This -n- That

I'm posting primarily to distract myself so that I don't buy new jeans and a sweater dress over at We'll see if it works.

1. You may remember that about six weeks ago Justin and I got new glasses. It has not worked out well. After wearing mine for less than a month, I left them at home, safe on the coffee table, one night when I went to work. When I spoke to Justin later that evening he told me they were broken. Not just a little broken either, completely irreparable. The metal stem that holds the earpiece on has been twisted off. We have no idea how it happened, but I suspect the cats are to blame. (Aren't they always?) In any case, I was able to glue the earpiece on, which works when I'm wearing them, but they can't be closed to fit into a case. This worked for about 2 days, until, one night at work, I was watching TV in the breakroom when a montage of ankle rolling came on. (Why!?) There is nothing that freaks me out more than ankle rolling, so I reflexively threw my hands up to cover my face, breaking the newly mended glasses. -sigh- Back to EyeMasters it is.

2. We've been invited to a Halloween party on Friday. It kind of sucks, because I'm super excited about the party (whee!), but before I received the invitation I agreed to work a 12 hour (ugh) daytime (double ugh) shift that day. Suck, suck, suck. I'm going to put it in writing, right now: I will NOT take any more day shifts. It's too hard to switch my sleep schedule back and forth and it takes a full week for me to feel rested again. It also irritates Justin. On top of my work, Justin has clinicals that day for school, and I'm not really sure how he's going to get there, I'm going to get to work, and we're going to meet up for the party. But we -are- going damnit, end of story.

3. I found out that the deductible on my insurance is less than I thought it was, and that the hospital will do payroll deduction for medical bills (something like $25 per check) and so I'm going to try and have my gallbladder out before Christmas. It's just getting worse, I'm sick all the time, and, thanks to the nice ultrasound guy, I have seen with my own eyes that there are a whole pile of stones in there. I'm scared about having surgery, but excited about the possibility of feeling better.

4. The new inhaler I got from Dr. Landry last month is not working. It's also having the same side effect as the old one (chest congestion), and my insurance doesn't cover it. I'm going to have to call and ask for something else. This is mostly a reminder for me to do that, because I keep forgetting.

So, what's going on with you this week?


Not to brag (well, maybe a little), but I made the -best- dinner tonight. The full, original recipe can be found here, gotta love that Pioneer Woman. So here's the breakdown, for those of you who don't follow links:

1 small bag of Irish potatoes. (This is about 15 or 20 little potatoes.)
4 large heads of garlic.
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/3 cup semi-dry white wine
Kosher salt
Black pepper

Quarter the potatoes, and cut the ends off the garlic, to expose all the cloves. Arrange them around the pan and drizzle with the olive oil and wine. Take extra care to coat the top of the garlic cloves. Kosher salt and pepper to taste. (I also used a little seasoned salt.)

Toss to coat.

Cover tightly with tin foil and bake at 375 for 45 minutes.

Uncover and bake for 20 minutes.

Broil on 500 for about 5 minutes.

This is when the "official" recipe ends. But here's what I did to make it a full meal:

During the last 10 minutes of cook time, I shredded up a rotisserie chicken (into large pieces), then when the potatoes and garlic came out of the oven, I mixed them with the shredded chicken. You will have to (of course) remove the roasted garlic cloves from the papery skin, and take care to smash them up a bit when you mix the chicken with the veggies. The garlic gets mild, sweet and nutty as it roasts, which is delicious, so even if you think it will be too strong, use it! I've been afraid to cook with fresh garlic for years, because it's typically not a flavor I enjoy if it's very strong, but roasted, it's a completely different flavor.

As Promised

I like Meghan McCain. I know that probably comes to a shock to any of you who are familiar with my true-blue, Democrat-to-the-core politics, but it's true. I think she's funny, smart and surprisingly reasonable for a Republican. She's definitely not one of the crazy Republicans who hang around town hall meetings stirring up trouble.

So when I found out that people were throwing a fit over a -completely- innocuous picture that she posted on Twitter, I was pissed. The critics say that she's showing too much cleavage. And yeah, there is some boob there, but it's a tank top, not a corset and panties. Meghan is a curvy girl. Unless she puts on a turtleneck, there's probably going to be cleavage going on. She commented that she was spending the night at home with a book. Looks like pajamas and bedhead to me. People need to get over it. No one's complaining about Jeff Flake's shirtless photos. In fact, he seems to be getting a lot of brownie points for that.This is a ridiculous double standard.

Rant Over.


I'm taking a suggestion from Random and posting pictures of my bookshelf. It's really dusty, because, well, I live in West Texas, and even if I dusted yesterday (and you can't prove I didn't!) it would be dusty again by today. Also, I forgot my Zyrtec this morning, so I only managed to dust the first two shelves before turning into one solid histamine reaction, so that's what you've got pictures of. You didn't want to see all the chick-lit and Terry Pratchett books anyway.  Here goes:

This is my top shelf. From left you see a picture of my feet, Other People's Love Letters, Cautionary Tales for Children by Edward Gorey (Shannon, you need this book.) Lyrical and Critical Essays by Albert Camus, My French Whore: A Love Story by Gene Wilder (It's soooo good!), The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, which was a graduation gift from my best friend in high school (Yes, I was that girl.), The Song of Songs, The Dictionary of Superstitions (because I'm highly superstitious) The Chronicles of Narnia, Ophelia by Lisa Klein (Hamlet, told from Ophelia's viewpoint),  PostSecret, The Joy of Sex (Which I didn't know was up there, and I should have moved it, because my dad is here all the time.), Human Sexuality: Diversity in Contemporary America (Which is a textbook, and therefore father-friendly.), and Mosby's Medical Dictionary. (Because Justin is in nursing school and I'm a huge geek, and wouldn't let him sell it back. Plus, I might be superstitious, but I also believe in science.)

Moving on to the second shelf:

From left: A picture of a dandelion (Yes, I took that, and I'm very proud of it.), The Quotation Dictionary (Which belonged to my Aunt Eva Pearl who used it when she went around giving Dale Carnegie talks.), The Red Tent by Anita Diamant, Bedlam: A Year in the Life of a Mental Hospital by Dominick Bosco (This book is non-fiction, and the scariest thing I've ever read.), The Secret History by Donna Tartt, The Witch of Cologne by Tobsha Learner, The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Complete Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (As I said, I'm a huge geek.), Love & Desire (This photography book is less pornographic than it sounds, but not much.), The Complete Sherlock Holmes, Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris (if you haven't read his stuff, you should.), and Listography: Your Life in Lists. (This is a really fun book, who doesn't love to make a good list? I filled it out on an airplane a year ago.).

There you have it, my bookshelf. You'll have to remember there are three more (dusty) shelves, and about a hundred books under my bed right now, but I think these are a pretty good representation of what I could be reading at any given moment.

That was fun. Thanks Random.

Come back tomorrow, when I'll talk about the "scandalous" Twitpic that Meghan McCain posted yesterday.

Bum Bum BAHHM!


The hospital I work in is recently remodeled, very stylish and generally doesn't give anyone that creepy "I'm in a hospital" feeling on their skin. That said, whoever paid for the remodel, didn't think that it was important to pretty up the non-patient areas, so the ground floor (really the basement, I don't know who they think they're kidding with that G) basically looks exactly like you'd expect a hospital built in the 50s (or maybe the 70s) to look. Plain white, slightly shoddy tile on the walls, ugly linoleum and no windows. (I told you, it's a basement.) It's all together a very different environment than the cheerful "there are no sick people here!" schtick that the rest of the building has.

Adding to the creepy, institutional feel of the place is the fact that along the hallway are a series of doors with large, yellowing signs proclaiming THIS DOOR MUST BE LOCKED AT ALL TIMES and THIS DOOR IS NOT TO BE OPENED. Every time I've been down there alone, I've walked on the opposite side of the hallway to avoid something jumping out from behind these doors. What could they possibly keep in there? Is this secretly the psych ward? Zombies? The logical part of my mind knows that it's probably just trash bins or something, but it still creeps me out. Did I mention that the cafeteria is downstairs? During the day, this negates the creep factor a bit, since there are loads of people getting meals down there. Safety in numbers, you know.

Anyway, a few nights ago I had to venture down to the ATM machine in the middle of the night, and so I boarded the elevator, completely forgetting that the basement would be even creepier after hours. I walked down the hallway totally pretending that I wasn't prepared to flee at any moment, and nearly jumped out of my skin when a transporter came running, full tilt down the hall. I may or may not have let out a strangled little "eep!" Or possibly a big faah!!! Anyway, regaining my composure and trying not to think about what he possibly could have been running -from,- I made it to the "pantry" which is what they call the vending machine room where the ATM lives. I got my cash and, feeling somewhat triumphant, headed back to the elevator.

Blocking my way was one of THE DOORS. It was open, in a direct violation of the DO NOT OPEN signs. Crap, crap, crap. I let my the reasonable part of my brain (yes, I do have a reasonable part) take over and walked past the room. Not being able to resist facing my fear, I looked to my left and I found this:

That's right, folks. A single, pink, helium-balloon. There was nothing else in there. Every time I think about it, I dissolve into giggles, because it's so weird and ridiculous. Justin thinks the lonely balloon makes it even creepier, but I love, love, love it.

I'm still not going down alone at night again.

TMI? Maybe.

I'm not exactly a seductress. Yes, I know, you're all very surprised. Don't get me wrong, I'm not an innocent Amish girl or anything, but frequently when I try to channel Bette Page, I fail miserably. (Much like the woman in this video.) Not to give too many intimate details away, (or cause anyone who might be related to me to scratch out their eyes) but I will tell you that in the (very) recent past an "event" ended with someone in the room saying "what are you doing?!" and someone else saying "I'm turning you on, I'm turning you on!!"


Oh well, it's funny least to one of the parties involved.

AND, for the record, NO ONE WAS NAKED. So stop thinking about it!

Return of the King?

Does anyone else see the face of Elvis in my massive, ugly blood work bruise? (It's not just me, Justin sees it too.)

What if I make a diagram?

 I'm pretty pleased with my Elvis bruise. Primarily because had it been an image of the Virgin Mary, there'd be a gaudy shrine in my front yard. I also might have had to remove my arm and auction it on ebay. 

Pancake Bunny?

I don't know why this bunny has a pancake on it's head, but I like it. Perhaps I need more sleep.

More weird art by Dan Lacey Here.

The New Doctor

I went to establish myself as a patient (I think that's a funny term) today with my new PCP. I was nervous, because the last time I had my very own doctor for things like the flu was 6 or 7 years ago, and she was kind of...bitchy. Since then I've just gone to the doc-in-a-box clinic, which always takes forever and exposes me to so much crap that I usually go home sicker than I was before I went in.
 So, my appointment was at 8:30am on Wednesday. I got off at 6:30, found my way over to the office (across town) and hung out, reading, in the parking lot for the next 90 minutes. It was COMPLETELY worth the wait. Those of you who follow my Twitter (over there ==>) already know that I luurrrve Dr. Landry, now I'll tell you why.

His office was comfortable, I didn't wait in the lobby for more than 5 minutes before I was called back and his staff were all super nice. (As an added bonus, I've lost 5 pounds since my work physical. Yay!)(Yes, I'm aware that 5 pounds is practically nothing, but it's not like I've been making any effort to lose weight, either.) The doctor himself was very pleasant and answered all of my questions. He appeared interested in me, as a person, not just any symptoms that I might be having, and he actually listened when I told him that I'd been having problems with some medication. He also told me that if I was feeling sick or needed to be seen for some reason, that I could always walk in at 8am or 4pm and someone in his practice would be available to see me without too long of a wait. It was the best experience I have -ever- had with a physician, and I feel almost elated. (It's similar to the feeling after a great first date. But in a totally appropriate, non-sexual tension kind of way.) I had no idea that a doctor's visit could be like that. I vote that we put Dr. Landry and Terroni in charge of health care reform. Especially the parts regarding actual patient care, not just money, which is what everyone else seems to be focusing on.