"It's taken care of."

On call shifts are #2 on my list of things I seriously dislike, second only to night shift. I got called in on my call shift last night... only to FLOAT to another floor. It took all of my strength and energy (which was very little considering the time of day-- 11pm) to prevent myself from bursting into tears. My distraught-ness was potentiated by the knowledge that I have to work the next three nights in a row anyway. So, this is my first four in a row on nights stretch, and I'm pretty sure that it will be what kills me. =(

They did just post a day position and I cannot even come close to articulating how essential to my sanity getting that spot is. I am losing my marbles-- they're all pretty much gone.. and this is just the START of my second week on nights.

(I genuinely love my job. And I am genuinely grateful for employment-- especially doing a job that fascinates me and challenges me and is something I feel good and excited about doing. I am very very very fortunate in that realm, and I fully recognize it).

My sister came up last weekend to visit. We had a grand old time. Actually far better than I expected. Saturday night we decided to go out to dinner to a fondue restaurant in Bellevue. She drove up that day and I had slept half the day after working Friday night, so we were both looking slightly scrubby. We went anyway with a 'who cares' attitude. We were smart enough to call and see what the parking situation would be like, but failed to think about making a reservation. It didn't cross my mind as I don't go to places where you need a reservation.. too hoity toity for me and chances are I can't afford it. So we hoof'd it over to Bellevue, and after a lap or two around the block, finally found the mysterious parking garage that had maybe 14 parking spots. Lame! But after circling the place several times, found a spot.
So we walk into the restaurant and we were both really hungry. Nicole walked in first and the host asked "What can I help you with?" This perplexed us. Usually they ask 'How many in your party?' Nicole later put it best: "What do you mean 'what can I help you with?' You can show me my table!" But instead of speaking she just looked at him awkwardly. So I walk in right behind her and without a second thought I say "Two please," and just in case he was hard of hearing or completely inept, I held up two fingers to really drive the point home. "Do you have a reservation?" he inquired. "...Nooope." He sighed and said that it would be a 30 to 45 minute wait. I was too hungry to search for another restaurant (and we brought a coupon for this place!) so we decided to wait it out in the bar.
We shuffled over to the overflow bar area where the bar tender informed us (kindly, not mean) that reservations are a good idea when one dines at this establishment. We were apparently lucky since it was Father's Day weekend, they were a little slow and we only had to wait 30-45 minutes. We shrugged our shoulders and he talked us into an appetizer which neither of us normally orders, but we were so hungry we decided to go for it. It was really good actually-- pesto and brie cheese and they brought crackers, grapes, apples and ...something else to spread it on. I was hesitant but it was delicious. 45 minutes later our table was ready and we cashed out at the bar-- Nicole threw her plastic down before I could, and so I said "okay, I'll pay for dinner then." I hate asking them to split the check. We hoof'd to our table and embraced the menu that offered POTS of melted cheese... and goodies to dunk in it. Seriously, whoever came up with fondue is a genius and should be publicly recognized as so.
This is where it gets ridiculous.
Our waiter (name NOT known.. young looking ..21 or 22 we decided, but cute) came when we were done looking at the menu. I (for no reason) had my menu open to the ridiculously long wine list (it was seriously like four pages of the menu) because we'd been commenting on how insanely expensive the wine was. So Waiter comes up and asks "Would you like a bottle of wine?" I said "..nope," and he gestured to the fact that it was open and I laughed shut it immediately. Then Nicole told him how it was too expensive for us. Classy. He crouched down and was super chatty in the I want a good tip so I'm going to try to befriend you in three minutes way.
Waiter: "What are you ladies up to tonight?"
Me: "She's in town visiting..."
Waiter: "No way, where from?"
Nicole: "Salem, Oregon..."
Waiter: "No way, I grew up in Klamath (?) and went to school at OSU!"
Us: "Awesome."
Waiter: "What else are you going to do tonight?"
-Nicole and I looked at each other and shrugged
Me: "...this is kinda it... I have a coupon!" THROWS coupon in his direction
Waiter: "WHAAAT? You're not taking her out on the town?"
Me: "...um... well... I'm still kinda newer to the area, I don't really know what to show her. Where do you think I should take her?"
Waiter: "oooh hmm.. there's a bowling alley in Capitol Hill that's really cool... wait-- you guys are 21 right???"
Us: fits of laughter
Nicole: "Oh, bless your little heart... yes we're over 21."
Waiter: "That's a cool place, I'm newer to the area, too so I'm trying to think of places.. there are a ton of bars that are good.."
Nicole: eye roll in my direction to which waiter picks up on and gives a confused look
Me: "... yea, the bar scene isn't really my favorite."
Waiter: "oh, do you drink at ALL?"
Me: "I don't NOT drink."
Waiter: "hmmm I'm trying to think of places. I'm not a big drinker, either..."
HE FINALLY DECIDED TO TAKE OUR ORDER

Not long after our melted cheese and delicious dippers (minus the moldy apple) came out and he put on a little show of mixing and melting the queso. He checked in frequently to make sure our dining experience was nothing short of delightful. The coupon I'd brought (brought'n.. hahahaha) was for a free dessert, so he knew to bring the dessert menu. We quickly decided and he brought it out within a few minutes. As he laid out all the insanely delicious things to dip in warm silky milk chocolate, he said "Enjoy, ladies. And it's all taken care of. The cheese, the chocolate.. it's taken care of." And he tossed the coupon back in my direction. Nicole and I were in a cheese coma and getting ready to embrace chocolate euphoria on top of it, so we were just like "Okay thanks..." But like two seconds after he walked away our brows simultaneously furrowed. "It's taken care of?" WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!
We spent the next ... twenty minutes trying to figure out what he was talking about as we embraced the chocolate-y goodness.

"Nicole, you need to CLARIFY what he means!" I hissed. She of course refused to do anything so logical. She insisted that means that we didn't have to pay for our meal and I was so confused as to WHY. (still am). We weren't heinous looking, but we weren't drop-dead-give-them-their-meal-free-gorgeous either.. what on EARTH made someone give us a free meal? Maybe between complaining about the pricey wine and chucking my coupon at him, Waiter decided to do his good deed for the day... I just don't know! So we were in quite the quirky mood by this point-- I'm pretty sure they spiked the chocolate, we couldn't stop giggling. It was SO MUCH FUN-- my sister and I fight far too much, and it was insanely refreshing to laugh with her for a whole night.

As we finished the chocolate fondue-- no dipper left behind, Waiter brings out slightly smaller pots of the dark chocolate and white chocolate fondue with extra dippers. Our eyes got huge as he said "And I brought you some extra goodies too!" I didn't know whether to laugh or cry-- I was SO FULL. But what sensible woman says "No thank you" to a pot full of chocolate with strawberries begging to be dunked?! So we went at it. We still didn't know what to do about "It's taken care of." Waiter kept checking in more and more frequently to see what he could get us.

As we lost steam on the second round of dessert, he came by and asked how it was blah blah blah and reiterated: "And it's alllllllllllll taken care of, you guys are set." I said "...really?" And he said "Yes, absolutely. It's taken care of." So we gave due thanks and he walked away. PERPLEXED. NAUSEOUS. STUPID HAPPY. So my genius sister convinced me (I blame drunkeness by chocolate) to leave my phone number for our generous Waiter and we left him a hefty tip. Shoot, if we were getting out of what would have been a very pricey meal, the least we could do was tip appropriately. I figured one of three things could happen:
1) Nothing at all.
2) He would call or text me and there are worse thing in the world than attractive young men calling me.
3) We totally misinterpreted what "It's taken care of" means, we walked away without paying AND they had my phone number to give to the police.

My new motto is 'without risk there's no reward,' so I made Nicole be the lookout as I scribbled my digits on a scrap piece of paper (he NEVER brought us a check!) and as I laid it on the table I insisted we leave IMMEDIATELY. The only thing more embarrassing than leaving your phone number in a public place is being caught by whoever you're leaving it for. So we scampered out like school children and burst into laughter as soon as we got out the door. We waddled to the car, decided to go bowling on a different day and made it back to my apartment without tossing our delicious fondue cookies.

It was a fun weekend and I'm glad she came up. No word from Waiter yet, but no word from the police, either. Fine by me.

SERIOUSLY: case in point.

Blinking Bug Bites

**EDIT** Shout out to David-- who introduced me to Hyperbole and a Half. I swear this person is me. When reading her posts I think "omg-- that's ME." it's uncanny.. check it out.

It is a shame that posting work-related stories on here is frowned upon.
Night shift and my ability to cope with it inevitably create situations that to the outside audience would undoubtedly be humorous.

That's all I have to say about that. Well, actually not-- I have a lot more, but will bite my tongue (...fingers...?)

I will say this:

-I have 24 bug bites. "What in the world from?" you might ask. From playing a riveting game of disc golf (aka Frisbee golf, frolf, etc). Last Sunday it was so nice out, so a friend and some friends of a friend went down by SeaTac to an 18 basket disc golf course. (Confession: I had no idea such courses existed). It took SEVERAL (read: more than five) hours to complete the course due to me not knowing how to efficiently or effectively throw a disc (don't dare call it a Frisbee..) to save my life. I was grateful for the other disc golf newbie who at the beginning shared the burden of 'that girl' who is really bad. But alas, it was her second time playing and she started to catch on about 6 baskets in. For the remaining twelve, I was the reason that each basket took a RIDICULOUS amount of time. My fellow disc golfers were pretty nice about it, though.. offering tips or showing me different ways to throw. For the record, before agreeing to go I said "I'm a kicker, not a thrower. I don't want to be a wet blanket, I've NEVER played before, and you guys are super good.." But the invitation to play stood, and I had no other plans for the sunny Sunday. So while I felt bad, I gave fair warning to at least one person in the party. ANYWAY-- those bug bites itch with FURY. Also, they blink like Christmas lights. They go from pink to white to pink to white to pink to white with my pulse. It's quite a freak show let me tell you. I am grateful that the majority of them are on my legs where my scrubs cover them for work. Wouldn't that be the treat-- the night shift nurse with blinking bug bites slinking into your room at 4am to take your vital signs. Geez louise.

-One of my good friends from high school is currently staying with me while she looks for an apartment in Seattle. She's moving here and it is SO EXCITING. I have really enjoyed having her company around and am genuinely looking forward to having an old friend here!

-I feel like I have more to say but that will have to be all for now. I need to try to squeeze a run in (no matter how half hearted it may be) before working tonight. ...night-shift is a swear word to me. But you all know how I feel about it so I will withhold my ranting for the time being.

Night Shift Blues

I am getting ready for my last day shift for six weeks. It is a tragic tragic tragic time.

I would rather have gloomy weather forever than work night shift.
I would rather eat this skin off a raw onion every day for breakfast than work night shift.
I would rather clip the toenails of a 90 year old man with a gnarly foot fungus than work night shift.
I would rather shave my head and eat all my hair than work night shift.

..Give me straight days or give me death.

I like interacting with my patients and their families. While the challenge of being a 'silent ninja' is slightly entertaining for a while, it is not enough to make night shift worth it. Yea, there are fun coworkers on night shift, but I am too beside myself due to the time of day to enjoy any of them. It is far from ideal.

Needless to say I haven't gotten any of the day shift positions I've applied for. It has been a great run on days. I made two patients my primaries and I love 'em. And I've learned SO MUCH on days-- it's crazy. Being involved in rounds makes a world of difference. Waaah, I'm really going to miss the chaos.

Please knock

My gym. Ugh.

I frequent an express version of my gym. Meaning it has less equipment and classes, no locker rooms and that, despite its name, it isn't actually open 24 hours a day. I am not sure how much longer I can grin and bear it. But, I don't know what other options are practical, especially in the financial department.
So this morning I went to the gym. I went to use the restroom before I got going (a last ditch procrastination effort...). There are four individual bathrooms in one hallway. I appreciate the individual part-- I've never been a fan of stalls. The doors have locks on them which is really good because instead of knocking on a closed door, people just wail on the handle and jiggle it furiously until they piece together that that particular bathroom is occupied.
I have a nervous bladder. If I know someone can hear me pee, I freeze up no matter how badly I have to go. This condition has taken on a new twist while at the gym. I am so terrified of two situations:
1) I forget to lock the door
2) The handle breaks (which judging by how aggressively some patrons open doors is bound to happen sooner than later).
So now, even though no one can hear me go, I get stage fright. I know that the second I let loose, some meat head is going to come barging through the door and see me in my half naked squatting glory (I'm a hover-er in public places... especially the gym, they're bad at cleaning). The anxiety of using the bathrooms at this place is enough to give one's heart a cardio workout without boarding a treadmill or bouncing along on an elliptical.
What happened to good old fashioned knocking?! This is how I approach the bathrooms:
1) Soft knock
2) If no answer, try the handle; if answer, move on.
It's really one of the simplest two step processes EVER. SERIOUSLY PEOPLE.

Youth on Age

Hiking. It is something I have been longing to do for the past ...six ish years. As soon as I left the west (best) coast after high school, I came to appreciate the nature it holds, and started hating myself for not taking advantage of it for the 18 years I lived here before venturing off into the flat wasteland known as the Midwest.
A couple of weeks ago the weather was actually awesome. I googled 'free seattle hikes' and found the Issaquah Alps Trail Club. I saw "free guided hikes" and was floored-- I would love to go for a hike by myself, but I don't know any trails and I refuse to be that clown on the news who is lost for 12 days after hiking in a new place all alone. The fact that these people would guide me on a hike-- for FREE-- was very exciting.

I roped in a friend (pictured above) from college who was in Seattle, home on summer break before heading to Alaska for the summer. I packed all the things the website said were required-- even though it was mid 70s without a cloud in the sky, I put a garbage bag in my pack to act as 'rain gear.' I was so nervous they would say "you can't go" if I didn't have everything on the list. The hike we chose was described as follows: "Echo Mountain- interesting plants and views of Mt. Rainier, 5 miles, 600' gain." It was estimated to take 4 hours and have 'some climbing/difficulty.' So I was slightly nervous-- What if I'm too out of shape? What if I hold the group back? I don't want to be that kid. I resolved to try it anyway and hope at least one person was in worse shape than me. After much planning and packing, I went to bed the night before with three alarms set, so as to not oversleep.
I picked up my friend on the way, and then we got there more than an hour early. I have a serious getting-there-early problem. We found a Starbucks to pass the time-- all the while my anxiety grew. People in Seattle are kinda serious about their hiking. I've only met the kind that climb real mountains-- with ice picks and stuff. They're the crazy people who have to train for their climbs because the climbs are so insane. They're the unfortunate ones who fall in the ice crevasses and survive for days drinking their own urine and chewing the buttons of their coat. Who am I to be hiking with them? I'm just a pudgy girl escaping from the Midwest, they're going to laugh me back to Chicago. WHAT AM I THINKING?!?!? Had I been alone, I probably would have gone home and wallowed in self pity-- but I wasn't. I dragged my friend out of bed at an ungodly hour, so I had to follow through. So we left Starbucks (early of course) and arrived at the 'club house.' We got out of the car and waited. We were the first ones there. I was nervous that we were at the wrong spot or that we missed the group (which was impossible, we were still like ten minutes early). We saw another lady looking at a sign by the building and I asked her if she was there for the hike. She said yes, and I was relieved that we were in the right spot. Then I really saw her. She was in her 50s (ish?), wearing long pants-- normal pants... like khaki pants... had a heavier coat on with big boots, a hat and sunglasses. My friend and I were in shorts and at-shirts with running shoes. Hmm, she must be in good shape to go on this hike at her age. More people started trickling in and an overwhelming theme emerged: old. Everybody there was a grandparent. WHAT? This is a senior citizen event! Truthfully, I was relieved.. if these people could handle this hike, then surely I could too! I'd better be able to. An older gentleman who was somewhat in charge came and told my friend and I that our shoes would be okay for this hike, but if we planned to do more hikes with them in the future, we needed hiking boots due to the slippery nature of the trails. I suppose its a valid point, but I couldn't help thinking if these arthritic clowns can handle the slippery trails, I think I'll be fine in my running shoes thank you very much. So we congregated when Betty (pictured below), our leader (age... 70? I'm not kidding) arrived. She gave some shotty directions to the trail head (which, btw, I still don't understand why we didn't just meet there... as it was like a 30 minute drive from the clubhouse..) So we get there and Betty starts talking. She starts talking a little bit about the area. I am surprised at how knowledgeable she is about the hike and how involved she is in the preservation efforts and what not. Totally a sharp 70 year old lady-- and I can only hope that I am that spry when I age. She warns us to stay together as people have gotten lost before, but "Paul finally made it home..." What?! I had visions of some poor elderly man wandering through the forest for days on end and then finally emerging out of the forest back at the trail head only to see that his group had deserted him and he had to walk all the way home. It was so hard to contain my fits of laughter. Everything anybody said that had any potential of being comical was a MILLION TIMES funnier (is that a word?) because they were so... aged. Don't get me wrong-- I have a ton of respect for the elderly in our society and think they are very wise and have a lot to offer to younger generations. Hooray for elderly! And-- my friend and I stuck out like sore thumbs-- we looked like we were headed to the gym, while everyone else was in pretty normal clothing-- button up shirts and 'slacks,' and ...fanny packs (not that those are normal on ANY level).
Betty also announced that this was a "flower hike." A what??? Apparently we would be stopping to identify different flowers and plants along the way, and not to worry, Betty had her book so we could look up the ones we weren't sure about. A flower hike? What did I get myself into?! I exchanged looks of 'wtf' with my friend and we started hiking. Several of our hike mates whipped out their ski poles to help them along the rugged terrain. We stopped every 7th step or so to identify a new (or the same) flower. The first we saw was Youth on Age (pictured below).

(*Youth on Age)*
How ironic. How fitting for the dynamic of this group. I glanced up to the Heavens and shot a "Really?" prayer up to the Big Guy. So we continued on. Every third flower we saw was Youth on Age. "Oh there's some Youth on Age!" Betty would bellow and it'd pass along the line of hikers.
I was in a state of shock at the whole situation. I'd invested so much energy in being a nervous nellie for this hike. I was convinced I wouldn't make it and would have to borrow someone's inhaler.. or call for a rescue ranger to come escort me down the mountain when I couldn't keep up with the group. But here I was, looking at flowers with other people's grandparents.. and probably great grandparents. I was just ... flabbergasted. How did I not see this coming? But I couldn't have seen it-- that's what happens when you embrace activities you find on Google. It was all I could do to not die laughing the whole way up. Of course I'd land myself in a senior citizen hike-- it's only natural. I really had to keep my sarcasm in check though-- so many doors were flinging open all around me, begging for a wisecrack, but I was sure my comments wouldn't be appreciated. That was probably the hardest part. *(Stopping-- again-- to look at flowers) *
So in about... two hours we made it up the roughly 2 mile 'mountain.' It was beautiful-- I love nature. Trees-- lots of flowers-- sun... it was awesome. I couldn't help but think "this would be awesome to run up," and then I remembered that I can't run to save my life. We made it to the top and had a beautiful view of Mt. Rainier. We stayed up there for about 20 minutes and everyone ate their lunch. My friend and I released all the funny comments we'd been holding back on the way up and prepared for the way down. *(If you look real hard you can see Mt. Rainier...)*
This was the complete opposite of a bad day-- just so unexpected! It was gorgeous weather and the other hikers were very friendly. I met a running enthusiast and we bonded over our knee pain! Ha!
At one point someone asked my friend and me if we had the day off of school and I was like "..no I have the day off of work," and naturally they asked what I do. I hate revealing that I am a nurse in any group environment because I feel like if some medical emergency were to happen, it'd fall on me to fix it. Sure there's the oath I took that already obligates me to do so, but still I hate announcing it. NOT TO MENTION I was hiking with people who are at a prime age for medical issues to explode. Fortunately we made it down the hill without any medical event. However-- they started EATING THE PLANTS! "If it's the one I'm thinking, it should taste like black licorice," Betty rattled. I watched in horror as person after person chomped down on the strange plant trying to figure out what I'd have to tell the 9-1-1 dispatcher when they all were doubled over with abdominal pain unable to hike to their cars to seek medical attention themselves. One guy even ate a mushroom. I figure he was suicidal. * (My new runner friend. I tried to get out of him if he had any grandsons-- no dice.)*

All in all, a great day outside in nature. But also a day that caught me TOTALLY off guard. We finally made it back to our car and I was ready to peel outta there. As I put my car in reverse Betty popped up at my window to make sure we knew how to get back. She scared the living daylights outta me! Seriously-- what a day. "Oh look! Youth on Age!"

ROTFL

*Eleven days after my decision to embrace prolonged sun exposure without skin protection, I am still peeling. I sat outside on a Thursday, and worked Saturday-Monday. Babies don't care that you're sunburnt-- they'll grab you and scratch you and give you baby lovin' no matter how bad it hurts. Lesson learned? ... let's be honest-- probably not.

*Ridiculous things continue to happen to me, and I am convinced that God's throne is empty because he is rolling on the heavenly floor laughing at me.

*I applied for a straight days position and was not senior enough to get it. I noticed another straight days position open that is different-- I'd float between my current floor and the other surgical unit floor. I hesitated for about twenty minutes then decided to apply anyway. I like my floor and am not overly enthusiastic about things on the other floor, but I will do close to anything to not have to work nights.


*My foot hurts.

*It has been a year and a half since I've had a haircut, and the only reason it happened then is because I chopped off 12 inches to donate therefore it was free. I am mortified at how much it costs to get a decent haircut nowadays-- not to mention that a tip is expected. I have issues with the great-clips, super-cuts places. They ruined me in middleschool. Looks like I will be getting haircuts bi-annually as that's how long it takes this mop to grow long enough to donate.

*Coming up on the six month mark of when I moved here has caused me to be somewhat reflective. I made this as I thought about what's gone down over the past half a year.

Freak Lobster

I love the sun. I love everything about it. I love feeling warm from it, I love how it makes colors brighter and people happier. I cannot get enough of it. I also love how it makes my skin tanner. Vain? Very. I'm over it. However, to achieve the tan-ness that I long for during winter months, some trial and error is usually required. Today was a major error.
Since starting day shift last week, I have so much more energy during the day and fall asleep at much more appropriate times at night (not in the wee hours of the morning). Today it is 72 degrees outside without a single cloud in the sky. I knew this miracle was coming, thanks to weather.com. I woke up early this morning to get to the gym and then came home, put a tank top and flip flops on and walked to the Starbucks that is approximately a quarter of a mile from my apartment. I used a gift card to get an iced green tea then took up residence at one of their outdoor tables. I brought two books (in case one bored me). I started reading and stayed there for four hours. HA! Ironically, I am really not a fan of reading. I could feel my skin soaking up the glorious UV rays. I could see the little shadows of heat waves rising behind me. And I loved it. Every second. I masochistically welcomed the almost burning sensation on my arms and legs. BRING ON THE SUN. It has been a long winter of pasty paleness and I am soo ready to give that up. So I sat and took a good chunk out of a book I've been trying to get into for awhile, did some serious eaves dropping and peopel watching (two of my new favorite activities..). Before I knew it it was four hours later. I moved my arm and my watch slid down my wrist. I then noticed the BRIGHT WHITE skin that was under my watch and how it contrasted with the skin around it. Uhoh. I wanted to ignore it so I finished the chapter and then decided I should probably put an end to the charade. I walked home in a warm and peaceful state of euphoria. I love the sun. It warms my soul. It's like a hug without anyone having to touch you hahahaha. I walked into my apartment still feeling tranquil-- first stop the bathroom-- four hours and a caffeinated beverage will take their toll. I glanced at the mirror and my zen was rudely interrupted by alarm. RED. Not a pink rosy glow, BRIGHT RED. But not everywhere-- my neck remains amazingly white, apparently I put my head down while reading?! WTF. I pulled my tank top to the side to reveal a THICK white strip of skin. I hate the sun. It's turned me into a freak lobster. My skin is going to fall off. I will be outcast like a leper! My panic increased when I realized that it's going to get worse before it gets better. If I'm this red now, give it six hours and the blisters will appear probably accompanied by eschar tissue and I'll have to go to the ER for amputations. Then I'll lose my job because who wants the 6 fingered nurse whose skin is falling off?! ... So.. I'm on my way to the store to get some aloe-- a fat lot of good that stuff does, but better than nothing I suppose. And I think I might invest in sunscreen. I've always hated the stuff-- quite a lot actually. It's greasy and it maintains my pasty pigment. There's gotta be some compromise between the lobster leper and the pale translucence I've displayed all winter. We'll see. For now I will be dealing with this:

Kujo

Running. It's essentially a swear word to me.
Regardless, I forced myself out on the country roads when I went home this weekend for a surprise mothers day visit. I dilly dallied Sunday morning and waited for prime tanning time (which I've declared to be between 11am and 2pm). So I waddled down my driveway onto the little dead end street which apparently is a hill. I was trying to decide between the three mile loop and the almost five mile loop. A-top the 'hill' I thought "uhh three mile loop-- duh." However, to get to both loops you go down a SUPER steep hill. By the bottom I was like "oh... I'm okay, I can do the almost-five." Wrong sauce. The hills are ridiculous. Regardless of the route, there are hills everywhere and they are so steep and so long. I am not one to swear like a sailor but I find myself cursing each hill the ENTIRE time it takes me to shuffle up it and even for a while after. So here I go on this just about five mile loop-- once atop the first hill I seriously considered turning back. Then I realized that I'd hate myself if I did, so I pushed on. How dramatic am I-- it's not like I was a pioneer on the Oregon Trail that just lost an oxen to the harsh weather conditions while I wasted away from Dysentery.. but it kinda felt like it... I turned to a gravel road which is my favorite part of that run because it's at a super slight downhill for most of it.. So there I am trotting along like an escapee from fat camp, rocking out to some angsty Kelly Clarkson... and all of the sudden out of the corner of my eye I see a LARGE dog LUNGING AT ME. Only after I saw it did I hear it barking viciously. Funny, I thought. This dog has no leash... this dog has no owner apologizing frantically for the its ferocious antics... NOT FUNNY. Panicked, I pushed its nose away and breathlessly said "Hi Puppy..." and booked it down the road. You're lame, self-- you couldn't out run this dog to save your life. Surrender now. Fortunately I gave that little self depreciating voice the mental middle finger and kept going until I couldn't hear Kujo barking anymore. So I escaped without rabies, but it scared the living day lights out of me! The rest of the run was terrible, as the adrenaline quickly stopped flowing and I still had a sickly huge hill to climb. I would be lying if I denied a walk break or two.
When I woke up before dawn this morning to get back to Seattle before my call shift (I caved on calling in.. such a wuss), I could barely get out of bed-- not due to exhaustion and the wee hour of the morning-- due to ridiculously sore legs. It's sad really. There was a time that I'd rejoice in the lactic acid and think "awesome that means I'm working hard," but now I think "EFF that hurts!" I have no intention of doing that loop again in the near future to get better at it.. I have little intention of running outside really. So it seems all for naught. HOW DO I GET OUTTA THIS FUNK!? Seriously, it seems way more mental than anything and you'd think that would be the easiest to fix because it's your mind, you have complete control-- but let me tell you it is far from easy. Don't get me wrong, my lack of cardiovascular endurance and muscle strength is no help either.. but seriouslyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. I'm soo irritated.

Holy Day Shift

Yowzer. I knew it was coming... but my awareness did not soften the blow of day shift. Jeepers creepers it is literally twelve PLUS hours of GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO.
My first DAY SHIFT (off orientation) on a weekday (not a lot happens on weekends.. it would have been more ideal to have a first DAY on a weekend, but nay-- I got a Wednesday), I got a four patient assignment. Excuse me? Did I read that right-- YES. FOUR patients. FOUR BUSY BUSY BUSY patients. Less than ideal. Thursday and Friday I got 3 kids-- far more appropriate but was still running around like a crazy person and clocked some significant overtime. Whoops. If the overtime was my fault, I'd feel bad-- but it wasn't... so I don't.
BUT I WILL CONTINUE TO GENUINELY WELCOME THE CHAOS because it means I am on days and that means my sleep schedule will be so much more regular. Praise the LORD. I make sure to NEVER complain about how busy it is on days and try (but sometimes (read: frequently) fail) to always appear cheery.
AND-- I found pharmacy allll by myself-- the secret agent way, too, where oyu have to have a staff ID badge to get through several double doors.... Things are looking up.

Practice

Ooooh my goodness, last night work was ridiculously busy! Supposedly, it's a bad idea to write specifically about work events on blogs, facebook, etc. because if anything legal ever goes down such postings can and will be used against you... (I guess someone's facebook status was used once... I don't know, it's part of my paranoia) --BUT-- believe it or not I embraced the PURE chaos with an almost 100% genuine smile as it was good practice for my upcoming day shift debut. Mayhem and obstacles and craziness all await me Wednesday morning at 7:00am. It's about darn time.

--AND-- I got to x-ray without having to ask someone to remind me how to get there. This, my friends is huge. My place of employment is quite the maze-- especially for the clown that fainted during the orientation tour. PAH. Next up, pharmacy.

*From Postsecret

It is things like this that make me hate running on the treadmill at the gym. Nay-- makes me hate being out of shape and running on the treadmill at the gym. I definitely had this mindset at one point. Karma is a bear.

the bowels of hell

The bowels of hell continue to rumble with fury beneath me. I sometimes day dream about clipping the wires to their stereo system... throwing a rock through their window... taping a copy of the noise rule (in all tenants' leases) to their door... Despite all my griping, I realize how fortunate I am that this is one of the bigger things troubling me.

Well....

Not even 24 hours after writing that I am probably bowing out of any races this season, I start thinking "Well...." UGH.
When I was in Chicago last spring/summer, I trained with a coworker most of the time. She's now a hot shot member of a triathlon gym and preparing for TWO half ironmans this summer. She's already done an 8k and a half marathon and apparently this weekend her training added up to two miles short of a half ironman. And I'm on the elliptical. I feel like such a loooser. So then I start looking for ANYTHING to pull me out of this deep rut I'm stuck in. I come across race calendars and training tips, all things that would occupy me for hours on end last year, but now they give me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach and fuel my pity party.
Then I came across this. Last year I would have declined the notion of a women's training group because a lot of women are pansies (a lot are hardcore GI Janes, but a lot more are pansies). But now I'm kind of like, I have to do whatever I can to get back at it. And truth be told, I'd fit right in with pansies. So I sent an inquiring email. There is a bike training they're doing May 11th that I (think?) I would like to go to. Even considering it about it makes me nervous and kind of nauseous actually. I haven't ridden ole Speedy since... August or September... the tires are FLAT and I don't have a tire pump. I can only imagine the fool I'll make of myself re-learning the clipping pedals and donning bike shorts. Ugh maybe it's a bad idea. But I can't deny the whispering voice that says maybe it's exactly what I need.

... so we'll see, I guess. =/

(and in the short time it took to scribe this, I already got a response to the email... will someone come with me?!?!)

Sugar Fairy & Crazy Eyes Chaos with a Fish Stench Issue

-For the past few weeks I have made a very conscious and diligent effort to avoid refined sugar due to extreme fear that I have or will soon have the 'betes (Diabetes). This is SO hard for me-- I am addicted to the sweet stuff. While I've failed more than I care to admit, I have done better than I thought I would, and I notice that I feel better too. Less mood swings and stuff. I'm still tired all the time, but that's to be expected when my sleep schedule is so effed up. I have less cravings than I used to, but they're not gone.. and MAN are they powerful! Another reason that I should never be preggers-- I can't handle cravings! I have also discovered avocados and their deliciousness. They make everything better-- boca burgers, salad, etc. I wish there was a way to buy a lot of them without them ALL getting ripe at the same time.

-Confession: I have become a regular (gulp) ... elliptical-er. As I've said for the past several months, running is not working out super awesomely. I figured I needed some cardio and if that meant stepping on the fairy machine, so be it. I'm hoping to build some feeble base of fitness that will grant me success in actual running. We'll see.

-A coworker and I went to a spinning class downtown last week. The instructor was a maniac. When he walked in with veins bulging from his huge muscles, tan leathery skin, and sipping on his MONSTER, I knew we were in trouble. It was the first spinning class my friend ever went to and I think she'll never go back. He started off with a pace of like 250rpms, flashed us some crazy eyes(seriously they were like glowing) and said in an almost eerily calm tone 'This is our warmup." Throughout the class he kept screaming things like "COME ON!" and "ARE YOU WITH ME?!" to which I mentally responded NO! I haven't been with you for a VERY long time! If you've ever seen the movie Heavyweights this instructor resembled Ben Stiller's character to a tee. It was not good.

-I start days on May 5th. I'm so excited. I'm also nervous. Day shift is often mass chaos. But I refuse to whine about that-- it seems a small sacrifice for normalcy in my non-work life. Yes please.

-I am fish sitting again. Whenever I put my face next to the fish bowl to get good look at Fish (I forgot what his name is.. so I call him Fish), he starts FLIPPING OUT and darting back and forth across the bowl. I'm worried I'll give him a little fishy heart attack. Sometimes, though he looks dead, so to see if he is or not I get down and look at him and he jumps back to life. You know its bad when you scare the dickens out of a freaking fish.

-My neighbors are outta control. I spend much of my spare time looking for a new apartment on Craigslist. One that is in a duplex or that is a house of its own. However, I haven't found anything that is in my budget that isn't in the middle of nowhere. Fail. I came home from work this morning and the second I opened the door to the stairwell I was slapped in the face by the stench of cannabis. Man that stuff is rank.

-At this point I don't think I'm going to do any triathlons this summer. I am in no shape to do any and feel good about them. I might change my mind, but I am more and more at peace with the idea of figuring out whatever my issue is with getting back in shape and then embracing races again. If I did any in this state of mind, I would be so disappointed in myself and I'd have a terrible time-- why spend money on that?

Paranoid

Preface: I watch Law and Order (Criminal Intent and SVU) fairly regularly, and have even indulged in online-viewing marathons on occasion. This has led me to paranoia-- in almost every situation I can identify who will rape and/or murder me and why they won't be a prime suspect until 35-45 minutes into the episode that is my life.

When I moved in, there weren't screens on several of my windows. Since it was November and window opening wouldn't be an immediate need, I didn't do anything about it right away. As the weather has been getting warmer, I've wanted those screens more and more. One too many flies have welcomed themselves into my apartment through the gaping open window. So, I put in a maintenance request and within a week, I was woken from my daytime slumber by a handy man, here to install screens.
He was a fine upstanding citizen which made him all the more threatening in my mind. First thing I noticed was his thick accent, which he later would identify as Russian. He measured the windows that were screen-less then said "I will go to Home Depot to get supplies then come back to build the screens." Still half asleep, I nodded okay and shut the door behind him. Then my mind started going crazy. What if he goes to Home Depot to get rope, duct tape, and tarp? He's going to come back and murder me, wrap me up and dump me off. He had no motive, I have nothing of worth to steal in this place (sans my bike which he commented on as it is in one of the rooms w/o a screen), but I was convinced danger ensued. Naturally, I did nothing. I cleaned up a little actually, haha... When he came back I shrugged and let him in. As he built the screens in my living room I sat on the couch and pretended to watch Dr. Phil. It was a very tense silence. Then he started talking. He first asked how long I'd played soccer, motioning to a soccer ball that was on the floor. Oh geeze, he's trying to distract me. BE COOL. So we made small talk. I learned:
-He is from Russia and moved here in 1990. His mom made him move here, but he didn't want to. He went to a military school and liked it because he got along with the other boys there. His mom wanted him to be more social but he never really liked other people than his military school friends.
-He is a trained sharp shooter.
-He ha a license to carry a gun, but is applying for a license to carry a gun with a silencer. (I wanted to ask him why he needs a silencer but could imagine him replying with "So I can do this without anyone hearing" as he whips out his gun and shoots me).
-He played soccer (goalie) professionally in Russia and played some rec here but didn't like it. He wrestled professionally here and enjoyed that more because it was an individual sport. He didn't like losing because of his team, if he was going to succeed or fail he wanted it to be on his terms.
-He is currently looking for a career change into "protective services" which apparently means being a private investigator. According to him, fidelity checks are the most frequent job for PIs. He seemed to think it was silly for people to hire someone for such a reason stating "If you don't trust them, why are you with them?" Ironically, he later told me that he has a mistress even though he is engaged. I asked if his fiancee knew and he said yes, but that she was over it.
-He has two children (ages 5 and 10) that live with their mother (his ex wife) in Nevada.
-He's worked in protective services before and boasted of the power he potentially holds over people by checking their backgrounds and if they pay their taxes. He told me about his ex-wife's new boyfriend or husband and that he checked him out since new-guy has contact with his kids. He also threatened the new-guy with the information he found in case new-guy thought of hurting his kids.
-He told me he can pass a polygraph even if he's lying and that he's done it before.
-He knows how to tell if someone is lying by their body language and other clues he learned in his protective service days.
-Apparently the FBI wanted him to be a Russian translator but he declined because he didn't want to sit behind a desk. He told them he'd be an agent, but they didn't want him because he confessed to smoking pot once in his life.
-He asked where I was from and when I replied "Chicago" he told me he'd been there for 2 hours once. I assumed for a lay over, and he said "No... let's put it this way. I had to 'talk' to someone." He then told me he frequently had jobs where he'd go to a place and then he needed to leave very quickly to avoid aftermath. ?!?!?!?! Perhaps my paranoia is warranted.
-He told me that the Mob doesn't let kidnapping happen in Russia. It happened once where a kid was napped for ransom and the parents went to the Mob for help and the kid was returned to his parents alive, and they also received full garbage bags that had the kidnappers bodies diced into cubes.
-He rides motorcycles and never goes less than 115mph, even on the highways.
-He recommends laying flat on your back all alone in the middle of an open field for several hours to get a clear mind.
-He is a daredevil and at one time swam with sharks (apparently a non-Jaws kind) and put some shield on his arm then attached meat to it. That is his idea of fun.
-He rock climbs without ropes and once got stuck and had to call 911 from 500 feet up a rock face.

The whole time he was chatty chatty chatty. I will believe anything you tell me so long as it makes sense, so for a while I was totally on board with his stories, but the more he talked, the more I was like 'this guy is kinda off.' I started wishing I knew more about psychology so I could profile him and figure out if/how he was going to kill me in order to avoid it. A good two hours later, three screens were built and finally installed (btw not all the windows were the same size, but he assumed they were and just kind of 'made it work'-- dislike). He slowly cleaned up his mess. This is it, get ready to be attacked. He kept TALKING and said I should go sky diving or something to "live a little" (after talking about his risky lifestyle he was unimpressed when I had no stories offer). How clever, he wants me to live a little, but he's going to kill me! But, he didn't have a tarp. He didn't have a rope or any duct tape. He left pretty uneventfully. I'm perplexed... and still paranoid. He knows where I live. He knows I live along (me and my big mouth...). He is a repairman for the building so he's bound to be back. Needless to say I will continue to lock all four locks on my door. But I'm sure he'll find a way around them. He's probably reading this right now.

This is why I should watch less TV. My imagination goes amuck.

Oh snap.

I am in a very foul mood.

For the second week in a row now, I have come home from a soccer game wanting to hang up my cleats forever. What's the deal?!
I'm almost over last week, but today-- oh today. Livid.
First of all, my expectations were high-- it was still daylight (first time since playing here) and it was 60 degrees! Totally set it up for bliss. I arrived to the field that took seriously like 45 minutes to get to due to rush hour, and discovered it is grass. FML. I haven't played on grass consistently since high school and I hate playing on grass. I will admit it, I am a full blown turf snob. Not only does it make for a more consistent and predictable bounce on the ball, it is way less brutal on my achy breaky knees. Grass turns your legs into cement blocks. and your feet into sledge hammers. THEN we only had seven people show up-- again flash back to high school club soccer. It SUCKS playing even one man down, much less FOUR. Not even the sunny weather could negate the grass and lack of teammates. But we played on-- within five running steps my knee caught funny and didn't stop throbbing for the next 90 minutes. About 20 minutes into the first half I took a spill (as I ricocheted off some large man) right on to my right patella-- which has been and continues to be the bane of my existence. Every step on the uneven and SUPER LONG grass was brutal. My touch was so incredibly horrendous due to the rugged terrain and a dysfunctional right leg. When my touch is off, all bets are off. That's the one 'thing' I could ever claim in the game (that and 'vision'... ugh). I am not fast and no matter how hard I have tried to be, speed is something I do not excel in. So granted-- I was kind of bumbling around out there- AT RIGHT WING NO LESS. Probably the WORST position I could be put in. UGH. People slowly started to trickle in leisurely. I'm sorry, I was taught that if you're late, you are RUNNING to the field. When tardy turds saunter in giggling and chatting with spectators I want to throw up on them. At on particular point, I got called for a lame foul-- some thick foreign man was shielding the ball but his legs were SO FAR apart so I poked my foot between his legs to get the ball from behind him. Apparently that's not allowed. A tardy teammate who was SITTING on the sideline as she casually put her shoes on goes "From behind," in such a know-it-all-I'm-perfect-you-suck-how-do-you-sleep-at-night way. I raised my eyebrows at her and said, "Thank you, I'm aware." (...even though I didn't know that was a foul.. whatever). The rest of the game this girl talked to me like I was four years old and had never even HEARD of the sport of soccer in my life, much less played and coached for many many years. I can't even articulate the ludicrous nature of her tone. It pissed me off SO SO SO much. Once it was our goal kick and the goalie had to go quite a ways to retrieve the ball, so I took advantage of that time and was walking to where I needed to be. She yells to me "HEY! GET WIDE... ALL THE WAY TO THE SIDELINE ON GOAL KICKS." I looked at her again and said "I'm on my way there, thank you." I didn't try to hide my pissed off tone. She said the same thing to me again maybe ten minutes later-- I hadn't NOT gotten wide, I hadn't been out of position-- if there were reason for her to correct me, then I might not get as upset, but when it's totally unjustified, I don't tolerate it well. This time I yelled to (at?) her "I KNOW. I AM GOING. I AM CREATING THE SPACE. I AM DOING WHAT I NEED TO. THANK YOU." She shutup a little bit after that. A while later she asked if I wanted to play center and she could play wing, undoubtedly because she thought she could do better at wing, and fine, she probably could. So I accepted the offer enthusiastically. GUESS WHO DIDN'T GET WIDE. GUESS WHO DIDN'T COME BACK TO MARK UP. --EVEN WORSE-- GUESS WHO GOT YELLED AT BY THE SWEEPER TO MARK HER PLAYER WHEN SHE STAYED UP TOP?!?!?! ME. The next time she failed to come back, I yelled to her that she needed to get back-- that didn't go over well.. soo the next time I just picked up her person, trying to turn the other cheek. She kept looking back at me and then looking to the middle (where I should have been) and then she goes "Why don't you go back to the middle?" And I pointed to HER mark and said "Well, I'm marking this player right now, so I was going to stay on her, but if you want to come back and do your job, I'd love to go to the middle." I was so cheezed off by the entire game at this point. I drove through rush hour traffic to play on a shitty field to hurt myself to play in a game where I apparently was in capable of even knowing what to do to get yelled at and bossed around my a know it all snatch who wouldn't even follow her own instructions. AND WE LOST. No thank you I have no desire to be a part of that.
What happened to the game where we pass to feet and work the ball up the field as a team? What happened to the game where we work together and play GOOD soccer? What happened to the game where we relied on skill and intelligence and vision as opposed to speed and how hard you can push? It is so unfortunate that a potentially awesome 90 minutes can be spoiled by a few who really just suck in their attitude and demeanor towards others. It is more unfortunate that I haven't found a way to rise above those boogers in the punch bowl and enjoy the game regardless of their antics.
UGH. I swear she is the spawn of Troy.
For the record-- I do accept constructive criticism. If I am f-ing it up consistently, by all means, offer your two cents. I know that being on the field doesn't offer the time or environment to sugar coat anything so things often come across as curt or mean. I totally acknowledge that and can accept instructions in whatever tone when it is called for . But even though I was not the super star of the game today, I was not the peon that this tool-ette made me out to be and her conduct was completely un-called for. UGH the more I think about it the more I want to never play again-- with her or not. Doesn't seem worth it to get so riled up. I could seriously rant for a lot longer, but I'd say it's gone long enough.
(Final note: it's been quite some time since I've been THIS irritated-- it seriously reminds me of my senior season at NP-- and when I got to this point in frustration and fury I dealt with it by running (because Lord knows I didn't expend any physical energy warming that damned bench-- lets not go there). But right now it is all I can do to walk to the shower and stand in there long enough get clean. I am 24 years old but I might as well be 80. I even have the wrinkles for it. Wah).

Aquatic Aspirations

Swimming. Oh, swimming. I miss the pool I frequented in Chicago. Today as I was rallying myself to hit the gym, a coworker called and asked if I wanted to go swim with her at a 24 Hour Fitness up north. There's pretty much nothing I will say no to socially at this point-- beggars can't be choosers. So despite the fact that I haven't been swimming since ... sometime in October, I suited up and went. We actually did some cardio on some goofy machines (think elliptical on steroids...) for a bit then headed to the pool. I get nervous before any workout. Today, my baseline anxiety was increased due to the fact that it'd been so long since my last aquatic workout and that I was accompanied by someone I know and will see again on a regular basis. If I'm alone at a gym I can tell myself 'It doesn't matter how silly you look, you'll never see these people again.' Fortunately, it wasn't as bad as I made it out to be in my head. My workout companion isn't a super star swimmer so I didn't feel overly ridiculous, and we only stayed in the pool for about 15... maybe 20 minutes. Compared to what I did for swim workouts in the past that's cake.
Swimming today, though, made me wish I would swim more. 'Then do it, clown,' I think to myself... My excuse for not swimming is lame but apparently legit as it has prevented me from kicking and flapping since I got here: the only 24HF locations with pools are uber far away. Downtown isn't ridiculously far, BUT it IS ridiculously crowded and I cannot get over the paying for parking issue. The one we went to today is at least a 30 minute drive from me and that's without traffic. Boo! Perhaps there is hope though, as my coworker told me that she heard from a front desk attendant at the Express 24HF we both frequent that they are building a 'Sport' location not far from it. Supposedly in six months there will be a 24HF with a pool and spinning classes within practical reach. I want to believe it, I really do, but I can't help but think "Yea right." We'll see, I suppose. I'd love for them to prove me wrong.
I've had a love hate relationship with swimming over the years. I hated it when I started my freshman year of high school-- probably because I didn't know how to swim... but by senior year I loved it so much that I begged my parents for a membership to the YMCA so I could swim before school during the rest of the year after the season ended. In college I continued that habit-- while at Anderson I swam 3 days a week with a friend before classes. The pool there was DIVINE-- ohmygoodness, I get goosebumps just thinking about it. And the best part is that it opened at like 5:30am. Man of all the things I hated at that school, I sure loved their gym. Once at North Park I was worried that swimming wouldn't be possible, but then I was grateful to learn of the partnership NP had with a VERY nearby school that allowed us to use their fitness facilities, including their really good pool (even though I got WICKED pinkeye from it my sophomore year... I won't hold a grudge because it was so good to me other than that incident). So that discovery was great and then I saw a poster on campus for a swim club. While we were small in numbers we were fierce in determination and discipline. Man, I miss it!
So remembering all the swimming makes me want to get back to it. Lets see if I can rationalize the drive.. or the parking fee.. (ugh)...
When swimming today, even for a few short minutes-- my arms were like cement blocks thrashing through the water. I'm at the ground zero of fitness and I do not like it.

I also tried sushi for the first time today and was pleasantly surprised that it was not only bearable, but pretty good. I do keep burping seaweed though, which is less than awesome.

Courthouse Shoutout

Last week I went home for just under a week. I love that my job isn't a typical 9-5, and that I can have several days off in a row without having to request vacation. Going home was great and a good change of setting. I've fallen into quite a funk here and getting away for a few days helped to reset my mental mindset (so far, anyways.. I've only been back for like four days..). While at home I went to the 24 Hour Fitness there. It was very not impressive. The more gyms I try, the more I am convinced that the Courthouse is the only gym I will ever have success at. I know it's probably all in my mind, but still.. that place is heavenly. At 24 Hour Fitness in Salem, I went to the spinning class and wanted to die it was so awful. Yes, it was challenging but the instructor was super sub par and it was in a teeny weeny poorly ventilated room. To top it off an old man biking next to me (who was pleasant and chatty before class) asked me as we were wiping down the bikes "How was it?" and when I replied "It was hard!" he nodded his head and said "I can tell..." as he pointed to my face that was BRIGHT red due to physical exertion after a long stretch of sedentary living due to being uber sick. (...lets face it, my face turns red whether I'm in shape or not... but STILL). I swear I attract some rare characters and comments in spinning classes. I was grateful when my grandma let me be her guest at my favorite gym and I lifted in their well equipped and low traffic weight room then went to a real spinning class and enthusiastically suffered through it. I can't say it enough that the Group Ride is so fantastic. I wish with every ounce of my being that the Courthouse would open up a branch in Seattle. They would have one very dedicated member at least. I've been trying to be more diligent in consistent exercise since I've been back. It's crazy how six months ago I would have a panic attack if I missed one day of running, and now I have to constantly bargain with and beg myself to get off my tuckus. Today I even went to the downtown 24 Hour Fitness (for the first time since moving here... 5 months ago...) to do a spinning class there. It obviously isn't the Courthouse but it was better than the Salem 24HF experience. I will probably be going back. I definitely got lost on my way though-- even WITH a GPS! Ha-- how pathetic am I?! And of course it was about 5:30 so rush hour traffic was fierce. Always an adventure.

Anywhooo another rambling post. Nothing terribly exciting or interesting, but hopefully life will spice up a little in the near future. We'll see. I start days in May-- and I am very excited.

Near Death

On March 12th I woke up feeling fine. On my way to the gym later in the morning, I noticed my head felt stuffy but shrugged it off. When I got home I couldn't ignore the sick feeling that was rapidly overtaking me. Despite the sense of impending doom (which by the way is a real medical symptom, but is used as hyperbole here), I embraced social opportunity that afternoon with some coworkers. I got home around 7pm (we party hard around here...) and was febrile. So began one of the longer lasting bouts of sickness I've endured in quite some time. A wicked bad sore throat and fever initially made me think strep, but I hate doctors so I decided to wait it out. This suspicion was thwarted by the nasal congestion and ...drainage that ensued a few days later. One of the more exciting parts was not being able to sleep. I never have trouble sleeping so this was problematic. As I would fall asleep I would start to feel like I couldn't breathe! I had mini dreams that I was drowning-- not conducive to peaceful sleep (unless its the eternal sleep and I'm not interested in that). I called in sick to work Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. On Wednesday I had lost my voice COMPLETELY. Talking on the phone is quite a challenge when you can't speak! On Friday afternoon my mom came up to make sure I wasn't actually dying. It was good to have her here both for company and her help. I was hoping by the time she got here I would be well on my way to cured, but that was not the case. I slept a LOT which was needed because the week before had robbed me of precious REM. I resorted to drugging myself with Nyquill. That stuff takes awhile to get out of my system. I was quite the drugged up hostess. Regardless, I enjoyed her visit and am grateful for the proximity that allows such last minute visits. I went to work last night feeling mostly better-- just a lingering cough. The air in the hospital is SO DRY-- so I came home this morning with a sore throat, which often happens after staying up all night at work even if I haven't been sick before hand. I'm trying to kick the Nyquill so I only got about 4 hours of sleep today (still a significant improvement from pre-Nyquill days). I'm supposed to work Wednesday and Thursday night, too, so hopefully I feel a little better then. I used up all of my sick time... and then some. Apparently it accrues like vacation time... the more hours you work the more sick time hours you get. I had accrued 24 (2 shifts), but I definitely called in three. I think that just means I take a no pay for one of them... but I'm not sure. Hope I didn't break any big rules with that one... fact of the matter is I couldn't have worked despite the lack of available sick time. We'll see! So eleven days later, I'm pretty much better... just a sore throat and some obnoxious cough lingering.
I didn't participate in the 5k run I signed up for this weekend, but I did go get the shirt. I'm such a poser. I haven't run in 11 days. I was slowly (...very slowly) making my comeback, so this is a significant setback. I swear, if it's not one thing, it's another.

"Girrrl, you crazy."

After SEVERAL weeks of waiting-- I got the golden email this morning that went a little something like this:

Dear Kristin,

Recently you applied for a day/night rotator position. Good news... of those that applied you have the highest seniority and the position is yours! Please confirm before I proceed and officially fill the position with your name.

The clouds opened up and the angels started singing-- what glorious news! One step closer to normalcy. I am sooo grateful and can't wait to embrace day shift. Even though days are absolute mayhem.. I will endure the chaos with a smile because it will be daytime and I will be awake... like normal people should be. Win.

I don't have anything to write about lately. My right knee has been hurting more than EVER which has been concerning and has made running rather sucky (... lets be honest my lack of cardiovascular endurance hasn't helped much either..).

I had a CRAZY dream last night. I dreamt I was staying at my parents' house but I was doing the Chicago Triathlon (and it was in Salem). For some reason, the morning of the race I jogged to transition. But it wasn't a normal jog it was like I'd take a step and be suspended in mid air for three seconds then I'd land-- I was frustrated with how slow it was (hmm wonder how that reflects to real life... durrr). I was about a mile from my parents house when I realized "I FORGOT MY BIKE!" So I had to turn around and float-jog back (all of this is happening with me in my Team in Training spandex with my giant soccer backpack on-- naturally). So I finally made it back and burst through the door to what seemed like a home improvement store and was bawling but had no tears. I was explaining everything to my mom. By this point it was getting light outside, and its known that if you're not at transition before dawn then the masses of people will slow you down and you're screwed. I had it in my mind that transition closed at 6am and it was already 5:15 and I had to get downtown--dismal. I thought, 'Well I can get there faster if I ride my bike.' Right THEN I remembered that my bike tires were FLAT (which is true in real life because I haven't ridden it in so long..). This made me more upset in my dream because I needed a pump that accommodates a presta valve, and I didn't have one. My mom said something about seeing papers that said transition was open until 8am. So I figured I could load my bike into my car, have my dad go down to transition with me and drop me off so I wouldn't have to worry about parking. Once there I would try to borrow someone's bike pump. In the midst of rallying my troops, there was a voice-over saying something about for the first time ever transition would be open until 8am and that they couldn't predict what challenges this might cause. I was relieved by that but still panicked, I was VERY late. For some reason unbeknownst to me, 'loading up' meant getting a ridiculously large trailer of sorts down from a steep hill that magically appeared to the left of my parents' house/home improvement store. By this time it was pure daylight and it was very warm-- the universe's way of reminding me of my tardiness. I ran to the top of the hill thinking I could get it myself but then I realized how HUGE it was. The neighbors were out in their yard and gave me the "Girrrl, you crazy.." look. I called down for my family (my sister suddenly appeared, too) to help. Then I woke up.
What the heck? Dreams kind of fascinate me but I wish I knew what they meant. Obviously I am concerned about not being prepared for any triathlons. It is no secret that being late is something I passionately despise. Why does my subconscious have to remind me? While I am grateful for the state of modern medical technology that I live in , I wish scientists had a clearer understanding of dreams--- how they form, what they mean, etc. Lately I have been having a lot of lucid dreams, too. I can't decide if it's cool or creepy. It's all probably a result of the ridiculously irregular sleep schedule I'm on. Lose.
There's a tangent for ya. Shoot.

Confession

Confession: while the night shift can be equally as chaotic as day shift, there are also times when it is absolutely mind numbingly boring. Last night to pass the time I read about how terrible working graveyard shift is for one's overall health. It may have been a small private pity party.

Confession: Several months ago I decided to motivate myself by signing up for a half marathon. I gave myself a solid three months to train for a 13.1 mile race on March 20th. HA. I can barely sputter out three miles at a pace oh so slightly faster than walking. I emailed the race people to see if they would switch my registration to the 5k that will also happen that day. They said yes which is nice because now I can wear the t-shirt without being a poser and it's not a complete waste of money. But still, writing that email was mortifying.

Confession: I slept for almost 24 hours straight the other day (and night).

Confession: (this one's a doosey) ...i think i miss chicago... shh, don't tell. Maybe that's not 100% accurate--- I miss that I KNEW PEOPLE there. Starting over is some lonely business, let me tell you. It is gradually getting better, but much slower than I'd like. Then again, it seems as though things in life that take a while to happen are most enduring. So let's hope whatever social life I grow ends up being worth the wait.

I'm applying for a loan repayment program offered by the government. If accepted I have to commit to working at a critically short staffed facility for at least two years. The hospital I'm at qualifies, so no qualms there. Here is my plan: if I get accepted (they took like 700 something last year out of ~10,000 applicants... I'm not holding my breath) then I will definitely stay put for the two years, and depending on everything maybe the third that you can apply for (it takes the 60% repayment of your loans to I think 75%). If I don't get it, I will fulfill a year here and then see if travel nursing is a possibility again. Everyone at work always talks about travel nursing and how they've done it at one point and loved it, or how they can't wait until they get an opportunity to do it. Their excitement is contagious so... we'll see. Not having roots or attachments is awesome in the sense that I can do what I want when I want to do it. That will be the silver lining I cling to.

P.U.

One thing that outdoor running holds over treadmill running is fresh air. It seems that within the running community there are a number of GI issues. I will be the first to admit that I toot a little more when I run than when I'm not running (if I ever run outdoors with you, it WILL be prefaced with "Just so you know, I fart when I run." But if we're side by side on a treadmill I won't dare warn you unless there are only two treadmills or we're the only two in the building, otherwise it could be ANYONE). GI issues or not, it makes sense-- things get jostled up and moved along. In this regard, treadmill running stinks... literally. The only thing worse than fighting tooth and nail for cardiovascular health on a treadmill is trying to do so when it smells like epic poo all around you. Everyone has been the culprit (and if you haven't then you're lying), but it doesn't make it any more tolerable when you're the victim. Perhaps one more reason to run outside. Perhaps.

War Victory (...i think)

My parents came up this past weekend to visit and for a late birthday celebration. It was good to see them and do some Seattle exploring. We rode the bus downtown and went on the Underground Tour. It was very interesting and was probably the first history lesson I retained. We also walked around Lake Washington a bit at Magnuson Park. I can't wait until summer here, being outside will be so much more fun. Given-- it is eight thousand times more fun here than it was in Chicago, but it's still chilly and rainy.
Preparing for my parents arrival was something else. I have been quite the worker-bee. I worked the 21st, 22nd, and 23rd, then had the 24th off, then worked the 25th, 26th, and 27th. My parents arrived late on the 29th. My '6 out of 7 days' stretch was all on the night shift, so after working the night of the 27th, the 28th was absolutely shot. The 28th, I had to force myself out of bed at 5pm to play in a soccer game that evening. It was a good game, we won. Afterward the team I played with decided to go to a bar to celebrate/socialize. I was SO excited-- finally some socialization outside of work! I had carpooled to the game with a girl I went to college with and her friend. We got to the bar and they obviously asked to see our ID's. I handed mine to the lady and prayed the expiration date (printed in red right under my picture) wouldn't be an issue. Unfortunately it wasn't a stupid woman checking ID's, so I was asked to leave. I hate to be a kill-joy, so I insisted my carpoolers stay and enjoy while I sat in the car. I called my mom to figure out their schedule in coming up here the next day, and texted about everyone in my contacts list (not REALLY, dad, calm down). A good two and a half to three hours later my carpool compadres came back and I finally got home around 10:15pm-- freezing (never thought to turn the heat on in the car...) and starving.
Over the previous seven days, my apartment turned pretty ugly. Cinnamon still lined the baseboards, dishes consumed the sink and surrounding counter space, the garbage was smelling quite rank, vacuuming was needed... everywhere, the bathroom was an issue of its own... etc. Lucky for me, I had slept the whole day and purely out of habit had taken my stimulants when I woke up that afternoon. So, I was AWAKE. I first tackled the dishes because they were grossing me out. They took a good hour and a half and then after wiping down the counters I moved to the floors. Cinnamon, while a great ant repellent, is a beyotch to clean up. My plan was to sweep then dust bust what I couldn't reach with the broom. First of all, as I was assessing the situation I saw THREE ANTS trying to break through the cinnamon! Oh, hell no! I thought. I needed to RAID the place stat. I swept that cinnamon up so fast! When you sweep cinnamon across a white-ish linoleum it leaves a brown smear. It's really gross. I put a LOT of cinnamon on the floor so, even after it was swept it looked pretty icky. After swiffer sweeper-ing like crazy and getting on my hands and knees to get some spots with a Clorox wipe... I got the most of it up. (I also felt like a meth addict at this point-- It was 3am by now and here I am crawling around my kitchen trying to make the floor SHINE!) Once the cinnamon was gone I busted out the RAID and doused the baseboards. I was/am troubled by the sound it makes when it hits the surface... it sizzles for like three seconds. It's a good thing these floors are in sad shape to begin with because I'm pretty sure the RAID damaged them. Whoops. All this is to say-- at the risk of sounding overly confident and looking like a fool later-- I think I won the war. YES. I cleaned some other things half heartedly and finally surrendered at 6am and went to sleep.
I woke up at noon and decided to go get my drivers license figured out. The embarrassment of being banished to the car the night before PLUS the anticipation of a lecture from my law abiding father motivated me to find the documents that I didn't have during my last attempt and give it another go. It took awhile (the DMV is apparently the place to be at 3pm on a weekday afternoon!), but I got it and got home in time to finish cleaning before the 'rents arrived. Phew. Not long after they got here, my downstairs nemesis started his antics and I flipped out. It was almost midnight when he STARTED his noise. So, I impatiently waited for him to realize the error of his ways and turn it down himself. When he failed to do that, I did what any mature young woman would do. I sent my dad down. They exchanged words, and from my understanding their interaction went very differntly than the times I have gone down there. But-- he turned it down and my dad was the hero. He also confirmed my suspicions that they are "stoned out of their minds!" Oh Reefer, just leave me alone. About an hour after my parents left on Sunday he was back to intolerable volumes. A trinket fell off of the bookselves from the vibrations. I emailed the apartment manager who affirmed my complaint and said he'd post something about the noise rule on the offedners' door. Lets see if it does any good. I looked for said noise rule in my lease and this is what I found: "Tenant, faimly, and guest shall have due regard for the peace and enjoyment of other tenants in the Building. The level of noise within any unit whether it originates from television, stereo, conversation, or any other source must be such that it cannot be heard in any adjoining unit." Evict the clowns.
I'm now enjoying significant time off! I don't have to work until Friday night. It will be another long stretch, but I'm grateful for the time I have now to catch my breath.

I have won the battle...

Dear cardiovascular fitness that I once briefly held in my grasp: where in tarnation did you go?! Come back to me, I beg you.

War update: I have won the battle. Cinnamon WORKS WELL. Don't judge me, but I still have the same cinnamon barricade along the baseboards of the kitchen. Just this morning I bought Raid, and have yet to actually sweep up the cinnamon and spray (I blame night shift for the delay... and everything askew in my life, lets be honest). I'm nervous to spray Raid in the kitchen... I guess it's just on the floor so it should be okay... right?

Tonight is my last night on orientation. I will have one night off (Sunday night), then work three in a row... solo. Vomit worthy? Yes. I have noticed a theme both at my previous job and my present one that people's first night off orientation always ends traumatically. Whatever can go wrong will, whatever patient is supposed to be the stable one ends up going downhill unexpectedly, etc. Truthfully, I don't vividly remember my first night off orientation in Chicago, which suggests that nothing was uber terrible (unless it was so bad that I repressed it and will come back to haunt me in my middle-adulthood... something to look forward to!). So I'm nervous. Generally speaking if you work several shifts in a row, efforts are made to give you the same patient assignment as it provides consistency in care and for the family, which is usually awesome. However, my assignments the past two nights (and I'm assuming tonight) have been rather intense, and I would definitely appreciate something slightly simpler as I forge the waters on my own. After the second three-in-a-row, I'll have eight glorious days off and I am genuinely looking forward to that!

The Great War of Apartment #104

I'll blame my lack of posts and lack of excitement in this post on night shift. Enough said.

About an hour and a half ago, I walked into my kitchen to turn the light off as I was going to bed. I looked down on the floor and saw a smooshed raisin. Gross. I knelt down to pick it up and throw it away, but as my delicate fingers made contact a thousand ants scurried in all directions. EW. EW EW EW. I have ants! THEY ARE SO GROSS. I grabbed my Windex+Vinegar, cursing myself for getting a 'natural cleanser,' of all times I really wanted some hardcore, non-diluted BLEACH right then. Thus initiated The Great War of Apartment #104. Me vs. Ants. I spent quite a while soaking the sick little critters with my pansy cleaner, then I gagged as I cleared the battlefield. I then went straight to the internet to find good ways to get rid of ants. I plan on getting RAID as soon as stores open, but I don't want them to gain ground between now and then. I saw things like mint, pepper, cinnamon, and pure vinegar will get rid of them. Something about the strong smell or something. I have a LOT of pepper, so I went with that first-- as soon as I started sprinkling it around the bases of the cabinets (where they were coming from because this old building has essentially ZERO caulking throughout.. don't get me started..) I realized that pepper on the ground looks like a million little ants. I sprinkled it all around anyways in a fit of insanity. Then I saw a bugger lost in the middle of the (off)white linoleum. I decided to sprinkle pepper right on top of it to see what it would do (hoping it would roll over and die). It definitely panicked at first.. then it got out of the pepper and started heading away from it, BUT then it turned around! It returned to the pepper and started scavenging within it! WTF?! So then I got out the cinnamon. I saw another ant in a bare space so I dumped some cinnamon on him and watched. HE FLIPPED. He sped away from the cinnamon and didn't look back. I put cinnamon in his path and he avoided it like the Plague. So-- I swept up all the pepper and replaced it with cinnamon. It has been VERY messy. I shoved cinnamon so far in the cracks that I don't think I'll ever get it out. But I am PRAYING that it will keep the ants at bay until I can get some serious chemical warfare to unleash on them. I feel like they're crawling all over me. VOMIT. All because of ONE LITTLE RAISIN! Seriously.

As if my unwelcome friends are not enough, my rock band downstairs neighbor is STILL at it. I even initiated mature confrontation and went down to his apartment, rang the doorbell and said "I live above you. Can you please turn your music down?" For a good 24 hours it was a dull roar instead of deafening noise and I was quite pleased with myself. But all good things must come to an end. I think I'll ask one more time and then I will feel justified complaining to the manager. It blows my mind that he thinks it's an appropriate thing to BLAST music SO LOUDLY when living in such close proximity. Honestly-- he'd have to live on Mars for that to be an appropriate volume. Poor volume awareness is one of my biggest pet peeves. coughnicolecough

I have decided to not write about running for a while. It isn't something that is pleasing me at ALL. So please refrain from asking about it (...mom).

I have ONE MORE WEEK on orientation and then I'm flying solo. EEK! I seriously thought I had two weeks left. Nay. That is three shifts until I have to go it alone. Ulcer worthy. I'm pretty sure I have an ulcer already. I had a TERRIBLE dream that I was talking to my boss and she said "It looks like it will be quite a while until a day position opens up..." I remember that (in my dream) I pasted on a fake fake smile and nodded my head as I tried to be a 'team player'. Screw the team, folks, I gotta get to days. I'm going CRAZY! And now there are ANTS IN MY KITCHEN AND IT IS 2:20AM BUT I CAN'T SLEEP BECAUSE I'M AFRAID THAT ANTS WILL CRAWL INTO MY MOUTH BECAUSE I'M A MOUTH BREATHER! This is why daytime hours are best for me.

FML

Generally speaking I am enjoying my new life in Seattle and am pleased with my decision to move. It would be silly to assume that everything would be perfect, but that's life-- there's always going to be a few things that are less than spectacular. Over the past few days it seems like those irritating things are overshadowing their awesome counterparts, and because it's my blog and I can write whatever I want, they are as follows:

*I am living above an aspiring rock musician. He smokes, is unttractive, and has a really weird cough (so any of you thinking "Maybe he's your McDreamy!" you're wrong). I don't think he's actually playing anything himself, but the "music" coming from his very fancy sound system is ridiculous and obnoxious. The mind numbingly irritating nature of this noise will be potentiated by the fact that...
*I start night shift on Monday. This means daytime sleep will once again be something I practice regularly irregularly. To start my downfall with a bang, the scheduling gods decided to have me work day shift on Saturday and Sunday, then start nights Monday and Tuesday. Wtf.
*I have been under the weather for three days. I am pretty sure that the culprit is a little kiddo that got put on viral isolation in the middle of the day I was taking care of her.
*Tuesday I had to make up the afternoon of Orientation I missed due to my sudden sickness during Week One at work. At the end of the day a representative from the nurses union came to talk about the union. I was looking forward to this as I have no idea how unions work-- we didn't have one in Chicago. She didn't say anything super helpful, and the part that makes this situation worthy of the "FML List" is that union dues are absolutely ridiculous! It's over $800 a YEAR! Please join me in my outrage-- $68 every month will be going to 'the union.' I don't WANT a union! I was sooo put off that at the end of the schpiel I went up to the lady and asked if being a union member is optional, and when she said "No," I asked her to tell me something that would make me feel better about paying them $800 a year. She rambled off nonsense reasons like we'll get a Journal in the mail every month, etc. Excuse me, it had better be one HELL OF A JOURNAL that is printed on GOLD PAPER for it to be worth EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS A YEAR! Not a one time payment of $800, but EVERY YEAR. SERIOUSLY-- think about how many nurses there are... and EACH one is giving EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS?!?!? Someone is making serious bank and to me it seems CRIMINAL.
*My drivers license expires on Wednesday. Yesterday, I went to the DMV to not only renew it but get it transferred to my new state of residence. After waking up early and getting dolled up (quite a long process) in anticipation of a new picture being taken, I drove to the far away DMV (several of them are closed indefinitely) only to realize as I pulled into the parking lot that I forgot my proof of address. So I drove back and got a "Proof of Address" card the public library sent me, drove alllllll the way back to the office. It was a pleasantly short wait only to be told that my proof of address wasn't one of the acceptable forms. Apparently, one needs super official mail-- something from the government, utilities bill (mine won't come until mid-February), cable bill (yea right), anything government issued with the current address on it... etc. Bottom line is I don't have any of these things. One can be a pay stub, but the only pay stub I have is detached from the garbage part with the address on it. I only kept the necessary part. They won't even accept a copy of my lease! wtf?! All of this is to say that I drove to the DMV twice and still don't have a license that will last more than five days (and I'm working 4 out of those 5 days and will be sleeping on the 5th.)
*Despite the fact that my head feels like a hot air balloon, I decided to play in an outdoor soccer game I found on Craigslist-- I feel like these opportunities are few and far between and didn't want to let one slip by. I should have let it slip. The highlight: I took a ball to the face, kicked by some male toolshed trying to prove his masculinity by how hard he can kick the ball, nevermind if it was to a teammate or AT an innocent opponent. Face-balls (insert immature middle school boy chuckle here) hurt under any circumstance... the fact that I have a budding sinus infection and that my frontal and maxillary sinuses are oh so tender made it that much worse. It wasn't awesome. It was ridiculously cold (not in comparison to the frigid Midwest, but still very uncomfortable). I seriously considered leaving at half time.

It's my sincere hope that life will shift back to the pleasant side sooner than later. I am encouraged by one thing: when living in Chicago if I'd had a week like this (and trust me, there were PLENTY of these weeks), I would get that much more enthusiastic about leaving that city. However, this week hasn't started me on a search for a new city. It hasn't done much but piss me off to be honest. Perhaps it's the fact that it's the first rocky week, but I will hold on to the fact that it's because this is a good city to live and I like it.

"Do you want some of this?"

Preface: The D.A.R.E Program really worked for me. It completely turned me off to drugs and alcohol at an early age by promising me that if I engaged in such activities I would smell bad, lose all my friends, and do poorly in school. Perhaps I was an overly impressionable 4th grader, but I avoided smelling bad, never lost a friend due to substance abuse on my part, and graduated high school and college. Three victories in my book. However, to this day, I apparently still assume that anyone who does drugs must be a big bad criminal living under the law.

My neighbor invited me to go celebrate the New Year with her large and welcoming family. I thought... hesitated... but ultimately decided to go (in a new Yes-Woman mentality that I'm attempting). So around 12:30 I went over to her apartment and met her boyfriend who would be going with us. He was equally as kind, could carry a conversation, and just was legit. On our way we stopped at a local coffee shop (Zokas) and he even bought me a cup of Chai. Totally caught me off guard. What nice people! It was a little over an hour drive to our destination, and my neighbor and her BF played tour guide, pointing out Bill Gates' house, the new Microsoft buildings, telling me which parts of town were uppity, etc. We made another pit stop at Safeway to get flowers for the hosts. While the lady was wrapping the flowers Boyfriend went back to the car. I didn't think much of it. When we got back to the car, my neighbor said to her significant other "You look like you're up to no good.. it smells awfully green in here." I didn't really get it at first. Did he foof? It did smell funny, but not like a fart. I just chuckled along. As we pulled out of the parking lot, he got out a purple velvet bag with silver drawstrings. He opened it and pulled out what I am pretty sure was a BONG. Yes a Mary-J bong. Now I was watching in terror-- flashbacks to fourth grade with Officer Whoever saying 'Drugs are bad!' 'Don't do drugs!' 'BAAAHHHH!' I watched as he pulled out a container from his purple bag that looked like a pog container-- he flipped open the lid and out came a green little cluster. I almost fainted. I'm in the car with a DRUG LORD. I'm going to the Big House. Every one is going to think I moved here to smoke POT. Do I have a quarter to call home? My parents always said they'd come get me... what if that means driving to Seattle...? Fortunately I snapped back to reality and realized my cell phone was in my purse so no quarters were necessary. My neighbor, taking it all in stride, cracked the windows which did NOTHING for the stench. I felt nauseous. I stared out the window and tried to laugh at the appropriate parts of the conversation but am sure I failed. I couldn't focus. What if I'm getting a second hand high?! What if we get pulled over? Will I go to jail, too? What if I get lung cancer from this? THEN-- Boyfriend turns around and shoves the bong toward me! "Do you want some of this?" Immediately the 'JUST SAY NO' slogan alarmed in my head; I looked at him, cross eyed I'm sure, and replied calmly "No, I'm okay. Thanks, though." D.A.R.E. SUCCESS. So he puffed along like a chimney the rest of the way and I sat in disbelief, wondering what my neighbor's family would think of me when I showed up smelling like pot. Then I wondered if they were Cannabis enthusiasts, too... what was I getting myself into?! We arrived and it was such a fun time-- sans MaryJane. Lots of good and unhealthy food, lots of vegetarian jokes ("You're a vege-terrible???"), but such a welcoming and fun bunch of people that I sincerely hope to see again sometime. On the way Boyfriend said "If you like booze, meat, and/or football, you're going to have a great time!" This concerned me as I am not a fan of any of those... but it was a great time regardless.
Boyfriend lit up on the way back, too. I pondered my life and tried to get right with the Lord reeeal fast just in case the driver got a second hand high and we got in a fatal car crash. I saw the driver texting, too, and was sure my life would end in that car ride. Miraculously we made it back. I really enjoyed the day and am glad I went. I don't know if my reaction to the illegal substance was due to my serious naieve-ness or what. Perhaps the stereotype of the pacific northwest being pot heads is true...? I just don't know.

In other news-- I worked 5 out of the past 6 days and was pooped. The indoor soccer game was a lot of fun, even though we lost. I'm trying to figure out if it's worth it to sign up to play a season, even though I'd miss a significant amount of games due to work. My knees hurt and it was horrifying to realize how painfully out of soccer-shape I am. We'll see.

I also can't believe it's the new year. I crashed on Thursday night around 9:30pm-- it's okay to be envious of my cool-ness. 2010, eh? Here's to many new adventures in the coming year... hopefully very few of them involving marijuana.