insulting me and making a racial slur to my coworkers, I said "you need to cool off" and we all walked out. I believe that he, at that time, needed a chill pill.

I could have used one yesterday too. That little incident got to me all day long, and I have been questioning whether or not I would actually accept an admin job, because I truly hate dealing with those kind of situations. And Alfredo was going to an important meeting, that I was a little stressed about. So, like a silly girl, I call him as soon as I know his meeting is thru. And it went really well. And I was relieved. And then he put his kids on the phone. The 8 year old wants to teach me drums. And he is excited to meet me. He even told me where he lives in case I want to play on a day when he is at his mommy's. Wouldn't that be fun. But after my long day of stress and emotions, I was given a really strong dosage of a chill pill. And I am so grateful for it.

¡Necessito Un Médico!

Which en espagnol means "I need a doctor." I have been neglecting my blog responsibilities. I need to catch up on all the latest words of all my blogging buds, because I have no idea what is going on outside of the last crazy week of my life. I don't mean to be selfish. Just am a little preoccupied. With a man. And boy is he great. The long and short of it is- I have a 37 year old boyfriend- and I think he really likes me! :o) I don't really know what to say, I think about him and I blush. And I know that we have all spent the last years of our friendship making fun of girls like me. But I can't help it! I'm giddy. And today, I bought a set of Spanish scriptures. Because he's teaching me Spanish. And I know that it's all a bit disgusting- and I even feel a little bit sappy- but he's pretty freakin awesome. And I'm pretty freakin happy. I'm just holding on to this rollercoaster I'm on- he's moving a little faster than I'm used to. But he's 37, and he's been married before. And I'm really ok with that. I'm gonna stop now.

Obrigato, Hallelujah!

Brazilian food is good. Argentinian man is better.

Baby's Got Sauce

And his name is Alfredo. Yes, another small entry about this Argentinian amour of mine. He is beatiful. And he got my numba off the schedule and called me for a date yesterday. I had just woken up from a nap, and called Christin, and my call waiting was an unknown number. To my surprise, it was Alfredo. And he asked me if I would like to go out sometime. He said he has never been on a date in America, and he's not sure how its done, but he thought dinner might be nice. So as a result of this fun phone call, he is picking me up Saturday at 7. Three of my favorite things ever said:

"I know I'm a lot older than you, but I don't mind if you don't."

and

"I don't think you're supposed to say over the phone, but I really like you a lot and I want to know you better."

and

"You made my week!"

For the record, he is 37. Not 67. And he has two boys, ages 8 and 6. And he is gorgeous. I would like to advise all readers and friends, find yourself a foreigner. They do things a little bit differently than we Americans. It's kind of nice for a change.

Fanny

Some think of "Fanny" as a nicer word for buttocks. i.e. "Josh, when you're in the car, you need to sit on your fanny and stay buckled in." (Actual sentence said by actual family member) I, until today, have thought of Fanny as Barbra Streisand's character "Fanny Brice" in the beloved musical "Funny Girl." I love that movie. But now, Fanny has new meaning. Fanny is a sweet little old woman of 72 pounds. And she makes my day every day when I go in her room and she sits up and kisses me on the cheek. She's always happy to see me. And I love that. And for the record it's not those kisses that you really don't want. She's a clean lady. And she smells like flowers. All that said, Fanny, I think you're so great. And as I've said before, if there was a way for me to share my weight with you, I totally would. Remember to use your walker. Thank you, Fanny. Thank you.

I'm workin' heeeah!

To all of you family members of the present and future:

On behalf of the entire health care field, I would like to invite you to contemplate the situation your mother/father may be living in now. I know that you have spent the last 60 years or so with your mother/father. He/she raised you, helped you with homework, made your dinners, made your dress for your high school prom, maybe even walked you down the aisle. No doubt he/she has been your hero over the years, and you want the best for your beloved parent. Believe me, we as health care workers want the same. Let's discuss this idea of "the best."

When Mother turns 93, and sadly, on her 93rd birthday, she has bronchitis and may sound as though a fluid-filled lung may fly out of her throat at any time; her birthday party may not be her first priority. Though I'm sure she kicked her heels up in her day, right now it would be best for her to stay in her recliner and sleep rather than raise a glass to "For She's a Jolly Good Fellow." It's not a personal insult. You are a fine daughter/son. And yes, I'm sure there were far too many dishes to wash and cakes to bake for her to even think about a nap. But trust me, she's tired. And she's 93. It's fine.

Another concern is to the family members considering putting Father on hospice. Hospice is for those who are declining due to serious illness. Serious illness is not, however, forgetting where he put his glasses when he went to bed. His memory may slip now that he's in his 80's. I'm 25 and I forget to turn the stove off sometimes. I'm not on Hospice. It's fine.

My final, yet most crucial concern is that of patience. Yes, breakfast starts in ten minutes. Yes, Mother's aide has not been in to see her. And yes, Mother needs her blood sugar taken before she eats. I know that you see all these things because you have been staying with mother for one month now. But what you do not see is that Mother's aid has been cleaning the remnants of a colostomy bag off the bathroom wall for the last 25 minutes, people in the dining room have been yelling randomly for the last hour that it "cold as hell in here" as I sweat bullets because a woman on Alfredo's hall doesn't want a man to help her so I have to run up and down the stairs every 3 minutes because she forgot her sweater, can't get the tangle out of her hair, her brief is on too tight, and then she forgot to give me a candy bar (but the small size because I "look like I'm watching my weight"); and now I have found the strips for your mother's glucometer after asking 4 times for them-and the glucometer has a dead battery. Yes, Mother needs help. But so do 47 other people in this building- and that is NOT INCLUDING ME. So next time you think to complain to either aide or administrator, remember that these people, your friends in the health care field, usually don't get breaks. We work thru the night, and wake up very early to wipe Mother's butt and make her bed. So though we may look very nice in our coordinating scrubs and our stethoscopes around our necks- remember that today at sometime, for someone somewhere, the shit may literally be on the fan.

Yours Sincerely,
Sarah, CNA

Alfredo is Saucy

So I trained a man from Argentina today. His name is Alfredo, and BOY IS HE HOT! For kicks and giggles, fast forward thru a first date, functional relationship, falling in love, and beautiful wedding- we would have really cute kids. We all know how I feel about foreigners and sorts of dark-skinned men.

All this talk about alfredo is making me hungry. Time to go grocery shopping.

Bored stiff.

What was I doing 10 years ago?
1. High school theatre
2. Playing the piano for 3 choirs
3. I was in love with Anthony Schneider.
4.
5.
What are 5 things on my to do list
1. Go to the post office
2. Clean my room
3. Go to the gym more than once a week
4. Hang up my curtains
5. Pay my bills

What are my favorite snacks?
1. fresh pineapple
2. girl scout cookies
3. no-bake cookies
4. canteloupe
5. grapes and cheese


What would I do if I was a millionaire
1. pay off my school loans
2. pay of mom's house
3. take the fam somewhere awesome
4. take the friends somewhere awesome
5. put some in a trust fund for the future chillin's future

Places I have lived
1. Bellevegas, IL
2. Logan
3. Wilminton
4. Logan
5. Sandy

Jobs I have had
1. "Personal Assistant" to a lawyer. Yeah, it sucked.
2. Piano teacher
3. Student Director of a choir
4. Accompanist
5. Waitress
6. CNA

8 TV shows I love to watch:
1. How I Met your Mother
2. Grey's Anatomy
3. The Office
4. Veronica Mars
5. Friends


8 things I am looking forward to:
1. figuring out my next 5 year-future
2. getting out of debt
3. meeting a nice man
4. dating a nice man
5. hopefully not being dumped by that nice man
6. getting a dog
7. having a kid
8. seeing my family

8 things on my wish list:
1. record some music i've written
2. money
3. vacation
4. a guitar-playing boyfriend
5. a happy ending (i stole that answer jill:o)
6. sing in a lounge/bar
7. that i could decide what i want
8. we could all get along

8 things that happened yesterday:
1. I worked
2. Watched a lot of tv
3. went to institute
4. had a spicy quiznos sandwich
5. laughed
6. got smacked on the butt
7. learned that my friend looks like a bank robber
8. talked to becca

Life and Death

Pardon the point-blank. The past few years, I have learned a lot about life. I've learned a lot about this life, and the next life. I've found lots of spiritual truths by reading the scriptures, going to church, praying. . . and not-as-spiritual truths by going to college, living with different people, testing my limits, and spending lots of time sitting on a big black leather couch. All these things have taught me a few things:

1. There is a great big plan that we do not understand fully. We only see a miniscule segment- barely a puzzle piece.

2. Life goes on. Here on earth, and after we die. We never stop learning from it, and continue to learn after we leave this place.

3. The Lord sends us "back-up" so to speak. He makes sure we have lots of people to love and be loved by.

4. I have abandonment issues. Always have. (This one, I learned from the big leather couch, not the scriptures.) Probably always will. But I was always a little on the grateful side, dark and twisty as it may be, that I can easily direct all my anger and frustrations about life in general towards one man. I can pin-point "Oh, I feel this way about this because my dad left when I was 17." Or "I have trouble trusting people--it's only because my dad left." It works for everything. It's my crutch. And I keep trying to throw it away. Just every little while, I crawl around looking for it, until I find it. And it takes so much energy to use it. And I shouldn't have to. I should be healed.

I had a few reality checks this weekend. One of them was conference. The general feeling for me was best stated by the late prophet Gordon B. Hinckley when he said "It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out." I felt like the Lord was just telling me to keep going, serve others, be happy. Life is good. And it is.

The other check was last night. Went with the bishopric to see a girl in our ward. Her mother passed away on Sunday. I walked in the house and gave her a hug. She was smiling, and seemed so grateful that "the suits" had come for a visit. She just kept saying "I'm doing ok" and "She's in a better place." The home was so peaceful feeling. Almost like the mother had everything "in order" before she left. The whole time I was there, I could hardly keep from crying. And how selfish of me! I just kept thinking about my stupid crutch. I looked at her, and I felt angry. I thought about, despite the wonderful conference talks, how hard life is. I thought about how bad it hurts when your boyfriend breaks up with you, how stressful money can be, being exhausted from school. And then I thought about how fun it is to like a boy and talk about him, funny stories that happened from work, and birthday cards. . . and I felt so angry. Because I get to tell my mom those things. And there are so many people who don't. I am friends with many of them. And one day, I will be one of those people too. I left in awe of this girl's faith in God. I remembered her selflessness, her kind eyes, and her happiness for her mother. I left wanting to thank God for his plan, and for all of the guidance we receive. I left thinking of my many friends who have lost loved ones, and their strength and faith. I left feeling more inadequate, and more grateful than I've ever felt.

"And, if you keep my commandments and endure to the end you shall have eternal life, which gift is the greatest of all the gifts of God." DC 14:7

The Scotsman, The Good Lord, and Salmon

How I do miss putting my hands up with my Aggie family, and "milking the cow", I am speaking about an actual Scotsman. From Scotland. His name is Ken, and he's just a doll. I met him at my old work almost 2 years ago, and he and his wife Shirley, and me and my girl Kelli really hit it off. Ken and I have been emailing back and forth, and he came into town last week to visit Rely and Josie. I took him from his hotel in SLC to Logan, and found that he is quite the religious man. Our hour and a half drive to Logan consisted of lots of stories about "God's Word" and "Praise the Lord", etc etc. It's so cool that he is that enthusiastic about his faith in the Lord. He likes to talk. Well, last night, Kelli and I drove up to Logan to have dinner with Ken. We went to the Bluebird, where he told Kelli about "God's Word" and "Praise the Lord" etc. Kelli and I were quite parched from our long and hot drive, and as soon as they brought out the soup and rolls, we were stuffing our face, and no doubt, praising the Lord for water. And just as I was finishing up my roll, Ken said "Should we say a blessing over the food?" and Kelli and I looked at each other--he had just finished asking us what church we belonged to- and then we don't say a prayer before we eat. What a terrible example, and an awkward moment! But then he DID pray over the food, very enthusiastically, and let's just say it was like when you get the giggles in church and you can't quite hide it. I couldn't tell you why it was so funny. I was just so embarrassed that he had to suggest it, and B)that I was laughing. (But it is STILL funny) Maybe you had to be there. I'm all about praying before I eat-- it's just that I usually don't vocally in a restuarant. It's just the area and the culture. Boy, was that good salmon.

Ken got us each a keychain from Scotland. He's just the sweetest man. He talked about a woman he once knew who has passed away from cancer. He alluded to the theory of being "saved". He said "I knew she hadn't learned God's word, and I didn't want her to go to Hell, so I wanted to teach it to her." or something to that effect. I was just thinking a lot last night about my Savior, and my Heavenly Father. And I just know that there is so much more than that. A sweet woman, dying of cancer, raising 2 kids by herself. . . Heavenly Father is not going to send her to Hell because she hasn't read the Bible before she dies. He loves His children too much for that. Ken and I will have some good letters to write. I hope.

On a lighter note, today at work:

I met the owner. He's attractive, flirtatious, and old enough to be my father. Hmm.

We were short this morning, meaning between the hours of 6am and 8am, there were a total of 2 people to wake up/change the whole building. Re-freaking-diculous.

I went to wake up this nice old man for breakfast. He rolls over, says "Hi doll" and grabbs my crotch. All I could muster was "NOT APPROPRIATE!" then I ran out of the room.

I really really like the people I work with. That makes all the hell "dealable".

Boys with the same name

I think you all know what name that name is, too. I don't even have to say it. A homosexual boy, make that two homosexual boys, an arrogant one, and a really really hot one. I have been at least pseudo-infatuated with all, minus the arrogant. And one of them called me last night. For the first time in a while. While he is the really really hot one, a girl could argue that he was also both arrogant and homosexual as well. . . but that's really not true. And now, after an hour long conversation and some fond reminiscing, we're roadtripping to Lake Powell for some adventuresome times. I'm looking forward to it---in a "what are you doing?" sort of way.

Yes, I wrote the previous entry twice. It wasn't posting, so I tried again. I guess it did post, just didn't show it till later. I feel like I'm back in high school, getting all giddy over NSYNC. By the way, a girl I met at work today didn't know "Bye Bye Bye" on the radio. I said "You don't know this song? It's NSYNC" and she said "How old are you?" !!!! I didn't realize they were THAT long ago. And EVERYONE knows, or at least has HEARD "Bye Bye Bye." Maybe not. But I'm twenty-five, thank you. On my way to "thirty, flirty, and thriving." All that aside, I won a "hard to find concert of Gavin DeGraw DVD" on ebay. I'm thinking now that it may be a pirated copy. But hey, it will fill the very large, very hormonal void.

The other night, a girl came over to our house. She just turned 23, and she made a list of 24 things to do before I turn 24. That's ambitious. I could make a "30 things to do before I'm 30" list. But that just makes 30 a little too close. . . "Bye Bye bye. . . "

Freakin Follow Through

Thank you Gavin DeGraw. Thank you for putting every emotion I've ever had about relationships/boys/dating into one really great song. And thank you for singing that song on Saturday night at your concert. Thank you for choosing to play in the smallest venue in the Great Salt Lake area so that I could buy a ticket for 25 bucks and still stand 4 people away from the front. Thank you for wearing that tight-fitting gray t-shirt and strutting your very attractive self all over the stage. Thank you for doing push ups in your free time-they're really paying off. Thank you for putting glitter on your piano. It looks really awesome! Thank you for singing "Thank You". But most of all, thank you for so frankly saying "Oh, since you wanna be with me, you have to follow through with every word you say. And I, all I really want is you, for you to stick around. I'll see you every day. But you'll have to follow through."

I have spent most of my teen/young adult years feeling exactly that way, about many different people. And now, as I am moving through my mid-twenties, I would like to suggest a 3rd verse, or perhaps a second bridge to this song. Something to the effect of "If you don't wanna be with me, grow a pair and say so. Cuz I, I really wanna be with you, but I also value my time so if you please, follow through or go away."

I also would enjoy a song about how "Friends can call each other on the phone" or maybe "A friendship consists of two people, not just one." Even "Boys and girls can be friends too." Whatever you feel creatively inclined to do. Rock on Gavin. Rock on.

Freakin Follow Through

Thank you Gavin DeGraw. Thank you for putting every emotion I've ever had about the opposite sex into one really great song. Also thank you for coming to the smallest venue in the Greater Salt Lake area so I could buy a ticket for 25 bucks and stand four people away from your stage. Thank you for wearing that tight-fitting t-shirt and strutting your very attractive self all around the stage. Thank you for doing push ups in your free time. They're really paying off. Thank you for putting glitter on your piano-it looks cool. Thank you for singing "Thank You" at your concert. But most of all, thank you for saying every so frankly saying
"Oh, if you wanna be with me you'll have to FOLLOW THROUGH with every word you say. And I, all I really want is you-for you to stick around. I'll see you every day. But you have to FOLLOW THROUGH."
I have felt that way through most of my teenage/young adult years. And now, as I'm moving my through my mid-twenties, I'd like to request a new verse, or perhaps a second bridge to this song. It should say something to the effect of "if you DON'T WANT to be with me, don't say that you would like to do something this weekend. I don't like feeling confused, and I don't like wasting my time. So if you don't want to follow through, then just go away."
And if you could also write a song about the meaning of "I'll call you on Friday"/"friends can call each other on the phone" that would be great too. Rock on.

Joe Black

Today, I was doing rounds at 6a.m. Opened to door to "Oscar's" room to find his wife sleeping on the floor and a lady relative in his bed, while he is sleeping in the chair. I had read his MAR and found that he is to have morphine every 2hrs, so I went to get it, came back and his wife was awake. We've bonded over the last few weeks, and I just love her. We'll call her Betty. Betty says that Oscar has been very "phlegmmy" through the night. Then she said it wasn't constant, just every now and then, like he needs to cough. I, knowing that Oscar has been declining quite quickly, and being on his last leg so to speak, I thought this could be more than just phlegm. And sure enough, there it was: my very first aural experience with the "death rattle". Oscar began to breath heavily, his inhalations making sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard, only magnified 20 times. What do you say to the wife? I told her that this is called chayne stokes breathing, and it was a sign that oscar is getting ready to go. She hugged me. I checked back in a little while and found his whole family kneeling around him, crying.

I'll write more about my experience with this family. I don't have enough time right now. But I'll just say, I can't get the sound out of my head, and I know that Joe Black is still lurking around B hall. . . waiting for Oscar.

Oh well I never, was there ever?

For those of you who grew up listening to Andrew Lloyd Webber's CATS, you will now have that single line of that magical song play through your head for the next seven hours.

Last night, Jill and I, after a riveting Mary Kay facial party, got all gussied up in black dresses, and hopped Trax to the Capitol Theatre, where our 25 dollar tickets bought our way into a magical land, where the starry skied stage filled with larger-than-life-sized garbage and car parts brought back old "memories" (bah-hah) of my childhood. Back then, not only did I know what a jellicle cat was, but I also wanted to BE a jellicle cat. Though this is a bit embarrassing, I used to try to teach myself the dances, and I was so enthralled at watching how catlike their movements were. I would rewind and replay the Jellicle Ball, dreaming that one day, I too, would dance and sing about the Heavyside Layer.

We often laugh at CATS. How is a play where humans dress up like felines and sing and dance and steal things so popular? Well, the answer is, it's just entertaining. Though very long in parts, it really is a moving work of art. The music is just soooo good. And by the end, you just want to be up there on the stage, raising your paw above your head, singing "Up up, up, to the heavyside layer. . . " So in conclusion, good job Andrew Lloyd Webber. And you really should have told Jason Castro to sing something from Joseph instead of Memory. What were you thinking?

Tylenol Cold and Flu

I am a wee bit under-the-weather. The folks in the library keep looking at me-my smokers cough is loud enough to scare the sleeping baby a few computers down, and I've already gone through a whole travel-size pack of kleenex. I am on my way to the store, where i will buy Puffs with lotion, Tylenol Daytime Relief, cough drops, orange juice, and as if that weren't the most pathetic- a box of tampons.

So much to learn, so little time.

You know, some days, it just seems so much more obvious to me what a great man Jesus Christ was. He was completely perfect. He was completely selfless. I went last night to our "ward ministry", and it was just so great to be thinking of others for once instead of myself. I need to work on that, especially at my job. A lot of things happened over the last 36 hours, and it's got me thinking. . . I've got a lot to learn.

No, I will not come in to work.

My schedule is Tuesday thru Saturday, 6-2. I have worked these days from 6 to 3, so please do not call me at 7 a.m. on monday, asking me to come in because you don't have a med-aid. I will be at work tomorrow, and i will work thru Saturday. I am allowed 48 hours where I do not have to be called names, spit on, hit, slapped, bruised, etc. Perhaps this is a bad attitude, but frankly, it is my day off. And I will not come in.

The New Girl in Town

Even though "Hairspray" makes it sound so glamourous and mysterious, really-being the new girl in town just makes a girl feel ridiculous.

So I got a new J-O-B, and it's KILLING ME! I actually am catching on quite quickly, seeing as though my first day was Monday, and I have finished my third shift, being trained one day as an aide and one day as a med-aid. Today I was by myself working one hall and passing all the upstairs pills. I have been punched in the face (Yeah, that was my first day),slapped, called a slut by a man who was trying to de-pants me while I was showering him, kissed, hugged, and asked if I was the sister of "Mexi-Russ"--- AND today I gave 3 people morphine and methadone! I worked from 6 to 2:30 today with no break. And really, I quite like being busy- I don't mind not having down time because it makes the day go crazy fast. But I would like to not feel so behind all day long. More later. Must buy Gavin Degraw tickets.

Mem'ry all alone in the moonlight i can smile at the old days. . .

I HATE THAT SONG.

This sounds like fun.

1. As a comment on my blog, leave one memory that you and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember!

2. Next, re-post these instructions on your blog and see how many people leave a memory about you. If you leave a memory about me, I'll assume you're playing the game and I'll come to your blog and leave one about you. If you don't want to play on your blog, or if you don't have a blog, I'll leave my memory of you in my comments.

3 more and tag! you're it!

I tag Christin, Meg, Elise, Kelly and Jill. I'll write 3 more later. I'm tired and I need a nap.

So many imperfections

The RULES

1. Link the person who tagged you... Jenny
2. Post these rules.
3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours.
4. Tag 6 fellow bloggers by linking them.


6 unspectacular quirks. Hmm. I know I annoy the crap out of people, and myself, and I'm thinking very hard about why.

1. I eat disturbingly fast. I think it came from being in grade school. We often would only have 10 minutes to get thru the line and to eat everything before we went outside for recess. Those nuns would rush us, almost like a little Catholic boot camp, leaning over our shoulders, verbally shoving spinach down our throats. I try not to be unruly in restaurants. I try to sit up straight and put my fork down between each bite. But often times I find myself hunched over my plate, trying to scarf down everything I can before the mean Sister Prudence with 6 fingers comes and takes my sandwich away because everyone else is outside. Ok, that can't happen anymore, because I'm 25, and because I believe Sister Prudence is dead.

2. I should have named this one first. I snort when I laugh. Some find it endearing, I find it humiliating. It always happens at horrible times. Like for instance, the other night we went to see "Get Smart", which is one of the funniest shows ever made. Within the first 5 minutes, I am laughing really hard, and it gets really quiet. Then. . . "Snort." Of course, when no one else is laughing, and the whole audience burst into laughter. At me. It happens all the time, at the movies, in the grocery, at restaurants, in church. . . how sad. So please be kind to those who snort. They can't help it, and it's hard enough living with yourself when you make pig sounds.

3. I fall asleep during movies. It doesn't matter if it's 3:00 in the afternoon or at a midnight show. Sit me down in a dark room, give me two minutes, and I'm gone. I slept thru most of "James Bond 007". In the theater. Have you seen that? It's LOUD. I also missed a very important half hour of Pirates of the Carribean II. I know, I put a damper on the fun. I always used to make fun of my Grandma because the minute she would sit down, her chin would drop. I'm 1/3 her age, and I do the same thing.

Why so serious?

Who saw Batman this weekend?

It was pretty much the weekend of movies. Saw Batman with a girl from work. Rest in peace, Heath Ledger. Then we went to the cheap movie on Saturday and saw Indiana Jones. It was pretty good. I hate snakes. And last night, watched Braveheart for the first time ever. It was edited, and I was glad. But what a crazy-sad movie. Aw, poor William Wallace. Aside from the weekend of movies, yesterday I wrote letters. I played the organ. I accompanied the choir. Made some blueberry muffins (which were quite good) and I talked to Aunt Meg. It was a good day. I finally wrote Maureen a nice little letter, hopefully she thinks it's nice.


Anyway, I am antsy today, and it was a crappy day at work. And I get to go back to train. Here is one example of the crappiness that went on:

Resident "Bob" never wants anything to drink at lunch time. I took his order, and went to get his salad off the front table when he yells "Hey!" I turn around to see him holding up his glass. I said "Oh, 'Bob', you want some water today?" and I began to pour water into his glass. He yelled "NOOO!" and dumped the glass of water onto the table.

I am unable to keep my mouth shut anymore, so I said "Now, was that really necessary?"

My last day is August 12. It almost can't come soon enough.

Happy Penelope Day!

After a grueling 4month wait, my favorite movie has finally come out on DVD! For those of you who haven't seen this yet, DO!! It's really cute and funny, and there's a good message! If these things are not incentive enough, I have posted this nice picture.

Sing me a song

So I saw Jill's blog about songs of her summer. And I liked it. So I stole it.

1. "You Learn" by Alanis Morissette: I find myself humming this quite often. I'm a big fan of Alanis. She's like your basic "super-chick". And she dated hot Ryan Reynolds. Hollah!
"I recommend getting your heart trampled on to anyone. . .Wait until the dust settles"

2. "Picture to Burn" by Taylor Swift:
"I hate that stupid old pickup truck
You never let me drive
You're a redneck heartbreak
Who's really bad at lying
So watch me strike a match
On all my wasted time
As far as I'm concerned you're
Just another picture to burn"

Need I say more? Probably not.

3. "Untamed" by Gavin DeGraw: What do I love about this song? First of all, I love the singer/songwriter piano style of Mr Gavin. And I love his sexy voice. And this song just rocks. It's about somebody screwing with you and making you feel all tied down and crazy-like.

4. "Viva la Vida" by Coldplay: Let's be honest. I don't know what this song means. But I love the strings! And Chris Martin is just awesome.

5. "Cheers Darlin" by Damien Rice: This is kind of the song of 2008 for me. If you haven't noticed a theme-I am an angry girl. Actually, I've kind of passed the angry stage and moved myself into a nice realm of sarcasm and ridiculous laughing. But for the angry moments in life, this song is great. It reaks of that poiniant sarcasm that stings so much, but feels so good. And it's kinda blues-ey. If you're angry at someone, listen to this song.
Cheers darlin' - Here's to you and your lover boy
Cheers darlin' - I got years to wait around for you
Cheers darlin' - I've got your wedding bells in my ear
Cheers darlin' - You give me three cigarettes to smoke my tears away

What am I darlin'?
A whisper in your ear?
A piece of your cake?
What am I, darlin?
The boy you can fear?
Or your biggest mistake?

6. "The Call" by Regina Spektor: This was the song at the end of Prince Caspian. It gives me the chills. The lyrics can be very symbolic or very to-the-point. Both cases, I really like them. Kind of a nice and comforting thought when faced with change: "I'll come back when you call me. No need to say goodbye."

7. "Piece of my Heart" by Janis Joplin: Let's face it. This is the song of my life. I'm pretty sure it will be played at every major event in my life: my wedding, funeral, I will probably use that song to sing to my child in the womb and play it during childbirth.

Those of you that know me, I think you realize that I am not a hardnosed feminist-like person who hates men and wants more power. I'm not full of hatred and bitterness, and I try to be of good faith. Looking at this list, maybe not.

Here's to the men we love.
Here's to the men who love us.
But since the men we love aren't the men who love us,
Screw those damn men
Here's to us!

In the words of the Spice Girls: GIRL POWER!

Onward, pressing onward!

Holla! Who yo CNA? Dat's right-I AM! Bahahaha. I think probably the best feeling in the world is being finished with a class. Like that feeling when you finish your last final and you have the whole break. . . there's nothing like it. And that is how I feel. I have passed my CNA test, and I'm moving on the bigger and better things. Moving in hopefully the second week of August to cute Meghan's cute apartment with her cute roommates in Sandy. What a relief. I went down last Thursday and looked at the apt, and I loved it. Feel good about it. So in the words of Nelly, "Where da party at?" It's in Sandy. "Where da bacardi at?" Let's not talk about bacardi, cuz I think it sounds kinda good.

On a different note, stupid "Ike" freakin picked me up last night at choir. Not like "pick up line", but physically picked me up. He ran up to me and said "Sarah! I miss you girl!" And he picked me up. I hate when people do that. It makes me feel chubby. But really, Ike, stop touching me. You left me on a mountain, and you don't get to touch me.

List of things to do: budget this whole move thing, get me a J-O-B, make my grandma something cute and crafty for her birthday, EXERCISE OFF THE 7 POUNDS I'VE GAINED AT LAVA THIS WEEKEND.

I feel to scatterbrained to make any more sense.

I'm smart enough to be a CNA.

In fact, I have met CNA's who I really am not sure how they became CNA's. But today, I have a problem. Yesterday I had 4 problems, and I will tell you what they were. Today I have only one: I'M FREAKING OUT ABOUT MY TEST!!! It's tomorrow at 1:45. First, I take my skills test, then my written. Really, I'm not too nervous about my written test, I did really well on the final, and I've studied hard. I even made flash cards. But the skills test: it's not even that I don't understand what to do. It's NOT hard. But I HATE people watching me. And I've asked Butch to teach me the slip release knot twice, and I just can't seem to get it. I get all nervous and I just stare at the rope, like it's going to tie itself. That is my main problem today.

Now yesterday there were more problems. 1)I have attraction issues with married men. This is number 3. Now the first one was Married Chris, whom I did not know was married. . . so maybe he doesn't count. The second, being Andrew, which really wasn't my fault. He got engaged then told me he'd love me forever. Who wouldn't have issues with that? Then there was Chad at my work. And he was dangerous. We'll call him Dangerous Chad. But now he lives in Germany, and I can not feel so guilty about even speaking to him. And now, there is another. Now let me just say, I am not a homewrecker. I would NEVER EVER EVER even CONSIDER flirting or anything more than that with someone else's husband. Seriously. My morals are good, and I would never do anyone any harm. My problem is, men and women cannot just be friends. And I have a friend that I work with, and I need to quit my job. He's just too much fun. ANd he's cute in a dorky boy kind of way, and I just feel horrible that I wish he wasn't married. Because he is. Nothing tragic, just a little crush that will send me straight to hell. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's husband/wife/belongings.

Problem number 2. I DON'T KNOW HOW I'M GOING TO MAKE THIS MOVE. I need a place to live. I need someone with a truck. I need a job-which means I need to pass my CNA. Refer to today's problem.

Schadenfreude

For any of those who have seen or listened to Avenue Q, this is one of the best songs in it. It's kind of like an R-rated Sesame Street. Twisted, however hilarious and shockingly close to home. Among this song are others like "the mixed tape" where Princeton makes a mixed tape for Kate Monster. When he gives her the tape, she sings:
He likes me.
I think he likes me.
Does does he 'like me' like me,
Like I like him?
Will we be friends,
Or something more?
I think he's interested,
But I'm not sure."

Which I know that we've all said those exact words to ourselves or our friends before. Then, she goes on:

"A mix tape.
He made a mix tape.
He was thinking of me,
Which shows he cares!
Sometimes when someone
Has a crush on you
They'll make you a mix tape
To give you a clue.
Let's see...
"You've Got A Friend"
"The Theme From 'Friends'"
"That's What Friends Are For"
Shit! But oh look!
"A Whole New World"
"Kiss The Girl"
"My Cherie Amour"
Oh, Princeton! He does like me!
"I Am The Walrus"
"Fat Bottomed Girls"
"Yellow Submarine"
What does this mean?"

How confusing boys can be!! Another song that they sing on this show is "If You Were Gay". This one needs no description--you get the point. Kate Monster is my favorite character. I can relate with Kate Monster. I also enjoy Rod, who is questioning his sexuality. He reminds me of one of my ex boyfriends. Kate Monster has another quotable line in the song "It sucks to be me"


I'm kinda pretty
And pretty damn smart.
I like romantic things
Like music and art.
And as you know
I have a gigantic heart
So why don't I have
A boyfriend?
It sucks to be me!

I also really enjoy the first song mentioned, "Schadenfreude," which is German for "Laughing at other's pain." I've had this song in my head all day long, which is a bad thing, considering I work at a place where most people are in a lot of pain. And those most people, a majority of the time, really piss me off. Anyway, the moral of this pointless blog entry is simply this: Avenue Q is pretty funny. And I need to quit my job because I'm becoming a biatch.

An Independent Woman on Independence Day

All you ladies who independent, throw your hands up at me.

I was sitting in church today and listening to everyone talking about their families and celebrations and fireworks and barbeques. . . I wasn't quite prepared for church today. Not focused on anything except seeing "Ike". That is my name for the hot home teacher I spoke of before. And there were no butterflies in my stomach, only feelings of nausea.

July 3, 2008: I sat at the bottom of the canyon, called Ike to come pick me and my two friends up-as before planned. I was very nervous to meet these "loads of people" that were awaiting us. A voice answered the phone. IT was not Ike's voice. I said "Is Ike there?" The guy said "No, do you need directions?" I explained that my car would not make it up the canyon, and Ike was going to drive down and pick us up. I said I could wait for when he gets back. The guy said they'll send someone down. So we get into the car of this guy who was a mix between "I'm better than you because I drive a really nice car with leather seats" and "I don't know how to talk to people." We get up the canyon and out of the car, only to find that most people there are couples, sitting and staring at us like we have scales instead of skin. Ike finally arrived, driving a jeep with two girls whom I'm sure I would have been afraid of in high school, and he comes up behind me and rubs my shoulders saying "Glad you made it!" He hugged me, and told me to be sure to get some food. About 20 minutes later, the fireworks were about to begin, and he came over and gave us a blanket to sit on. He disappeared again and we talked to this girl who had been invited by Ike to meet Ike's friend as a blind date. WHY DID HE NOT TELL ME ABOUT THE GROUP DATE??!!!?? I'm sorry, but "Loads of people" does not say "Bring a date". Piece of crap. Anyway, the poor girl was sitting by herself. So we sat with her and chatted away. After the fireworks were over, this is my favorite part of the story--Ike comes over to ask if we enjoyed it. To tell the truth, I don't remember what I said. I'm sure it was not what I was thinking. He said goodbye, and went to load up their stuff. The girl we were sitting with drove, but she was at the bottom of this huge steep SIDE OF A MOUNTAIN, which we then decided to go down. Yes, this young man and all of his really snotty friends, knowing we had no car up here, left us to walk down this mountain in flip flops. Lucky for us, Becca had a flashlight on her keys. We crab-crawled down the rocky hillside, getting gravel down my pants and grabbing onto the brush. We heard the revving of engines and saw the trucks drive down next to us as we laid there, hoping no one sees this hilarious foolishness. It was then that one of us said "I sure hope there's no wild animals waiting to eat us" and I said "I JUST KNOW GOD WOULDN'T DO THAT TO ME RIGHT NOW!" And thank heavens He didn't. We finally made it to our car and drove home in silence. Walking in the door, Sakerra said "I don't even know what to say right now." At the time I didn't either, and really, I still don't. Except for one thing:

Next year on the Fourth of July, I'm staying home and watching a movie.

So all you ladies, who independent-throw your hands up at me. Dating sucks, hoping for dating sucks, and not dating sucks. Boys ask us to climb so many stinking mountains, and then they just leave us at the top wondering how we're gonna get down. Throw your hands up at me.

Happy Anniversary, Blind Jake

Ok, so Jake really isn't his name. But I feel like I can't really use his name-even though he would never read this. . . because he can't read the screen.

Anyway, a year ago today, I went on a date to the fireworks with a blind young man. On our first and only date, I learned how to lead a blind person thru the city of Logan without making him fall, I learned how to describe what fireworks look like, I learned that it is not romantic at all when a person feels your face and asks "What color are your eyes?" (unless I suppose, it's val kilmer) and among many other things, I learned how humiliating it is to say "That's not my shoulder" when blind jake put his hand on my. . . not my shoulder.

Oh what a night at the stadium. Ray Charles sang "America the Beautiful" as tears ran down my face- tears of humiliation and a wee bit of irony. Ray Charles was blind too.

So tonight, as I go to this social event- I will remember that no matter what goes wrong, it will not be July 3, 2007.

Blind Jake, I am sorry that I have been a coward all of these 364 days. You are a good person, and I am lacking in that department. You and Huck will find a very nice piano player. Maybe she will be flat-chested, it will save many awkward moments. Remember to be polite and ask her questions about herself. Remember to be patient with her, not everyone knows to stop before the step. Perhaps give her some simple directions to start with. She would feel badly if you were to fall. But she does not want to feel stupid. Also, on a first date, remember to be courteous of her space. She is not used to people touching her face. In any event, thank you for the memorable evening. I wish you all the best in the future. Keep playing the guitar! It's really cool! I've been trying for 4 years now. God Bless America.

I am Bridget Jones.

Over the last week or so, I've had this monster cold-flu like thing. The fevers and the chills, the coughing, the headaches. . . nasty nasty nasty. I'm all better now, but let's talk about the lack of sleep. I still can't sleep and here is why.

I AM THINKING MYSELF TO INSANITY. I dream a lot- about a lot of things. But lately, the theme of my dreams just happens to be every boy I've ever dated before. And remember the dream about Siu and my little girl? Yeah, I've had that one twice since Friday. And Andrew. . . and needless to say Kyle. Ugh, I can't take it anymore! I want to sleep- so badly that I am considering buying a bottle of nyquil for that purpose only.

Of course I prayed about all of this foolishness, and do you know what my answer is? Last night, my hot home teacher came up to me after choir, and he sat next to me on the piano bench, put his arm around me and looked at me. Now, this is a very friendly thing to do, and he's a very friendly guy. I guess I'm just trying to say that he's my friend. But of course he makes my heart go crazy. So he invites me to this 4th of July thing. It's not a date. And he could have any girl he wanted I'm sure. So I am not being silly about this, but realistically, I have a very big problem. He gets so close and so McDreamy like. And he sits there, and looks at me. And HE WON'T STOP!! I have this face that I make when I'm scared. My eyes pop out of my head, and my chin drops lower, and it's like I can't blink. So last night, when he was sitting there and looking at me (no doubt waiting for me to say something) I just sit there and fidget. And then I giggle. And heaven forbid I snort. Anyway, my point is: This is a disaster. I am pretty sure this is the Lord's way of saying, "Here, think about someone new for a bit" And I'm very grateful, but why can't I just act normal? Friday night, I am going with a friend to his little get-together and I need to able to be cute and classy, and to actually speak. And when I am around him, I don't remember how to do that. So for any of you who are reading this, on this 4th of July, when you're all with ones you love watching fireworks and putting your hand over your heart, say a little prayer that Sarah isn't putting her foot in her mouth.

I'm Going to Ireland!!

I don't know when, or with what money. But I'm convinced that I must go so I can get me an Irish man. Preferably one that plays the guitar. Preferably without a shirt. Preferably hot "living guy" in P.S. I Love You. No more chick flicks. I can't handle it.

The pic was found at http://jeffreydeanmorganfans.com/

Peed On and Pissed Off

As promised. Sometimes can't believe what happens. Before I start my story, let's review the rules of a LIBRARY! NO TALKING! When your cell phone rings, DON'T ANSWER. Actually, just have your cell phone on silent. And if your children are being loud, set an example of what an "inside voice" is. Come on people, I am trying to blog.

Ok. So my first clinical was at LNR, or Hell. So my friend Lisa and I got assigned to the same hall. She was assigned to the cool guy who resembled Adam Pascal with a pseudo-mullet. He seemed to be the anxious type who has to stay busy all the time because he has nervous energy--which can be very helpful for learning purposes. And I got assigned the the 17 year old senior in high school with boyfriend problems and a history final the next morning. You can see where this is going. Nice girl, but I did not pay 300 bucks to sit on my butt and watch you text your boyfriend and watch Lisa and "Adam" go answer the call lights that "aren't on our hall so don't worry about it. . . " Boo you whore! Here are the things that I did.

1. Within the first 20 minutes of my shift, we took a very very tall lady to the bathroom. We were going to change her pants, so I squatted down on the floor to untie her shoes. My trainer stood her up off the chair to adjust her I suppose, which is how SHE PEED ON MY SHOULDER. I don't know exactly how that happened, but it did. And it was horrible.

2. I spent the rest of my shift smelling like urine.

3. At dinner time, I fed a lady who used to be a resident at my work. She has alzheimer's and is sometimes catatonic. She was bending backwards out of her chair (For confidentiality's sake, some of you who have worked there know this woman and her daughter who might as well move in and be overly annoying and needy) Couldn't really move her. Didn't know what to do. So my trainer comes over and says, "Oh she does that. Just feed her." she sticks a bite of pureed I-don't-know-what in her mouth and walks away. I notice that "Reba" isn't taking a breath,and she's looking at me with these sad, glassy eyes. Still no breath. So I whop her on the back and she spits every bit of the already swallowed pureed crap all over my face, and in my hair. Ew. You will not die on my clinical clock.

4. (don't worry, this is only like 5 o'clock and I'm on till 10) I get back from my break and my trainer isn't there. So I go with this other girl. She needs help to change this man who is a "bit combative". I'm not going to explain what happened in this room, because it makes me feel dirty. But let's just say it may have been the grossest moment of my life.

5. After washing my face and my arms and almost vomiting, I helped this other girl put another lady to bed. This little lady was curled up in her bed, and she looked so peaceful. The other CNA said "We're gonna put your pajamas on" The lady kinda whined and when we went to roll her on her side, she went all Jackie Chan. She kicked her legs and her arms were flailing-I got smacked about 8 times and kicked in the chest two or three. Seriously? You're like 80 years old. How are you beating me up?

6. The worst part about all of this is I only got to sign off like 8 things. I went home with little accomplished, a scratch on my neck, food in my hair and pee on my shirt.

Last Thursday, I worked a clinical at Sunshine. Much better. Learned a lot. No "incidents". Though I am finding that the whole "male patient" thing bothers me a lot more that I thought it would. But all is well with the world.

67 year old boyfriend--it's SO over

Ok, so in the words of Ross Gellar, "when was it under?" Never. But here's the story anyway.

1. Last Thursday, at 8:00 in the morning, the kitchen phone rang at work. Paul was fixing a machine, and no one else answers the phone ever, so I went in the office and picked up the receiver. "Legacy House Kitchen, this is Sarah. How can I help you?" A familiar voice answered "Sarah, this is Rich, I am calling about my mother. . . " blah blah blah. I didn't really get what he was saying. Something about cupcakes and his mother's birthday. I, in a much lower voice, said "I'll make sure she gets them." He thanked me and hung up. I swore a couple times, regained strength in my legs, and told Paul that I might die today. I don't think Rich put two and two together, which leads me to a conclude one of three things:

A. He is an arse. How can he not know my voice?! Dickwad only asked me to be his WIFE. He knows I work at the kitchen of his mother's place. He is a womanizing jerk who sweet-talks young innocent women into absolute craziness. . . he did not get what he wanted from me, therefore he ignores that I exist.

B. He is schizophrenic. He forgets that I exist because he should be in a mental hospital. He has never been realistic about anything---because he does not live in reality. What recording contract? People don't propose to people they've never met. Girls like RINGS not PHONE CALLS. AND, what 25 year old wants to marry a 67 year old!! Ok, I'm sure there are some, but most of them live in California. REALITY PLEASE.

C. He is a serial killer. He is a womanizing jerk who sweet-talks young innocent women into absolute craziness. . . he has a list of women that he calls, writes, promises recording contracts, and proposes marriage to. When he doesn't get what he wants, he moves onto the next prey. . . Paul has a theory about this. A year ago, one of Norma's sons called and requested that she be removed from the diabetic diet. Paul asked the charge nurse about it, and said that basically a small amount of sugar would kill her. He's trying to off his mother!! Sooooo, maybe he DID know it was me on the phone, but he just didn't say anything because he is going to kill me. If I disappear one day, call my boss. He will know where to investigate first.

In conclusion, I believe that this man is a combination of all three: a psycho ass serial killer.
For the record, we delivered Norma's cupcakes, and a sugar free piece of cake, so she could enjoy her 93rd birthday in her moo moo, watching soap operas, and not being killed by her horrible son. We even sang. I saw a huge bouquet of yellow roses sitting on her table with card in front saying "I love you Mother.--Rich" Yellow roses are signs of peace, you bastard.

My next blog- "My first clinical: Peed on and pissed off." Now, I get 5 cavities filled.

My 67-year-old Boyfriend

. . . is possibly coming tomorrow. Ok, so without explaining the entire story in this blog (partly because it makes me ill, partly because it is very embarrassing) I have a skeleton in my closet. The long and short of it, had a summer letter-writing fling with an older man. When I think older, I think like 30-40,ok 50 at the MOST. (We all know I've been holding out for an older man) No no no, he was 67. I kindly explained to him, having learned his age, that he was a dear FRIEND to me, and I enjoy our FRIENDship, hope we can still be FRIENDS. . . then he asked me to marry him over the phone on Christmas Eve.

ANYWAY---I have reason to think in the past few months that he very well may be schizophrenic. . . bipolar. . . whatever you want to call it. My 67 year old boyfriend is psycho. The last letter I received from him was in Februaryish, and it scared the socks off of me. So I have not written/called him since-and he's coming to my work tomorrow for his mother's birthday. Yes, his mother lives at my work. Don't ask questions. I don't want to talk about it. SOOO-I told my boss today that if this man shows up, I am leaving. And he understood. Because I'm 25, and I don't want a 67 year old boyfriend.

Small Accomplishments

Well, how excited am I to log onto my blog and find comments from friends. Yes, I can work my blog. So today, it will rain. I can smell it. And I love it. I'm praying for thunder. I was thinking we skipped spring and jumped right into summer, but maybe Cache Valley will get a storm before the hot summer nights are here to stay.

I am in the library and there are two children out in the hallway, barking. I wish they would stop. . . . this past weekend was just wonderful. It was full of some of my favorite people. (Honestly, where is their mother?) Somedays, I just really wish we could go backwards. We're not supposed to want that. Walt Disney makes movies about that. "Just keep swimming" and "keep moving forward" and "move along" (so that wasn't disney, that was AAR) remind us to reach for the stars, to live the impossible dream, and all that other crap. . . Oh all those things are good. And I know it's important to keep growing. But how comfy it is to sit across the table from people you know and love, whom you feel safe with and loved by! We all reach a point in life when we need change and welcome new things. I feel that now. I have so many opportunities coming up. I can move to SLC, I will get a new J-O-B, and meet all kinds of new people (including my 2 men/week). Clearly these are good things. And in preparing for all these things to happen, I really just want to crawl in my bed at Brooklane, knowing that my roommates are outside drinking fruity drinks or writing papers, or having dance parties- and wake up the next morning at 6 for work, where I know I can do the job, and the people I work with like me. I want to go back to the place where it was o.k. to be single, and even though ron was a nun - I still truly believed it wouldn't be long before I would meet my "true love". I want to go back to 22, and Final Warning, to cheap gas and drives to Idaho. I want to go back to before I knew Kyle. Strange that my weekend in Salt Lake, as fun as it was, really just made me homesick for 'before'. But, everything happens for a reason. And what was "before" is a huge part of me "now". I'm grateful for my life and the people in it. I'm grateful for the good stories I have and for good people to share them with. So for all those from "before"---here's to new babies, new jobs, traveling, nursing licenses, finishing school, new hot haircuts, etc. . . thanks for hanging around. Love you.

Stop the maddness!!

It feels like I haven't slept in ages. I broke a nail at work. It broke because I dropped a stack of 10 plates. Does anyone know what that sounds like? It's very loud. But how proud am I? I didn't swear when I did it! I said "Dang it". Really. It has been a week of training new people, working as a cook, flashing parking lots, learning about pressure ulcers, cleaning up vomit, talking to old friends, snow in April, eating nothing nutritious, and longing for a nap.

Found out last night that one of my very dearest friends a from a few years back, has cancer. Talk about shocking. Kind of a testimony that the Lord hands out tough stuff to his strong ones. This person is one of the strongest, happiest, most Christlike people I have ever known, and it breaks my heart to know that he must be suffering so much. Even though medicine these days can do so much, and maybe "it could be worse", but really, when it comes down to it, what a heavy cross to carry. It really put things into perspective for me.

So today, before I go home and take my nap, I wanted to start my blog. And I wanted to start it off by saying that life really is--in spite of vomit, lack of sleep, weight fluctuation, being overworked and underpaid, missing the good old days, and unfortunate embarrassments--pretty damn wonderful.