shopping saturday

Who: You

What: Whatever you want.

When: Whenever

Where: You tell us.

Why: Because I can't think of anything to write about.


Here's the game. You have $500 (or the equivalent) and you have to spend it all in one store. Which store would it be? And why?


I'd go for Target myself. Not too exciting, I know, but what don't they have at Target? (We have a Super Target, so we even have one of the best grocery stores in town, too). It's one of those places where you go in to buy one specific thing and walk out a hundred bucks down.


Five hundred wouldn't even be a challenge.

not a happy camper

We are about to get slammed...

the fat lady sings

Well, the paperwork is at the lawyer's and today I'll get together with her to go over everything. If all goes well - and there's no reason to think it won't - our divorce will be final in August. To prove that the cosmos has a sense of humor, these are the songs I heard on the way home from dropping everything off:


Everybody Hurts, by REM
and
It ain't over til it's over, by Lenny Kravitz


While it feels like this drama has been going on for half my life, it's hard to realize that this has all happened since the beginning of January. Man. It's been a long five months.


But oddly enough, it's another REM song that's on my brain right now:


It's the end of the world as we know it...


and I feel fine.

the Hollywood Sequel

Okay, I'm knee deep in divorce/financial paperwork that has to be done by tomorrow and I've just gotten home from a twelve hour shift and it's thundering and lightning to beat the devil so...




Blame Rudee's comment and an email from my two cents, but let's continue on with the theme from yesterday. Who would play your significant other in that Hollywood Blockbuster? You can go with either your real honey or the honey of your dreams.


Mine?


Oh, come on...

in the movies

If Hollywood made a movie of your life, who would be the perfect actor to play you?


I'm serious. Who would portray you? We could even do it two ways - who should play you and who would you like to play you? This could be interesting - to read how all of our blog buddies see themselves.


I'll start. Why not?


I see myself as a Sandra Bullock type. Kind of goofy, kind of funny and the perpetually twisted girl next door.



On the other hand, if you de-glamorize Diane Lane and frump her up a bit (or a lot), I could see that, too. The coloring is spot on. And that's a stinkin' cute dog.






And someone at work is convinced I look like Elizabeth Mitchell, who plays Juliet in Lost. He's pulled lots of other people into his little warped reality, but there isn't a speck of resemblance there. Not a bit.


But hey, what's Hollywood without a little fantasy?

night moves

I guess I had built June 1st up in my head a little too much, because at 2 am my body decided to get a head start on the day. Apparently the one hour of sleep I had gotten after I'd finally been able to drift off was enough, because I woke up to a just bubbling under the surface anxiety attack that kept me up for the rest of the night. I'd like to report that it minded its manners and stayed under the surface, but unfortunately I can't.


Then it was off to a truly bizarre day at work. Bizarre, unfortunately, in a sad and unbelievable way rather than funny and wacko. I had one patient twice. Came in, got treated, got sent home, came back in, got admitted, and, as my shift was ending, got an emergency transfer to the big city specialty hospital. I was so stunned to see the transfer team come through with my patient on the gurney that I ran after them into the ambulance bay and cried, "What happened?"


They told me. I'll be up all night worrying about this one. And it's a kid, for god's sake. A little kid. With a couple of stupid, screwy connections to us in a really weird way that just creeps me out.


Probably just as well I'll be up all night, because the on-call shift I signed up for tomorrow is already a given, which means that as I'm writing this right after work, I'll be back in there in seven and a half hours. And I'm wide awake and wired. At least it's a really short shift.


I'm sorry. I've bitched enough. I'm done now.


Sweet dreams.

the next chapter

and so it begins...