booger

If my nose were running money, honey,

I'd blow it all on you; but it's snot... no, it's snot...

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Mike Snider is qutie possibly the most entertaining bluegrass picker-and-grinner ever. Above are some of his lyrics from this song. If you play guitar, it's a must for your repertoire and easy to play... if you don't play guitar, this song is a great reason to start!

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But enough about guitars and bluegrass, I want to discuss boogers, mucous, snot, hawkers, lugies - whatever you call the slimy or crusty stuff that you make inside your nose.

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This is important to discuss because in the last couple of weeks I have noticed a disturbing trend of increased nose-picking as I drive to and from work. You've seen the pose at a red light, and maybe you're guilty of doing it yourself. You will be presented with two options later, please choose one and add it to your already established car-nose-picking routine.

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First, let's dissect the picking process. Of course I'm kidding; you know how to pick your nose. If you need a nose-picking tutorial, leave me a comment and I will be happy to oblige.

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Next, Snot 101. The purpose of your nose is to heat and help humidify air as you breathe. Just like the purpose of your eyelashes is to keep things from getting into your eyes, you also have little hair in your nose (if you're an old man you might have long hair in your nose). This hair has a purpose; to catch junk, dust, and other tiny exciting things. Your snot coats these things, and lo, a booger is born. If you're really into eating boogers at redlights, maybe you would also be interested in trying the buffet that is our apartment -- there's plenty of dust to go around and all people suffering from pica are welcome to dine in luxery. Here is some more information about research related to nose-picking.

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Finally, most people seem to pick their nose because they are bored. If you are bored-picker, there are plenty of things you can do in your car to keep you from pointing at your brain. Redlights are a prime time to work on your Kegel exercises! If you have a goofy smile like this, you might want to try car aerobics.

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I promised you two options. After carefully reading the information above, please commit to being a blatent nose-picker in public - or don't pick your nose at all in public. If you chose to be blatent, please make it as dramatic and obvious as possible. If people give you funny faces at a red light, wipe the booger on the window closest to them. Pull your nostrils up into a swine-like stance and show off your stash. Pick both nostrils at the same time. By all means, have fun with it... Just remember that there's no such thing as a sly pick. People see you and know exactly what you're doing; make them wish for a green light.

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If you're going to pick, choose to pick and grin!

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Post tally: 2 points for you if you can blow snot rockets on command. 2 additional points for each time you're obviously picking your nose in public and grossing out someone in the car next to you.

bad jokes

My wonderful husband has brought home a bad habit from work.

You might not think it's that big of a deal, but time and redundancy has made this bad habit quite awful...

Yep, you guessed it. He's bringing home adolescent school jokes.

Lately? There's a whole line of Chuck Norris Jokes that aren't funny. Yeah, Chuck Norris, the martial arts guy. Walker, Texas Ranger. There's a whole line of jokes not funny about him that are very popular with his students now... and he comes home and tells all of them he can remember to me.

Bad jokes. Stupid jokes. The Hater, my sweet husband, has lost his mind.

Do you remember when the Hellen Keller jokes weren't funny? The Hater says he heard those when he was in the third grade, and these are way funnier now... but I'm pretty sure they, too, are killing his brain cells.

Maybe I can pull a few strings to get him closer to the top for a brain transplant.

welcome, 3-day weekend

I am hereby protesting Monday. If we all band together, it can be overturned.

Come on, people, you know there is power in numbers...

Bring your banners and slogans and signs. It's time to be heard.

the dontwannas

The Hater and I have a terrible case of the dontwannas and the canthelpits. We dontwanna do anything and just canthelpit. It's the official blahs.

So to punish us, I made oatmeal for lunch. Mmm... Maybe we'd do something if I threatened to only cook oatmeal until the apartment was clean...

yawn

There's a precious little furball curled up next to me. There's few things more sweet than this.

synovial fluid

I fell asleep last night on the couch directly after supper, still in my scrubs. You might think that would hinder my sleep during the night, but it didn't. I zonked like a yule log.

There's nothing yet really exciting to tell about today, other than it's Friday, and that's always exciting. Work has been going well; I've started some fantastic peripheral IVs this week. They've probably been my hardest sticks ever, so I'm a little proud of them.

Our apartment needs to be cleaned, but I always seem to find other, more fun things to do when I have the time to wipe and mop and straighten. Maybe this weekend I'll get myself into second gear long enough to spiff-up our little pit.

It's time to finish breakfast; I hope you all have a great weekend. Do exciting things so I can live vicariously through you.

rent

We watched Rent last night and I thoroughly enjoied it! When The Hater's at his local tournament this weekend I'm probably going to watch it again, try to decide which number is my favorite.

I've also not decided where it ranks on my list of all-time-best musicals...

At work today I talked with one of my patients about it. She said that the Broadway version was fantastic and that she had heard it did not transfer to the screen so well. Having not seen any other version, I thought the story wasn't martyred for the screen... I could see how some pieces would have been great on stage.

I miss acting.

it hit the fan

My Dear Readers, today (you know what) officially hit the fan when The Hater's wallet was stolen. That's right! Stolen! Gasp-

The short version of the long story: Thank goodness for insured banks and the nice people on the phone who closed our accounts. And for everybody at our places of work who gave us the time we needed to take care of business. And that he wasn't mugged for the cash...

I'm sure the drama isn't close to being over, but it's nice to know that we'll go to bed tonight with some ease of mind, knowing we won't be responsible for their spree or poor decisions. But still... it's drama at a time where I thought I wasn't ready for more drama; here we are in the middle of it.

There's always an exciting story. Be glad you heard the abridged version.

Meanwhile, I'm also very upset that I can't check my Gmail account. It's been about four days since I've been able to check that account... so if you're sending me really neat things to read, please don't be disappointed that I've not responded. I miss my email, and if it doesn't come back soon - I might be forced to open up a can of drama for someone else.

Loverboy

The Hater has returned with much fanfare and jubilation. We've quickly fallen back into our daily routine... and although we're ready for the weekend, he has more work stuff until Sunday. So I'm more eager about greeting Friday than he.

It's about this time of the week when he starts singing this 1980s-flashback while he's getting ready for work. He'd argue that he doesn't sing it, but I'd counter that he will reference the chorus at least three times a week, which is close enough for government work.

Wednesdays in themselves are mildly excitng because it marks the half-way before Friday. It's Hump Day, the middle of the week, and all you lack is making it over the hump to the weekend. From the sincere-most bottom of my heart, happy happy Hump Day to you!

When I was in high school one of the radio stations would play a song in the mornings that had a real catchy tune. (It may have been KDF before they turned it to a country station.) Anyway, the words were:

I don't wanna go to work today.
I just wanna sit at home and play.
If I had to do it my way,
I just wouldn't go to work today.

(They also had a version that substituted 'school' for 'work'.)

This is the song that I catch myself singing during the week. I guess it doesn't matter so much that we like our jobs; we like our weekends more. We're ready to win the lottery or retire, or figure some way to stop time so that we can have more weekend.

If The Hater was more technical I'd harass him until he made such stopwatch. We might sell them on eBay, so watch our store for more details. Of course we'll offer discounts to our regular readers of this blog, and may even throw in a watch chain! How exciting! I'll keep you posted as the quantum physics and gears and new math converge...

Actually, this is more of a job for my brother-in-law; he's the mathematician magician.

Act 2, Scene 3

Drama, drama everywhere -- and nary a drop to drink. Lady McBeth would be so very impressed, and I don't think she's queen enough to take over my scene as of late.

The last few days I've been slammed with a stout sip of drama around every corner. The nurse in me wants to get some tape and fix everything, but I think I'm doing a good job being a nonbiased and objective observer. That's been my attempt, anyhow.

My friends have drama.
My family has drama.
My church has drama.
I'm caught-up in my own world of drama, too. I'm trying to think of what it is that I tell my patients who are in a place where they feel like they have lost control. They tell me I'm both eloquent and comforting, but when I try to give myself the speech I draw nil.

The good news is that I'm not going crazy. I've not been washing invisible blood stains off of my hands. I'm not wandering around in my pajamas. Fair is foul, and foul is fair, etc.

And -- SCENE!

chilly down with the fire gang

I didn't request the sleet and snow... and Harrison and I don't do slick roads, so it was by the grace of God and my good friend that I had something to do outside of my apartment this weekend.

Friday after work I went to a craft store, anticipating cold weather during The Hater's absence... I found a mosaic picture frame kit and some paint-by-numbers on clearance. I made the frame Friday night and painted all day Saturday. It was fun times because I've embraced my dorkness.

I would have painted again today, but my friend gave me other options... and we ate lunch, went grocery shopping, and listened to Annie while we put together a puzzle and ate homeade soup. Good times. And tasty, too. So it was a good day.

A cold, sleety day, but a good day nonetheless. I'm not any more ready for the weekend to be over, and I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't already mourning Monday morning.

One quick story before I turn into a pumpkin: Friday night I stayed late at work to help some people and didn't get h0me until close to 7pm. It was dark and cold outside, and I dropped off all of my goodies at the door to turn on the heat. I was coming across the corner of the hall when I heard someone typing on the keyboard. What? I was the only person here, it couldn't've been someone typing on the keyboard! Like a scene out of any proud scary movie, our heronie tiptoed around the corner thinking about all of the scary movies she'd seen warning people not to look in the closet -- and I held my breath as I entered the dark, bonus room, listening to the clickety-click-click of the keyboard, nobody was in the chair. This probably should have made me feel better, but I immediately thought that I might have rather it been a real person as opposed to a ghost... but I plowed onward... And as I crept slowly upon the keyboard, looking for keys that typed themselves, instead I found the same, boring, not typing keyboard - still sitting next to the window as it was sleeting outside.

My clickety-clicks were frozen precipitation, and it's been so long since I've heard or seen rainfall around here that I'll take any scare to turn the brown grass back to green. I'm aching for some green... and did I mention that it's still cold out??

Post tally: Two points for you if you caught the Labrynth reference, with five additional points if you can sing the song. One point if you prefer the original Annie to the Disney version. One additional point can be added for every 'oh-no-there's-a-ghost-in-my-closet-type-scare' that you've had.

pencil me in

The Hater left me this morning around 5am. He'll be back either Monday or Tuesday... and between now and then he'll be in Boston doing work-related excitement in the snow. Last night I looked to see what the weather was going to be doing in Cambridge, and he can look forward to highs in the 30s this weekend. What I saw didn't suggest any precipitation, but he says that there's still snow on the ground from a couple of weeks ago. Brrrr...

I wish I could say I had some exciting weekend plans, but so far my social calander has been taken by the cat. I might do something Saturday night with a friend, after she gets done with her work-stuff. There might be a random trip to Hobby Lobby after work today -- because there's nothing much more fun than looking for a cheap project.

I'd pick up some of my cross-stictching, but Zoloft won't leave me alone when the thread comes out of its baggie... I've got some watercolors and may paint. It's not supposed to get any warmer, but if it does I might take my guitar to a park and scare the birds.

The only thing I've decided for sure is that I wish it was already the weekend. TGIF.

stinky secrets

There's something that we all do, but nobody wants to admit it.

Have you ever been at work and needed to take a trip to the restroom? I know some people who refuse to go to the restroom at work... but I'm not one of those. If Mother Nature is calling, I'm not going to let the machine pick it up.

Actually, during a trip to Roatan, Honduras, I was with a bunch of people who refused to have a #2 because they didn't want to use the outhouse. I, not being afraid of the outhouse but being up to a challenge, was right up there with the best of them holding their movements... until Montazuma's Revenge caught up with me, at which point I supremely lost the simi-hold-it-marathon. But that's another story for another day.

In my line of work I have to be cognizant of making trips to the restroom, because nurses have the number one profession for the top number of bladder and urinary tract infections. So when you're working a ten hour day and you get to pee twice, it's a good day...

And lately when I've had to go take care of my personal needs... I've enjoied spending time trying to figure out exactly how much I'm getting paid to pee out of my hourly rate. And if it's a longer bathroom trip? It gives me more time to figure out how much I'm getting paid to wipe and wash my hands.

It's the little things that amuse me.

cupid sucks

I have some dear friends who hate Valentine's Day, and I can't say that I blame them. I think the societial pressures to be in a relationship, especially this time of year, are wrong... You don't have to be in a relationship to be a good person. It doesn't take two people to impact the world.

Somewhere in this world there is a person who is perfect for you. They are everything you never knew that you needed somebody to be. They're smart and laugh at all of your jokes. They are kind - and wonderful - and the nape of their neck will smell like buttercream. Their idiosynchricies will both baffle and amuse you. They'll hardly be perfect, but you won't really mind. They'll get on your nerves like everybody else... And someday you'll find them.

Or they'll find you -- and it will happen when you least expect it. You looking for it may not make it happen any quicker. It may happen in a totally unromantic place or a misrouted email or a smoky bar or the grocery store... but it will happen.

The universe does not harbor angst against you. Your karma is not caddy-wompus in the world. God does not hate you. You do not have an internal magnet that's stuck on the south pole...

Greeting card companies probably hate you. They want you to feel like you're missing out on something grand, something to probe you to buy their product to shower that someone with things they sell. This is the reason that cupid sucks -- because commercialism has turned a sweet story into something to sell.

It won't be this way forever.

If you've not read the real story behind Valentine's Day since you were in the third grade, or if you secretly harbor hatred for Emperor Claudius II, or if you want to see how the church wanted to turn people from celebrating a pagan holiday you can go to this link for the backstory.

karma, pick me!

Dear Karma,

We need to win the lottery. I'm not talking about last week when we won $20, although that was nice... We need to win the multi-million-mamma-jamma powerball lottery.

Don't worry, I'm not going to tell you that we're broke and eat only ramen noodles three meals a day. I'm not even going to put a PayPal link on this page and beg for donations to the genderist fund. I'm not going to ask you to play a dollar on even numbers for me at Vegas and let it ride until it gets so large that you need a grocery buggy to cash in the chips...

We'd prefer to take home at least $1Million (after taxes), but The Hater says if we're wishing, we might as well wish for the $300Million that's not been claimed yet. I'm not sure what we'd do with that much money, but I'm sure we could come up with something.

Here are some ideas:

1. Pay off all debt.
2. Invest money wisely so that we can live off of the interest.
3. I'm going to get a new vehicle to drive - preferably one with a radio and AC. We'll keep Harrison for dirt-hauling and trips to town.
4. We're moving Eastward, back to TN, probably somewhere around Nashville.
5. Build house, but not a crazy HGTV-type mansion. Something both affordable and liveable. This will include some new furniture -- the blue couch can live in the bonus room.
6. Become a baby-making machine. Put back for their college fund.
7. The Hater says he might start "some business", but he doesn't know which one yet.
8. Tithing, Charity, Family, etc.

Those are our starter ideas on how to spend the money that we don't have yet...

We figure that we've been okay people, okay enough to hit the karma jackpot. We'll even pay it forward...

So if you don't see a post from me on Thursday, we might be looking for lots or looking at house plans. I'll keep you updated as the future progresses.

D for duh

First of all, work was a booger today. I had a student and we didn't get to sit down until almost 5pm. It was nothing short of a zoo. The rest of the week I'm to be trained to be a clinic nurse (as opposed to the treatment room), so it should be only slightly zoo-like. We'll see how that turns out.

After the zoo I had a dinner meeting about Medicare part D. There was a big presentation about how the new Medicare stuff effected physicians' offices and such. The presenter made this joke about part D for Medicare, which is the prescription drug coverage section that is part of the new plan:

Do you remember when George Bush made those campaign promises to help the seniors? Medicare Part D was his answer for that, to help seniors get prescription coverage. As you know, it's not a great plan, but that didn't matter. He never promised to make a great plan...

I laughed very hard. The presenter said it like she was trying to be funny, and some people made little smirks and giggles, but remember that this is Oklahoma - a red state through and through... and I laughed first because I thought it was funny, I kept laughing because nobody else was brave enough to laugh out loud, and continued still laughing because then the presenter realized that she probably should't've made such a political joke. It was a tearful hoot.

Nobody thought it was quite as funny as I did, but the whole idea wrapped up his entire Presidency, fair idea with bad execution. It's only funny because it's true, if you can appreciate dark humor.

... and that was the funny ha-ha for the night...

If you're confused about which Medicare plan for which to sign up, you can go to this link for more information about which drugs are covered on each part D plan. For more information, ask your pharmacist how to make part D work for you.

bleh

The last hour and a half I've been working on organizing my nursing CEUs into an excel document. It seemed like a good idea at the time. It was going to be so neat and organized!

About halfway through my stack I realized that they were not in chronological order, so my plans were to just cut and paste rows after I had enterd them... which seemed like another good idea at the time.

Long story short, no dice. So I thought I'd start a table on a word document, which of course did not like to paste over from Excel, either... which means my last two hours of work has not gotten me any futher past square one.

So what seemed like good ideas at the time? Bleh.

I quit my attempts at data entry for today.

78th Oscar picks

I'd like to thank the Academy...

The Hater and I are self-proclaimed movie buffs. We feel like we've seen enough good movies to make our opinionated picks for the Academy Awards this year. Unfortunately, we are not yet members of the Academy, therefore unable to cast an official vote. Below you will find our unofficial predictions and biases.

Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role:
Who will win: Philip Seymour Hoffman in “Capote”
Who should win: Philip Seymour Hoffman in “Capote”

Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role:
Who will win: Paul Giamatti in “Cinderella Man”
Who should win: George Clooney in “Syriana”

Performance by an Actress in a Leading Role:
Who will win: Felicity Huffman in “Transamerica”
Who should win: Reese Witherspoon in “Walk the Line”

Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Role:
Who will win: Rachel Weisz in “The Constant Gardener”
Who should win: Michelle Williams in “Brokeback Mountain”

Best Animated Feature Film of the Year:
Who will win: No Clue
Who should win: “Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride”, (the only one we saw from the list)

Achievement in Art Direction:
Who will win: “Memoirs of a Geisha”
Who should win: “Good Night, and Good Luck.”

Achievement in Cinematography:
Who will win: “Memoirs of a Geisha”
Who should win: “Memoirs of a Geisha” or “Brokeback Mountain”

Achievement in Costume Design:
Who will win: “Memoirs of a Geisha”
Who should win: “Memoirs of a Geisha” , with props to “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”

Achievement in Direting:
Who will win: “Brokeback Mountain” (Focus Features) Ang Lee
Who should win:“Brokeback Mountain” (Focus Features) Ang Lee, with props to “Good Night, and Good Luck.” (Warner Independent Pictures) George Clooney

Best Documentary Feature:
Who will win: “Murderball”
Who should win: No clue; we've not seen any of them yet.

Best Documentary Short Subject:
Who will win: No clue; we haven't seen any of them yet.
Who should win: “God Sleeps in Rwanda” (It deserves to win because Rwanda was ignored when it mattered.)

Achievement in Film Editing:
Who will win: “Walk the Line”
Who should win: “Walk the Line”

Best Foreign Language Film of the Year:
Who will win: “Paradise Now”
Who should win: “Paradise Now”

Achievement in Makeup:
Who will win: “The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”
Who should win: “Star Wars: Episode III Revenge of the Sith” or “The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe”

Achievement in music written for motion pictures (Original score):
Who will win: “Brokeback Mountain”
Who should win: “Brokeback Mountain”

Achievement in music written for motion pictures (Original song):
Who will win: No clue.
Who should win: “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp”

Best Motion Picture of the Year:
Who will win: “Brokeback Mountain”
Who should win: “Brokeback Mountain”

Best Animated Short Film:
Who will win: No clue... yet again...
Who should win: “9” (It's a great title.)

Best Live Action Short Film:
Who will win: (Where do you even go to see a short film?)
Who should win: (whoever took the least amount of time?)

Achievement in Sound Editing:
Who will win: “Memoirs of a Geisha”
Who should win: “War of the Worlds”

Achievement in Sound Mixing:
Who will win: “Memoirs of a Geisha”
Who should win: “Walk the Line”

Achievement in Visual Effects:
Who will win: “King Kong”
Who should win: “War of the Worlds”

Adapted Screenplay:
Who will win: “Brokeback Mountain”
Who should win: (We've not read them, so we can't really guess...)

Original Screenplay:
Who will win: (it's too close to call, so sayeth The Hater)
Who should win: “Good Night, and Good Luck.” or “Syriana”

COMING SOON: The Hater and I make different and more exciting predictions for the Oscars...

black swan shiraz

My new favorite wine... that can only be descirbed through some Dave Matthews Band lyrics:

Sweet like candy to my soul,
Sweet you rock and sweet you roll...

You only thought Dave was talking about a girl. Meanwhile, those were the first lyrics that The Hater wrote to me in one of his first love letters. He's such a clever romantic. The second song we claimed was this one. We used one of those in the music that was played before our wedding. (I called it the pre-game show.) All the other between them and now have conglomerated, but I think I'll always remember those first two songs.

I'd do it all over again.

give me chocolate

I was a late bloomer for my journey into womanhood. I was in college before I started craving foods approximately every 28 days. This crave has only grown in intensity...

Perhaps *crave* isn't the appropriate verb. The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of someone *craving* a certain kind of food I think of the holidays and really really wanting to eat some Nana bread and her pumpkin chiffon pie... where you think it would be nice to eat some again. I hear tell that pregnancy can make you crave food to the next level, where you send your significant other out in the middle of the night to get pickles and Moosetracks ice cream.

But my *crave*? My crave is more like the need of a werewolf on their first full moon. It's all that I can think about. This crave has made veins stick up on the side of my neck and my hair stand on end. And, with all apologies, if you are standing between me and my chocolate, I will knock your block off to obtain that confectionate perfection.

Now imagine this crave in an apartment without any chocolate. It's not a pretty picture. Because of the timed dire necessities for such indulgences, I have a hidden emergency supply. Mostly I'm willing to share, unless it's the last two pieces. For your safety please stay away from my last two pieces of mouth-watering divinity.

Don't think I'm being selfish and mean. The Hater asked me to hide it so that he would not be tempted. Unfortunately, the out-of-sight-out-of-mind philosophy does not curb my jonesing for chocolate. The howling begins when the full moon comes out from behind the clouds and my inner influx of hormones turns me into a ravaging and slightly tearful beast.

Today is a day that I need chocolate. Perhaps you should just keep a few hershey kisses in your pocket in case of emergency... but don't try to hide it from me... the beast is out.

free advice

My very good friend gave me one of the best pieces of advice when I was in nursing school... I had called him and was all upset about The Hater being here, him being in California, school was hard, woe is me, etc.... I cried almost every night that I was in nursing school and plan on dedicating at least the first 78 gray hairs to the MTSU School of Nursing faculty. After that I have some ideas about which gray hair have earned special distinction, but I have not assigned any blame as of yet.

And during that special phone call he said something that was so very moving to me that I wrote it on a post-it note and put it on the inside of my door, so that I would see it every time I left my dorm room - and every time I returned. Actually, I think that same post-it is in one of my picture albums now... without further aideu, this is what he said:

"You are not a rock, and that's okay."

It's okay to question what you want in life, it's okay to be frustrated with your current work milieu, it's okay to be afraid of change, it's okay to sleep on other people's couches. It's okay.

That's your free advice for today. My friend is a genius.

This was the very first quote that started my special quote board that stayed up the whole time that I was in nursing school... other special quotes included:

"Your farts sing."

and

"My Sister is skinny, smart and beautiful."

and now for something totally different

I would like to announce that one of my best friends in the world and I are about to undertake a writing project like none ever seen -- Yes, the book you have been waiting to add to your coffee table or proudly display on your mantle will soon enter its rough draft phase. We don't have a title for it yet, but it will be a humorous anthology of the best (or worst) bathroom experiences. This will include, but not be limited to personal narratives, limericks, best bathroom graffiti, and references to none other than Ronco, himself. Friends, while reading this book you'll laugh, you'll cry, and your eyes might even water with the scratch-and-sniff featurette... it truly will be the literary adventure you wish would have been required to read in high school.

Perhaps you've seen the 'bathroom edition' of many kinds of books... I've noticed editions for sports fans, holy rollers, crossword puzzles, useless trivia, cookbooks (which I do find somewhat frightening), classics... but I have yet to see a book that travels past the attempts to ignore the purpose of the throne. Friends, it's time we embrace those stories that have haunted us... it's time to fess up for being the person who farted and didn't claim it. It's time to support the cause of the unheard story that was not appropriate to be told.

Ladies and Gentlemen, it is time. Will you heed Mother Nature's call?

revived rivalry

It's the first quarter of the Tennessee - Kentucky game on ESPN and The Hater and I are pumped. We can't decide if we're more excited to see them play on television, or if we're excited for the RANKED 14 next to their name. They're ranked first in the SEC for now -- which we would like to give credit to coach Bruce Pearl. He has manipulated a team of over-achievers, and they are on fire.

Someone made a really wise hiring decision in the athletic department when they hired him... if we knew who that was, we would probably send them a nice little card. The Hater says we really wouldn't send a card, but it's a nice sentiment.

We know it's going to be hard for our Vols to play away against the Wildcats, but we're sending all of our orange vibes across the prarie and across The River to add to their mojo. Go Team!

PS: I hope that Phil Fulmer is taking some general coaching pointers. Maybe Bruce's sub-contract included some private lessons for Phil...

suppppper

Last night The Hater and I were invited to Unequovical Prowess' house for supper and the Super Bowl. She made some fabulous taco soup with turkey meat. She made some chili, too, but it was too hot for me; The Hater said it was great. She had chips and salsa and guac- and a fridge of beer -- it was good times! Oh, and she made a homemade cheesecake, too, which was also yummy. She's such a little Martha Stewart.

We ate and watched the game -- but I had taken a benadryl before I left home -- and promptly fell asleep before half-time. She said it was okay because I had warned her earlier... but you know how great it is to get a tasty full tummy and want to sleep? I zonked. During the fourth quarter I ended up just going to the back room and sleeping there.

After the game The Hater brought me home. I fell asleep in the car during the ten minute drive back to our apartment. Then I came home and fell asleep in the bed.... and slept all night long. This morning The Hater reminded me that Peyton's team didn't play - and that the Seahawks were only winners in their mamma's eyes.

Today I'm thankful for antihistamines that keep you from itching -- and friends who don't mind when you fall asleep at their house -- and for Peyton Manning being the greatest QB ever -- and always for my husband, who directs me to bed every night after I fall asleep on the couch.

suuuuuper

Truth be known, I'm for Peyton today. I want the Colts to win. The fact that he's not playing is only a slight complication.

Since I can't be for my team, or my other team (the Titans), I'm going to be a Seahawks fan today. Three cheers for the underdogs!

The Hater is going to be a 60% Steelers fan and 40% Seahawks fan today... He likes to complicate the complications.

epistaxis

This is a fancy medical word for a nosebleed. I learned it in nursing school and wondered if I would ever really use it. Remember this word because it will come back up later.

The truth is that I had typed out a really long post that just died. Actually, I've got a really low internet connection in the hotel room and tried to open up an Adobe file in another window -- that killed both of my windows. Such is life. This post will attempt to be the sum-up...

I've enjoied the conference. I've both gotten to see people who I've not seen in a while, and also learned a few things, which in my book count towards a productive learning experience. Our hotel room is snazzy. The Hater's been taking advantage of their poker room. You might think that we have no complaints about the weekend.

But there wouldn't be a post without any complaints...

I do understand that casinos and gambling and drinking and smoking all go hand-in-hand. I know that the world shouldn't bend over backwards for any group of people. But the smoke here has been awful. Even their "nonsmoking" rooms have reeked.

We sleep with a humidifier at home, which has probably made me more sensitive to the dryness here. My eyes are like sandpaper and my nose aches. Tonight I've had two nosebleeds from the dryness... I've tried to hover over a sink of running hot water with a towel over my head for some ease, but it's not really helping. I anticipate at least one more nosebleed before the morning.

So I'm feeling rather pitiful tonight. I'd like to be downstairs where the action is -- people watching, looking for poker tells, loitering at the piano bar -- but I'm up in my room instead, trying to will myself into a more hydrated state. So far I'm breaking even with the house...

The point of this post was to whine, but not at smokers -- just the smoke. If you're a smoker I'm not going to play like I'm your mamma or the Surgeon General. If you're not aware of the health risks of smoking, you can look here for more information. If you'd like to blame your mamma for smoking, you can look here at Freud's psycosexual theories about oral fixation. If you'd like more information about lung cancer you can look here, here, or here. If you'd like to hear a good story sometime, ask me about why I wear a clear ribbon pin on my nametag at work.

edumacation

Tonight after work The Hater and I will be heading here for a fantabulous weekend getaway. All day Saturday and half of the day Sunday I have an oncology conference. The Hater plans on taking other people's money in the poker room.

We're both excited about the trip. I've not really had an out-of-town adventure since we went home for Christmas. And although we had a great time, the drive-a-thon takes away some fun from the trip, not to mention always being on the go to see one more person before we leave. I'm hoping that this won't be as hectic.

The conference has two tracks -- one for nurses and another for physicians. I'm planning on going to some of both of them. Come Monday I should be way smarter.

I don't know if we'll have internet access, so be strong in my absence. I fare thee well.

Punxsutawney Promises

According to this website Phil, the groundhog with the inside knowledge about meterology, has been making weather predictions since 1887. It also says that 90% of the time he sees his shadow, predicting six more weeks of winter. They did not have any figures to prove how accurate his shadow-viewing method of determining spring actually calculated.

So I'm going to assume that the woodchuck institution has a significant margin of error, including this year's promise of more winter. Ergo, you're wrong, woodchuck!

We need spring showers. And if you think I'm whining now, give me a few months until when the Bradford Pears bloom and people start to mow their lawns -- and my allergies come of age.

state of the union

Last night the news people said that George, and, yes, we're on a first name basis, spoke for about an hour. If you had seen or heard the address, you'd know that this simply can't be true. He may have spoken for twenty-five minutes in mostly sentence fragments because the assembled would not stop applauding, standing up, sitting down, shaking fingers across the aisle. It reminded me of singing The Noble Duke of York in VBS (pun intended) -- or being confused in a foreign church service as to when you're supposed to stand or kneel or stand and speak. In general it seemed awkward and forced.

Meanwhile, The Hater would talk back to George. He'd argue with him. He'd shake his finger at the screen. He'd gasp and poke me, saying, Did you hear that? Did he really just say that? This brought back memories of being very young in Summertown, TN, and looking at the green shag carpet as Daddy yelled at Ronald Regan on tv. Some things never change.

The Hater's brief objection: George Bush decieves people. Example from his speech: Bush proudly claimed that we have, in the last two and a half years, created 2.5 million new jobs... which sounds good. It's actually true, but he neglected to mention that since the beginning of his Presidency (five years ago), counting the new jobs that have been created the last two years, there's still a net loss of two million jobs. This means that in the first two and a half years of the five years W Presidency, the economy lost 4.5 million jobs. If you've ever been to Vegas, that sill means you're down. He presented the info like he had done something astonishing with the economy, but that's simply not true. The Hater says there were many, many other misrepresentations, but he's not feeling like a line-by-line now.

Back to the green shag carpet... It really upset me when Daddy would yell at Ronald Regan. I was too young to understand why he was upset, but I knew that he was the President, and there's an element of magic to the Presidency. You're the boss of the whole country, you get to live in a big white house, there are people around you whose whole purpose is to take a bullet for you, and you interrupt very good television shows to give boring speeches.

There's a part of me that wants to believe in the magic. I want to believe that the President has secret information in a big manilla enevelope marked CONFIDENTIAL that he needs to know to do his job. I want to believe that the decisions that are made that I percieve as stupid are really smart decisions -- and I'd agree with him -- only if I knew what was in that envelope. I sincerely want to believe in the magic.... that there's secrets behind the idiot smirks and dumbass decisions. I want to think that you should sit on the green shag carpet and not yell at the President on tv because he's THE PRESIDENT, and therefore part of the magic.

But this Presidency, George, this Presidency is really making it hard for me to believe in the magic. I need to see the flash of a manilla envelope marked CONFIDENTIAL or TOP SECRET or THE GREATER MEANING TO LIFE or THE ANSWERS... I need a sign that you know what you are doing.

Call me Mulder; I want to believe. Unfortunately, my inner Scully wants the facts... and the facts I've seen lead me to believe your Presidency has been disappointing. And this time? This time, George, my inner child sitting on the green shag carpet isn't crying because someone's yelling at you on tv.

She's crying because you deserve it.