a lazy sunday

It's been a long time since I've done a quiz, but for some reason this seems like a good time for one. And I don't know why the header is so hard to read, but it says You Are 61% Likely to Survive Another Great Depression. (This is kind of an interesting quiz, actually).

You Are 61% Likely to Survive Another Great Depression

Even though you may not be expecting the worst, you're the type of person who prepares for the worst. You live a relatively modest life. You don't overspend, and you aren't very materialistic. You are also quite self sufficient and independent. You have many useful skills. You can take care of yourself and those you love... which is crucial to surviving another Great Depression.

Could You Survive Another Great Depression?

and for my next trick

My foot isn't broken, thank god, although our doc was worried that it was. Maybe it was when he pushed in slightly right on top of my ankle bone and then had to scrape me - whimpering - off the ceiling. He wrote me out some orders and I toddled over to x-ray, where, three views later, I was pronounced intact. If my foot had actually been broken, I'm pretty sure I would have broken down and cried right there. That would have just been the cherry on the sundae. He doesn't think it's a tendon, which is also good news. The consensus seems to be a deep bone bruise. I can live with that, as long as it's gone by tomorrow.


It would be a big fat lie to say I was on my game today. Here's a perfect example. I had to mix two bottles of meds and then put them into a liter bag of saline for an IV drip. I drew my first bottle of meds up in a syringe and then went to inject them into a port in the IV bag. Somehow, I managed to put the needle itself through the bag and into my finger, so I stood there watching my bag spouting like a saline geyser and my finger dripping blood on the floor. A co-worker, watching in amusement, said, "And for her next trick...". Sigh. There wasn't even anything good in the med bottle I stuck myself with.


I managed okay (semi-okay?) at work because I had no choice, but now that I'm home I'm exhausted from dragging my foot behind me all day. And it hurts. It hurts enough that I just broke a cardinal medical rule and took two of the painkillers that Surfer Dude didn't take when he broke his wrist. By my calculations I have about fifteen minutes before I turn into the Loopy Correspondent.


In light of that...goodnight. And a happy - ambulatory - tomorrow.

this post is brought to you by the letter F

Why F? Stick around.


Fabulous Friends: The picture above is a pair of socks knitted for me by the wonderful Rudee at A Knitting Nurse, and which I opened tonight. The package came yesterday, but a child who shall remain nameless seemed to think it was a Christmas present and hid it from me - hence the delay. I had known she was making me a pair of socks but didn't really know what to expect. Aren't they incredible?? I can't even begin to describe the way they feel - so soft and comfy and fitting perfectly on my feet. And the name of the hand painted yarn? Crazy Woman. Perfect. Wonder what made her pick that yarn??


Thank you from the bottom of my happy little feet, Rudee. I absolutely, positively adore them!


Flu?: I woke up this morning feeling not so hot. Okay, I lie. I felt really rotten. I laid around and moaned and then finally decided to go to the gym. I'm now at the tail end of the 5th week of this 8 week running program, and am feeling motivated. I told myself if I just couldn't hack the treadmill, I could go sit in the dry sauna, which is one of my favorite things in the entire world. Well, not only did I finish the run easily, but I felt a heck of a lot better after it. I'm still not sure what it was, but I'm voting for the power of suggestion. We've had a lot of patients in with the stomach flu and some of the nurses have caught it too. One of them was telling me about hers in blow by blow detail yesterday, so, being me, I was sure I'd catch it too. Maybe I will. But not today.


Frickin' hell: So there I am congratulating myself on how well this running thing is going, when I found myself on the downhill side of a one hundred and twenty pound Lab running hell bent down the stairs. Handfuls of Ibuprofen, bags of ice and a new Ace wrap and I still can not put any weight on my right ankle without lots of pain. It goes without saying that I have to work tomorrow. There are only two positives here. One, if I walk tomorrow the way I've walked this afternoon, I plan on hoisting my foot onto some poor doc's work station and saying HEY! Take a look at this. And fix it, while you're at it. And two, I have Rudee's fabulous socks all lined up to wear to work tomorrow. They may be my very own magic cure.

The (not) Thursday Three

I know I've promised a Thursday Three every, um, Thursday, but I'm going to take some liberties with this one. It would be easy to make up some really good excuse, but the bottom line is that I can't think of any topics. Plus, I'm half-asleep, which is never a good way to start writing a post. The sleep I can take care of all by myself. And will, in about twenty minutes. As for the topics - hit me with some ideas, people. The sky is the limit. Go for broke. Ain't no mountain high enough. Whatever. You get the idea.


Anyway, as promised...the (almost) Thursday Three. One story. Too easy.Three segments.


#1. I'm a sucker for anything with the word Makeover in it. I don't know what it is, but I have always loved the idea of turning a duckling into a swan in 30 days or less. Maybe on some level I still believe in fairy tales. Who the heck knows? I have something about this half-written already, so I'm not going to get into it too much right now. Just believe me. Makeover. It's all about the possibilities.


Along those lines, and in keeping with this deathly grim and yet oddly exhilarating self improvement kick I'm on, I've been doing this on-line Makeover called something like How To Look Younger In 30 days. I've never given my age a second thought, but with everything that has gone on here recently, it's been on my mind. I've got no problems with my age. I wouldn't trade the smarts that come with being three years away from the big 5-0 for anything. I'd just rather not look it. Shallow, huh?


#2. Anyone who has been reading this blog for any length of time knows that I'm not a horn tooter. I would rather stab myself in the eyes than say anything nice about myself. Why? Who the heck knows? It's not that I'm down on myself. I say nice things to myself on a regular basis, because that's a good thing to do. Telling other people nice things about yourself is just a little too testosterone charged for me. I'm all about the estrogen, personally. Nice and low key.

Now having said that, you have to forgive me this one. Please? Because even though I'm sure I'm being BS'd, I had something happen at work that made my week. In the shallowest, most self-serving way imaginable. Don't say I didn't warn you.


#3. I was talking to a guy I work with who is, god help him, in his twenties. (And has not the slightest interest in me, I know how you all think. I could be his mother). He was telling me a story about something that is totally irrelevant to my little saga, and in telling it, to make a point, he asked me how old I was. And this is how the rest of the conversation went...


me: how old do you think I am?

young deluded whippersnapper: 34?

me (choking): try again

ydw (so help me god): up or down?

me: up

ydw: 36?

me: up

ydw: you are such a liar. okay. 38?

me: up

ydw (standing up and walking out): If you're not going to take this seriously, FORGET IT.


It's really bad to get such a kick out of this, isn't it? Isn't it?


Tell the truth. I can take it.

on your mark, get set...

All around me I'm hearing about people starting their holiday decorating. Whether they're buying Christmas trees, getting ready for Hanukkah or celebrating another holiday altogether, it seems like there are a lot of people who look at Dec. 1st as the magic "get ready" date.


As a person who never buys a tree until the middle of December at the earliest, I'm always in awe that there are so many organized souls in the world. If I unearth our advent calendar by Dec. 10th, I figure I'm ahead of the game. And let's not even get into the whole cards/presents/holiday baking thing. I can't even go there until the smell of pumpkin pie is completely gone from my house.


Anyone want to let us in on how you handle this in your home? And one more thing - do many people actually send cards anymore, or is this a dying trend? I'm really curious.

torn

I was on-call today, and sure enough my phone rang three quarters of the way through my treadmill run. It was THAT kind of call, and my heart sank, as I've so far managed to be on-call for all the uneventful days. Say good-bye to that streak. Before we even finished with the first person, a second one was coming in the door. I spent virtually my entire "day off" at work.


Sometimes I think I project a tougher persona than is completely true, and that often people think I'm more bullet proof than I really am. I'm certainly not believing my own hype tonight. At least I'm formulating an answer for how I'll end up handling this. I've always been neurotic about personal safety. I think that may get even worse.


In the meantime, thank heaven for three kids at home and three big, loud, protective dogs. Because otherwise...

aargh

I'm too cranky to be allowed to live. So don't expect much here tonight.


Since I've woken up today I've:


Had a mouse trapped under my fridge. A loud, squealing mouse. When I climbed up on a kitchen chair to peer behind the fridge, the chair suddenly gave way and the whole inside part of the seat fell out, sending me falling through the middle and taking all the skin off the outside of both calves. I grabbed a ceramic bowl of potatoes in a feeble attempt to break my fall, which proves you don't have to be a rocket scientist to write a blog.


Had a mouse casually walk across the kitchen right in front of me and climb in the dog food bowl for a snack. It might have needed glasses, because it failed to notice the broom in my hand. I whacked it hard and presto! it disappeared. Then I noticed it crawling up my brand new thermal drapes in a futile attempt to get away from my buddy the broom, and I wound up in my best hit the ball out of the park stance. Home run! And a nasty red spot on my new drapes, that thank god none of the kids have noticed yet. I know it's there - that's bad enough. Now I have mouse blood on my conscience.


Gone to push a turkey carcass into the stock pot to make soup, and had the wooden spoon slip off of the turkey and plunge my hand into boiling water. Oh, yeah. That felt good. Karmic payback?


Broken up endless computer arguments, had to rip out a scarf I've been knitting (and that I really liked) because I realized I'd screwed it up a while ago and by the time I caught it it was too late to salvage, gotten excited because the tub finally drained, but then put the younger boys in for showers and realized that I got excited too soon, had the power go out for several hours due to some stupid circuit malfunction, blah blah blah. When I finally plopped down to do some computer stuff the wireless is out. Jeez louise. I'm a frickin' mess.


I'm going to bed. I don't care that it isn't even nine o'clock. At least if I'm asleep I'll stay out of trouble.