Sunday, August 30, 2009
It was a normal rainy afternoon, no threatening bolts of lightening hurtling from the sky as the gargoyle statues loom menacingly in the night. It was just kinda dreary, and I decided to do the fairly normal task of organizing my room. No stitching together a living creature from dead body parts with Igor lurching in the background. But stitches were to come.
In a flash of brilliance, I decided to fit a smaller drawer designed for jewelry into a larger drawer designed for my inconvenience. But the smaller drawer actually turned out to be 1/4 of an inch too tall. It was so frustrating to ALMOST be able to close the drawer, but not quite. I was tempted to howl at the moon it was so irritating. But since it was not night, there was no moon to howl at. So I contented myself with having another flash of brilliance. A box cutter! Of course! I can just cut the imposing 1/4 inch off the box and viola, problem solved.
And then the stupidity...er...accident happened. The box cutter decided it liked the taste of flesh much better and slipped right into my finger. Pulsating blood began to ooze everywhere. Being the level headed nurse that I am I quickly rinsed my finger in the kitchen sink, but making a big splattering mess in the process. And then I decided since I was all alone, it would be a good time to meet the neighbors.
"Hi, my name is Julia, I'm your neighbor, would you be able to take me to the emergency room?"
They were incredibly gracious, and I was kind enough not to bleed on their carpet. Four hours of emergency room waiting later, I was seen by a doctor who had his med-student stitch me up. Let's just say, seeing other people's blood for a living does not prepare you to see your own blood up close and personal. Or experience all the excruciating pain associated with it. Moral of the story, don't be stupid, especially when sharp blades are involved.
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Friday, May 01, 2009
"I need to go to the time machine first before we go."
"Um, okay Julia, you sci-fi weirdo."
"How is that weird? Or even science-fiction?"
"Time machines don't exist."
"Yes they do!"
"No they don't!"
"Then where else am I supposed to get my money from?"
"Time machines are at the bank. You've never heard of one before?"
"Only from H.G. Wells."
"No, no, not TIME machine, TYME machine. You know, Take Your Money Everywhere?"
"Never heard of it."
After several phone calls to prove I wasn't off my rocker we finally did a drive by so the proof could be tangible. Because I do know time machines don't exist. But teleportation on the other hand... well, that's a different story.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Yesterday I dealt with a lot of snot. And I'm not trying to be poetic. There was nothing poetic about the thick and creamy ooze coming out of my poor patient's nose. And snot should not be thick and creamy. Only my Wendy's frosty should be described that way. It was also stringy and sticky. Like string cheese. Or taffy. And it was a lovely yellow color. Like puke. Or cream of broccoli soup. Which, incidentally, is what I had for lunch.
This is why I get in trouble with everyone I know. I can't help but describe the disgusting things I see and deal with, in vivid detail, because it's more fun that way. How am I supposed to help it if it always comes up during times food is present? It's because when it comes to food and bodily secretions, the analogies are endless. Think about it. I'm sure you could come up with a few. And now I'm going to eat some broccoli soup with side dish of string cheese and a frosty for dessert. But hold the puke please.
Monday, April 13, 2009
I have one on the back of my car, the outline of an ixthus. While I praise God for being able to openly worship Him, it is a good reminder to me of all my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ who are unable to do so. May they still have found ways to gather together and praise His name this past Easter weekend.
Monday, April 06, 2009
I was driving down a deserted road. Roads are always deserted in dreams. I can hear the warning sirens. I see two funnel clouds behind me, meandering destructively close. I see two more starting to form in front of me. There's no way to avoid them all. I pull over on the side of the road, thinking I'll lie flat in the ditch. Then I spy a farm house. There are some children playing in the front yard and their pregnant mother is hanging laundry in the wind. Can't they see the impending doom?
I run over to warn them about the tornadoes, telling them to get to a cellar. Because of course, farm houses never have basements, but they do have cellars. I find out these dream people can only speak Spanish. I know even less Spanish as my dream self than I do as my real self. But the tornadoes are coming closer and speak for themselves. We rush to a cellar. The two little kids, the pregnant woman and myself squeeze in. We close the doors and I magically have a flashlight in my hands. We all crouch on the floor around the light. We hear the wind, feel it rattling the cellar doors and the ground. Then it feels like we're flying. I peer through some loose boards and we're definitely up in the air. But none of us are scared anymore, because as long as we stay in the cellar we'll be safe. And then I wake up. The thing is, I can't figure out what I'm stressed about this time.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Friday, March 13, 2009
The third floor smelled funky too. Burning funky, not funk funky, if you know what I mean. Jordan came out into the hall, then went to the first floor. Using the stairs. That one has a head on his shoulders I'd say. He agreed it smelled like something was burning but since no alarms were going off and we couldn't see billowing smoke coming from anyone's door we took the elevator back up to the third floor with our ears peeled for sirens. Then we started talking about if there was a fire, what would we grab from our apartment to save?
Jordan said he'd take all his clothes and throw his mattress out the window. He likes his bed. I didn't really know what I'd take. Maybe all my pictures and journals. My purse with my ID and everything in it. You know how it is ladies, EVERYTHING is in the purse. But other than that I wasn't quite sure. What would YOU take?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
1. Go to the 4th folder where you keep your pictures on your computer.
2. Post the 4th picture in the folder.
3. Explain the photo.
4. Tag 4 fellow bloggers to join in the fun!
This picture may not look like much but it has LOTS of memories. This is the alley directly behind my childhood home. Our garage is to the left. This garage was always home to several garter snakes in the summer time. We would always try and see who was the bravest and fish them out from their hidey-hole by the tail. Needless to say quite a few of us got bit. But it was due to youthful exuberance, so it was okay. I was tagged by my lovely mother, who might not know this story. Just remember, youthful exuberance mom, youthful exuberance.
I tag Vicki, Connie, Kiwi Da Fruit and Owan
Thursday, February 26, 2009
I firstly decided to take a bus, which could only take me so far, as my car was being held in another town adjacent to the one I live in. But I think taking a bus halfway shows some signs of intelligence, so we'll call this smart thing NUMBER ONE.
The bus took me half way and I prepared myself for the four mile trek. Four miles is really not that far. Now, if I had, let's say, not worn a winter jacket and a hat and gloves, and walking shoes, it would've been a stupid thing. But I promise I was in appropriate attire so this can be a neutral thing. I actually enjoyed walking for a time, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and there were pretty little houses for them too:
Oh, and did I mention I had a map? Well, okay, I didn't have it with me. But it was in my head because I had carefully planned my route before I left. I think this was smart thing NUMBER TWO.
The sidewalkless highway. Stupid thing NUMBER TWO.
The closeup of the ditch I got to walk in. It was very muddy and wet.
Stupid thing NUMBER THREE.
The train tracks I walked on. They were less muddy and wet. And no trains were in sight, so can I call this smart thing NUMBER THREE?
After all that walking adventure, I finally made it to my car. I could've wept with joy. I collected my keys, said so long to the car hostages....er, I mean, car mechanics, and what took me an hour to walk took me ten minutes to drive. I love not-so-modern-anymore technology. But it looks like I did three stupid things, and three smart things. Hence they cancel each other out and now I am neither smart nor stupid! Until next time...
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
And Happy Valentines Day! That's something to smile about, right? Even if you are single, there is still love to share with those close to you. And can be found in places like the basement. In a splattering of paint that was not purposefully created to smile at you, but a happy coincidence nonetheless. (Found by my little sister while roller skating.)
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
As a child, my mother said I had banana legs. Of course she meant they were long and skinny like a banana, right? No. My legs were being compared to those slightly rotten bananas that have all those nasty brown spots all over them. But, I can't argue with the evidence. So I decided to make a record of several of the bruises I've received recently. Some of them I know where they came from, like falling on the ice...several times. (Did I mention I'm clumsy?) But some of them I just sorta woke up with, leading me to the conclusion I beat myself in my sleep. Regardless of where they come from, I think we can all concur that they do indeed look like rotting bananas.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
Thursday, February 05, 2009
"I am going to take this sharp pointy thing and jam it up into your gums and see if you bleed. If you bleed that means you don't have healthy gums. This might be a tad uncomfortable," so says my dentist.
Well, okay, maybe I'm making up the "jamming a sharp pointy thing into your gums" statement up, but the rest is true. And that is exactly what he did! And it hurt! And I bled! A lot! But wouldn't you if someone was jamming sharp pointy objects into your highly vascular gum bed? It tasted like I'd been socked in the mouth a few times after he was done. But apparently I have gingivitis because my gums bled. Which means my gums need to be planed. Like a sandblaster on a plank of wood. What is it with these metaphors? But since I have Mercedes teeth it was not a depressing day. And that was all I was aiming for.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
Computers... the bane of my existence. I know what they SHOULD do, it's just getting them to do it is where the problem lies. I try and be all fancy and only manage to make things worse. I am feeling inept. And now going to bed.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Sometimes I like to forget that my story is just a small part of God's big story.
I like to think that my story is the ONLY story, and God is just a part in it.
I like to tell the potter He should really shape me in a different way, because the current molding process is no fun and I don't like it.
And it's all about what I like.
And then, when I finally come to my senses, I'm so thankful He does things His way and when my story once again aligns with His big story I can truly become CONTENT.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
So, maybe I wasn't itching for the news, but I was listening mainly for nostalgia's sake. My entire growing up life I remember waking to the "morning edition" music. Da da da da da da da da da da da da da da da! For those of you not familiar with the morning edition music tune, then all of those da's were completely random and useless. If you are familiar then please sing along. I know I did. I also remember listening to morning edition while eating a bowl of oatmeal. Not the pansy kind of cinnamon, spice, sugary oatmeal, but the real deal. The bland, tasteless real deal. Which is why my dad would let us stir in chocolate chips. FIFTEEN to be exact. Really, really exact. My dad was a wise man. He quickly learned children can spot a miscount in chocolate chips very quickly. Vitamins, no. Peas? Hardly! But if one sibling gets even ONE extra chocolate chip the offending parent will very quickly hear about it. So we each got FIFTEEN, our eagle eyes made sure of it.
While waiting for the oatmeal to come to its fruition we would line our chocolate chips like little teardrop soldiers around the edges of our bowls. Of course my brothers would make wailing cries of the fallen as they snipped each chocolate man into the boiling sludge. I wanted to be like my brothers very badly, but somehow my chocolate chips always seemed to make pretty melting chocolate patterns on the top of my oatmeal. Funny how listening to NPR can trigger childhood memories. And now I'm sorta craving some oatmeal. The REAL kind, with exactly FIFTEEN chocolate chips.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I work in a hospital. People die. This is stressful. Two weeks ago, two patients of mine died in two consecutive days. This was stressful.
My sister works in retail. People are rude. This is stressful. Last week, my sister says "I had such a hard day, it was so stressful." I reply, "Did someone die?" For some reason, my sister missed the humor in this.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
I stand looking at this massive wall of games. Floor to ceiling, every game ever made, from chutes & ladders to cranium, it's all there in it's glorious game delight. My eye's scroll up, they scroll down, left right. Where is the terrific Game of Scattergories? My mom is always telling me I don't look for things hard enough and can't expect them to just jump out at me. That's mainly when I'm looking for a pair of shoes I've left at their house. And then they're usually found underneath something and I was really only wandering around the house expecting them to jump out at me. I mean, they belong to my feet, so you'd think the shoes would want to be reunited. The whole jumping out thing makes perfect sense to me.
But remembering my mother's advice I crouch low and read each game title. I peer high, looking behind boxes of different games. Finally, finally, I must admit defeat. No games jumping out at me. My eyes aren't detecting anything. I ask for help from the red-shirted worker-helper man. He gets out his cool scanner ray gun.
"According to this, it should be right here." He says, pointing to a space not filled with the terrific Game of Scattergories, while gazing into the digitizing main frame. I'm totally having a Sci-fi moment. And I almost, ALMOST, say in return, "Maybe it's been lost in the time/space rift that is located at precisely this point. So it IS right here, but in a different dimension. Cue Twilight Zone: Doodoodoodoodoodoodoodoo..." but I refrain. No point in scaring the poor salesman. But maybe someday, when I least expect it, it WILL jump out at me from that alternate dimension...along with my missing sock.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Happy Smiley Face Saturday! :)
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Sunday, January 04, 2009
It played out like a horror movie. The oblivious driver, singing to happy-go-lucky tunes on the radio, as ominous music begins play. This is to let you know something ominous is about to happen. And then it did! My car swiveled out of control and hit the snow! Then my car made it's very own snow-car-angel and I was facing the wrong way in a ditch of frozen snow.
Here is where I began thanking God for many things. First, I wasn't dead or injured. Second, I hadn't hit the tree three feet away from me. Third, I wasn't wearing heels or flats or a skirt like I usually wear to church. Fourth, a kindly farmer in his big sturdy truck stopped about two minutes after the horror moment and was able to push me out of the ditch with the help of three teenagers also in a big sturdy truck. In fact, I think I was the only one not in a big sturdy truck who was braving the back roads. This should inform everyone of the intelligence of my decision. But I was soon on my way again and left the eggplant behind me and everything became spun sugar and sweetness again. The End.
Moral of the story: Don't eat eggplants.
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Friday, January 02, 2009
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Back to resolutions. I'm easily distracted. Maybe I vow to become more focused. Or go to bed on time before work. But I'm not doing that right now because of my actual resolution. Which, I almost forgot to do and the new day of the new year isn't even over yet. Sad. So here's to my chances of keeping this one: I vow to blog every single day. Excited, aren't you?