Have you ever been the one hundredth shopper and you get confetti and balloons dropped down on you and a free trip to the European country of your choice, or Hawaii or a five thousand dollar shopping spree?
Yeah, me niether.
So consider this the cyber equivelant of that non-experience...
HAPPY ONE HUNDRED POSTS to STETHOSCOPE TALKS!
Now go and celebrate...at your own expense of course.
...you are at a waterpark and see a suspicous mole and want to go tell them: "You should really get that looked at."
...you are at a waterpark and see scars and know what kind of surgery they had...Oooo, nice thoracotomy, or, how is that VP shunt treating you?
...you are at a waterpark and admire the nice juicy veins on the person in front of you
...you are at a waterpark and you imagine the worst case scenario if someone got hurt on a ride and how you could step in to help - everyone stand back, I'm a nurse!
...you are at a waterpark and see a poor little boy having a dermitalogical reaction to the pool water and want to just go rinse him off and slather him up in some lotion
...you are at a waterpark and wonder what would happen if there was a zombie outbreak..well, okay, maybe this last one doesn't have so much to do with being a nurse per se, but I'm sure some medical knowledge would be advantagous during a zombie outbreak.
I speak in hyperbole. It is the best day ever! That was the grossest thing I've ever seen! I have never been happier! This is the greatest! This is the worst! He is the smartest man. That was the stupidest thing you have ever done! Worst day ever!!
There is no middle ground with me. But having a literalist for a husband keeps me in check. "Julia, this is not the 'best' restaurant ever. It is good, but you've had better. You just told me the other day that (trademarked name here) was the best. They can't both be the best."
So when something comes along that is even better or more amazing than the most amazing thing or worser than the worstest thing, I have to truly get crazy with my verbalizing shenanigans. And we all know that is the most difficult thing EVER!
My husband has a habit of misplacing things. I think this is a husband thing rather than just a my husband thing. There is some research study somewhere that would corroborate this. It is, if not a daily, at least a weekly occurrence; something becomes lost. Or, as he would say it, not lost, just not in the place he expected it to be. Nine times out of ten I usually know where it is. And I will admit, if searching for said lost item causes us to be late, I maybe, kinda, sorta yell at him for it. Well, maybe not yell, maybe just strongly encourage in a forcible tone to not do this again. Wondering what the point of this post is? Not to rag on my husband, I assure you. Here is the gem:
A few days ago we were leaving for a trip and needed the handy dandy Garmin. What's that you say? Paper maps? I do not know this thing of which you speak. Nope, we are high tech and new-fangled and use E-lec-o-tronics to navigate this wacky world. But could this amazing aperture of navigational prowess be found? Of course not. Were we running late? Of course. Was it all my husband's fault? Naturally.
Then I found it. In a purse. In the closet. Oh, yeah, I remember now. I put it in there for ease of find-ability. I just happened to forget. And then it wasn't where I expected it to be. I sheepishly returned to the car with found object. And yes, I told him it was I who had misplaced it. The only thing my husband said to me? "Yell at yourself! Yell at yourself!"