Incoming from Sozialarbeiter Von Oaklund ..............."Pres Obama!"

"Holy fuck"
yep. 24 hours later and am still in a state of shock.

An Alternate Version of Locks of Love

Family history notwithstanding, I only recently discovered that Saint Anthony's who you try to bargain with when you've lost something of value. In yesterday's case, my wallet. After hastily "securing" my checking account--explaining to the bank rep that I couldn't recite my license number for verification since I was now missing various forms of ID including my bank card--how 'bout my providing other crucial info such as the name of my first blue-eyed crush (Casey Morris)?--of course it turned up.

Since we were spared a last-minute trip to the Department of Public Safety, I was okay with receiving a few "I told you so's" from the girlfriend. And while the jury-has-pretty-much-fled-the County-without-so-much-as-a-forwarding-address when it comes to my harboring any leftover desire to rejoin the ranks of organized religion, I'm unabashadly *for* acknowledging the existence of everyday miracle workers. Which is why, in all seriousness, I'd like to give a shout-out to folks whose efforts bring relief to battered and endangered lives. From one of many cool sites googled tonight, a chron.com interview with

Luke McKibben, manager of training and volunteer services at the women’s center, [who agrees] outreach to salons is a great idea because women feel safe there.

“Abusers are very controlling people,” McKibben said. “They will go to a doctor’s appointment with their victim so they know what is being said. For some reason with beauty appointments, it’s not as common.”

And there are certain things stylists can watch for.

“We know abusers don’t want to get caught,” McKibben said. “So often, they will physically abuse the victim in a place (on their body) they know the average person won’t be able to see. Blows to the body, and blows to the head, where hair will cover up the injuries. Stylists might notice bruises on somebody’s scalp...

All Beauty Brand stylists are familiar with the women’s center crisis hotline phone numbers, and there will be pamphlets available at the checkout counter.

“Our focus is to bring as much possible awareness to our customers that we can,” said Jenni Cutbirth, district manager of Beauty Brands, 4606 FM 1960.

“Women often establish a trusting relationship with their stylist,” she said. “They spend a lot of time one-on-one talking, and sometimes confiding extremely personal things. Sometimes abuse. So we want to make sure we’re prepared.”

WANT TO HELP?
• What: It takes Guts to Reduce Abuse campaign
• Where: Beauty Brands Salon
• Where: 19661 Highway 59 in Humble
• When: October, which is Domestic Violence Awareness Month
• For more information: www.beautybrands.com or http://www.hawc.org/

Crisis hotlines to Houston Area Women’s Center
• Domestic Violence: Call 713.528.7273
• Sexual Abuse: Call 713.528.2121

Where 48-hr bug blows its top and wins

You know you're in a bad way when you a bring a sleeping bag, wool hat, and sick bucket to bed.

awww good am to you too

Text: Thank you 4 a really nice relaxing night off with you...love you!

Reply: Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May and summer's lease hath all too short a date... But thy eternal summer shall not fade ~ T and Shakespeare

Text: What R U wearing?

Reply: LOL

a thousand words blah blah blah

Geez, I hope I don't come off as preachy and/or windbag breathy in person. Or nursery rhymey. I meant to post a 3-yr-anniversary entry, but I'm giving in to personal embarrassment over Blog One.

September 17, 2007's posting isn't too bad although there's remnants (circa 2005 blogging) of my ruminating, writing, and revising in Lunatic-Trapped-in-the-Attic fashion. A picture is going to have to do given my current mood--which is still a frank improvement over being cataclysmically depressed and angry at the world. Thank you, Cosmos.

"Verdant"

I'm a Health Care Voter! Are YOU?

Our trainers reminded us to stay off the grass, and my walking partner adds that we shouldn't pick fruit from impressionable voters' gardens. (A fat red apple inexplicably dropped and discovered on the sidewalk, however, is a different story.)

One of the few residents who was home on a Sunday, and came to the door, and accepted our literature... claims Mama don't like Obama. Boss Lady puffed out her chest, declares "I'm a grandma, and I support Obama." Turns out that (number 1 - undecided) Just Your Average Joe has a dinner party to get ready for, but he'll think about it.

Boss Lady Recruiter wondered aloud about his Americorps paraphernalia: Average Joe is a fan of Mr. Bill Clinton's legacy of public works? Then again, there was also evidence of Joe's NRA membership, a Thirteen Colonies flag displayed on his front porch. As the day wore on, we got better at starting out talking fashion (versus trying to quietly interpret mixed signals and alliances). To the (number 2-leans Democrat) daily commuter with the Group Health *race 2008* shirt: "Have you heard that Local Medical Center is donating 600 bicycles to its employees to encourage would-be cyclists?". As for the guy who opened the door in his underpants (number 3-erm, not home) , we're told he'll show the pamphlet to the Missus as soon as she returns from Dreamland.

At the end of our rounds, Boss Lady asks if I'm interested in joining the vanpool another time, for additional meetups with the suburban masses. Not sure if I'd rather volunteer for over-the-phone canvassing instead, it'll depend on a combination of work/school commitments and Metro bus schedules. Anyways, before she dropped me back home, I let her know that I enjoyed the fact that she was wearing "A Woman's Place is in Her Union" T-shirt that day.

Because today's Monday...

and I have less than a week to make a birthday wish.

pause
pause
pause

Why not head over to head-nurse's blog for a helping of brain-slash-will-power? 

Friday, August 08, 2008 "Panic: Ur doin' it wrong."

I know this sounds impossible, but our hospital has been on Disaster OMGWTF Footing for the last month.

Yes, fiends and neighbors, the last month.

Disaster is usually reserved for, you know, actual disasters. Like plane crashes. And hurricanes. And, I dunno, maybe huge leaks of refrigerant, or bioactive compounds from some horrible lab somewhere that're turning everybody into bunny-hopping happy zombies with bad 80's hair.


Or the air conditioning going out. That's also a disaster. But anyway. We've been on Disaster Footing, with Code Whatevers that Signify An Internal Disaster, daily except for weekends.


Why, you ask? Because of a computer glitch.


Scheduling is all fucked up, is the short answer. Somebody somewhere has been transitioning to some wonderful computer system that's going to be all ice-cream bars and puppies in the long run, but in the short run...eesh. All the operating rooms are triple-booked, which must be fun. Can you imagine? Close your eyes....


THE SCENE: SUNNYDALE HOSPITAL
THE CHARACTERS: VARIOUS NURSES AND O.R. TECHS


Opening: MORNING in the OPERATING ROOM, wide-angle


TECH #1: What are you doing here? I'm supposed to be setting this room up for a left pharyngeal troponetic farumulunectomy!


TECH #2: Huh? I'm here to set it up for a transverse myelopical zummulation ablation!


TECH #3: Both you guys are high. I've got a complete radical sympathomimetic wangulation scheduled here for 0800.


NURSES: We don't CARE what you're here for! Just set up for SOMETHING!!


Meanwhile, in recovery, things are going badly as well. And on the acute care floors, we're having conversations with Manglement that defy belief:


MANGLER: You need to get six patients out, double up four, and send three to rehab. Who've you got that can move?


NURSE IN NOMINAL CHARGE: Uh...well, these two spines could go to rehab, and we could double up the cranis, but we have eight patients in isolation and another five that are total-care. Six is the most I can give you right now.


MANGLER: What about that one? (Stabs finger at bed-board) That one looks pretty good. Why can't you send *him* home?


NINC: Uh...'cause he had a kidney removed about two hours ago?


MANGLER: Tell him to MAN UP!!


So. It's been a fun month.

stop

Further incidents, happy accidents, and etc to be had via head-nurse.blogspot.com

famous last words

Come on, Tikki. You'll probably never see these people again.

One of Dee's Pies in the Skies

Spotted on google images, turns out this artist is also on etsy.com under "pencilshavings." Thought her work (i.e. woodpeckers) looked familiar.

Wasn't Half Bad (If I Do Say So Myself)

Me and the gf have a running joke about who's tanner/darker (whiter) since I can always count on her dreaming up another backyard project during her days off. Sadly, Yours Truly's Monday thru Friday routine consists of strolling a few blocks to the office and back. Any day now, we'll take that backpacking trip across...the Americas? Let's presume we have a few kinks to work out before hatching Ultimate Breakaway. In the meantime, I've offered to assist "with navigation and lifting of heavy camera equipment as long as we can bypass any packs of hungry coyotes.'

I finally conceded that 'I could be a wee bit lighter' while the two of us stood in the shower line at Kitsap park. What can I say, I'd just been promised Sunday brunch at the lunch counter. They forgot both eggs in Dee's breakfast burrito but I got a whole breakfast sweet to myself when the diner owner realized that we were out-of-towners. (GF said she was "fine" after I waved a half a scone at her on the ride home.)

strange, unexpected delights

www.leelanaunews.com

posted on October 14, 2007 at 1:06 am,

S-B icon heading to Columbus Zoo

Anna, the maternal primate who has "watched over" pedestrians in Suttons Bay for the past eight years, is moving south...Now, she’ll have a new home at the Columbus Zoo.



I've had quite the eventful month, due to a much needed and appreciated transfer at work, an upteenth change of living situation (affecting both roommate and neighborhood association), and; I've met someone.

Dee and I went to flamingo gaze at the local fair and it slipped my mind to ask her whether she liked the poison dart frogs, or otters, or chatty monkeys best. (Prime example: "Mama--possibly another office worker deciding to take a breather, and realizing the joys of bringing an easily amused date--look at the gorilla. He's dead.""No, honey, he's sleeping. Watch his belly [move up and down]. See, he's resting.")

Positively nauseating, eh?

Love me some straight dope

Dear Cecil:

I've always wondered where the wonderful American expression "Indian giver" originated.  Is an Indian giver one who: (1) as an Indian, gives you something and then takes it back, (2) gives things to Indians, or (3) gives away Indians?  Your insight is greatly appreciated.

--Michael W., Jacksonville, Florida

(September 16, 1988)

Dear Michael:
This whole thing is so ironic it's an instant cure for pernicious anemia.  "Indian" was once used by the white man as an all-purpose adjective signifying "bogus" or "false", owing to the supposedly low morals of the red man.  Thus you had "Indian summer," false summer late in the year; "Indian corn" and "Indian tea," cheap substitutes for products the original colonists had known back in England; and "Indian giver," someone who gives you something and then takes it back.

But of course Europeans were the real Indian givers, repeatedly promising the Indian reservations by treaty and then stealing them back once valuable farmland or minerals were found.  The term has thus inadvertently become an acid commentary on the character of its inventors.  I think it's poetic.


Dear Cecil:
You appear to be under the impression that Indian reservations were provided by the United States to Indians in treaties, and that the whites later "took back" the reservations. In fact, in the majority of cases, reservations are areas of the tribes' own homelands, usually very small by comparison to their original territory, which the Indians kept to themselves, while giving up the balance in the treaties. In legalese, the Indians "reserved to themselves" a portion of their lands, while granting the rest to the government.

While this distinction may seem like nitpicking, it is important, because most non-Indians perceive the special status of Indians tribes and their lands as gifts from the benevolent white father in Washington (at the resentful taxpayer's expense). In fact, neither their special status, which is sovereignty retained by the tribes, nor their reserved lands are gifts in any sense of the word.
--Anthony C., Mill Valley, California


Dear Anthony:
Point well taken. Thanks.



Dear Cecil:
I'm afraid you've goofed again. In a recent column you wrote, "The whole thing is so ironic it's an instant cure for pernicious anemia." I'm surprised you didn't know that pernicious anemia is caused by a deficiency in a protein called intrinsic factor which carries Vitamin B12 to the ileum, the last segment of the small intestine, where the complex binds to a receptor and is absorbed into the blood. No amount of iron would cure it but a good shot in the arm of B12 would do a lot of good. Would you please set the record straight?
--Larry G., junior, Northwestern University Medical School, Evanston, Illinois


Cecil replies:
Go away, kid, you bother me.

122
Emily Dickinson

A something in a summer’s Day
As slow her flambeaux burn away
Which solemnizes me.

A something in a summer’s noon —
A depth — an Azure — a perfume —
Transcending ecstasy.

And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright
I clap my hands to see —

Then veil my too inspecting face
Lets such a subtle — shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me —

The wizard fingers never rest —
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes it narrow bed —

Still rears the East her amber Flag —
Guides still the sun along the Crag
His Caravan of Red —

So looking on — the night — the morn
Conclude the wonder gay —
And I meet, coming thro’ the dews
Another summer’s Day!

FYI

Zanne plans to spend the summer months haunting my on-campus retreat as she hunts down public radio gigs in the city. Hence, my latest technicolour obsession features Worldly Redheads.

APRIL F%#@

1. What is your relationship status?
Am referencing "sexual orientation" here.

photobucket label "after going back and forth a few times"

2. What is your current mood?

3. Who is your Favorite Band/Artist?

Had a hard time coming up with an answer. Will a Rilo Kiley song from a mix that Zanne burned for me after I relocated to _____X_____ for grad school suffice? (The much cherished CD was later misplaced on an Alaskan Airlines cruiser. (Sh)it happens.

4. What is your [parents' plus sibling's] favorite movie?
October Sky

sigh, Jake Gyllenhaal






















Jake Gyllenhaal again ;)






















Jake and his late, great Brokeback Mountain co-star












5. What kind of pet do you have?
The low maintenance kind.
"th_Rock" kind.











6. Where do you live?
Apparently, "PacificBlue"























7. Where do you work?

8. What do you look like?
Only taller, still sporting a bowl haircut.












9. What do you drive?
an invisible dragon

10. What did you do last night?
Aaagh, are we there yet? This is why I don't represent the target populace for eHarmony matchmakers. What with my queerness and sunny disposition and all.

12. Describe yourself:
Done.

To mark progress at the grindstone

Six word MeMe instructions knabbed from Professional Mirror (aka Dr. Medusa)

1. Write your own six word memoir
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere {Tag}
4. Tag five more blogs with links {I'll pass}
5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play! {ibid}

She appreciated the birds and bees

Cafe Study Date

Gabrielle has disappeared on me to lounge singley on the black pleather loveseat in the back, while I decide to stay put at the table that we've crammed wtih laptops, smuggled ziploc bags of veggie chips, and a pricely bought plate of Today's Coffee House Special: housemade raspberry chiffon cake.

By August's close, she'll be heading for an East Coast post and Hello, if you keep comparing me to Kermit the Ribbit, who do you suppose is going to respond to long distance calls about that the peeps around you being all partnered to Professor Prince Charming (each harem consort sporting 100 precious tadpoles) and H-to-the-N-O you don't feel like lighting incense at your neighborhood temple. Come to think of it, it was only yesterday that you revealed a longterm Catholic affiliation, and didn't yer mom just ship you a basket of Easter treats over school break. I happen to prefer dark chocolate nibs over milk kisses myself. Mmm...

Ahem. For the record, soon after Phoney Girlfriend blotted her Research-1 contract we decided to eat out at an Asian fusion restaurant where I drank excess sake and inaugurated my first epic hangover in, like, decades. Sure I'll check out your guestroom asap, Angel Face, despite the fact that your pet name for me sucks ass royally.

"Custom Designed Hawaiin Hibiscus" available for import from oceanfrontchocolates.com

and baby shower makes three

and baby shower makes three

enjoying a midwinter spell

take 1














take 2

Lounge Lizard Dayz

A holiday bonus brought home from the hospital 'cuz filched, outdated New Yorkers are often Irritable Bowel's vogue companion.

Summer Fiction Issue
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
June 11 & 18, 2007

D.T MAX 54 LETTER FROM AUSTIN
Final Destination, The A-list archive: Why do the archives of so many great writers end up in Texas?
The subtitle's rhetorical drivel, r$ight?

JUNOT DIAZ 74 FICTION
"Wildwood"
An examination of the ageless, priceless (yes, no?) MOTHER-DAUGHTER SUBJECT from none other than the mastermind behind The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. My personal favorite in the bunch.

EDWIDGE DANTICAT 96 PERSONAL HISTORY
Marie Micheline, a family in Haiti
Danticat provides a nostalgic (using the adjective with regard to dangerous Noble Savage fantasies) tribute to her transatlantic origins.

[F]or the first time I hadn't finished my homework. I gave Marie Micheline the note, thinking that she'd go easier on me than Oncle Joseph or Tante Denise. The next morning, when she got to the school, Marie Micheline took my very slim and prim teacher, Ms. Sanon, aside, and under an almond tree in a c orner of the bustling recess yard, whispered in her ear for five minutes.

"What did you tell her?" I asked Marie Micheline as she walked me back to class with a broad smile on her face...

ELIZABETH KOLBERT 130 BOOKS
Two biographies of Hillary Clinton

Carl Bernstein's bio, Woman in Charge, challenges the early foundations of HC's reformist agenda. Kolbert herself states that over the years, the senator's "unromantic [How about "glamazon, micromanaged"?]..hair styles alone have probably generated more headlines than most congressmen". Double rats, after reading Bernstein's article I now wish I caught the climate journalist's impassioned (or 'convincingly peeved', as reported by a classmate) Town Hall speech on global warming.

Oscar Buzz

"How not to pose with your newly won peoples' choice award...

Hold that crystal tear drop of dubious honor right under your eye, symbolically reminding America of heartbreak you have suffered and sobbed over in the past year.


Wrap yourself in a dominatrix's shower curtain and cradle it like the baby you'll never have with Justin Timberlake.

courtesy of January 2007 employeecomedy.typepad.com/news/celebrity_crap/index.html"

What's the likelihood of my housemates using the washer and dryer at the same time as the Oscars circus? I haven't actually gotten around to watching the nominees on the big screen, hence my review of Juno has to wait until I have both the time and desire to glimpse Maiden, Midwife, and Crone parables.

I'm vaguely optimistic about completing Sunday chores here at Reality Bites Co-op. Ideally, the rest of  shared company will remain sufficiently engrossed within their--dare to dream--thinly padded/carpeted rooms to allow me un-interrupted excursions between bedroom and basement.

variations on a snorfily theme

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Subject: Liebe Therese

Sun, 3 Feb 2008 14:25:25 -0800 (PST)
Ich wünsche Dir und Deiner Familie alles Gute zur Geburt. Könntest Du mir bitte Deine Adresse in Deutschland emailen, damit ich Dir ein Geschenk für Phelps schicken kann? Vielen Dank und viele Grüsse von Deiner Cousine,Tnk
Wed, 13 Feb 2008 16:12:26 -0800 (PST)
to all of my friends and cousins,
sorry im not whriting u an email anymore,coz im sooo busy.Hope you guys doin ok,just like us.Here is some new pic of san philippe.Take care always....miss yah all,muah!
love,
therese
Wed, 13 Feb 2008 16:12:26 -0800 (PST)
hey,how are you?long time no hear from you.I hope your doin ok.Come and visit us here in germany again.Next week sat(feb23)is christening from sp or on may24 im turning 30,maybe you can come.Anyway,im happy to hear from you. Here is our add: Metropolos. Kaiserslautern. Well then,take care of yourself....miss yah,muah! love,therese

An imaginary yet semi-factual event featuring a future bridesmaid

If I were the marrying sort.

MIAMI: I have my 20TH high school reunion coming up. I RSVPed no. Scheduling conflicts...The invitation italicizes saddest moment of the year.

ME: Rude and intrusive line of questioning.

MIAMI: Right, I scribbled "being denied visitation privileges, by J, while he was in the AIDS ward last Christmas." Your pick?

ME: Learning of Parent Figure's partial amputation over voicemail.

MIAMI: Ladies and gents, we have a tie.

February 7, 2008 [spacebar] 13:45

In a few hours, I find out whether the foot or leg can indeed be salvaged. I've been informed the toe is a gonner.

Eyewitness: Major surgery without an anaesthetic, 1811

(www.mytimemachine.co.uk/operation.htm)

The invention of modern anaesthesia has taken so much of the terror out of surgery that an account such as that left by Fanny Burney (also known by her married name of Madame d'Arblay) is difficult to take in. Burney was diagnosed with breast cancer in August 1810, and operated on in France by Baron Larrey, Napoleon's surgeon. To spare her the suspense, she was given very little notice of the operation. “M. d'A.” in this account is her husband, Alexandre, and Alexander is her son.

...It was transparent, however, & I saw, through it, that the Bedstead was instantly surrounded by the 7 men & my nurse. I refused to be held; but when, Bright through the cambric, I saw the glitter of polished Steel - I closed my Eyes. I would not trust to convulsive fear the sight of the terrible incision. A silence the most profound ensued, which lasted for some minutes, during which, I imagine, they took their orders by signs, & made their examination - Oh what a horrible suspension! - I did not breathe - & M. Dubois tried vainly to find any pulse. This pause, at length, was broken by Dr Larry, who, in a voice of solemn melancholy, said 'Qui me tiendra ce sein? (“Who will hold the centre?”) - ' No one answered; at least not verbally; but this aroused me from my passively submissive state, for I feared they imagined the whole breast infected - feared it too justly, - for, again through the Cambric, I saw the hand of M. Dubois held up, while his forefinger first described a straight line from top to bottom of the breast, secondly a Cross, & thirdly a Circle; intimating that the WHOLE was to be taken off.

Excited by this idea, I started up, threw off my veil, &, in answer to the demand 'Qui me tiendra ce sein? ' cried 'C'est moi, Monsieur! ' & I held my hand under it, & explained the nature of my sufferings, which all sprang from one point, though they darted into every part. I was heard attentively, but in utter silence, & M. Dubois then replaced me as before, &, as before, spread my veil over my face. How vain, alas, my representation! immediately again I saw the fatal finger describe the Cross - & the circle - Hopeless, then, desperate, & self-given up, I closed once more my Eyes, relinquishing all watching, all resistance, all interference, & sadly resolute to be wholly resigned.

My dearest Esther, -

See below

Hmm. My intro paragraph might be a subconscious head nod to Borderlands La Frontera The New Mestiza's How to Tame a Wild Tongue.

Greetings Greyhound riders, circus troupe followers, countrymen

I don't have much of an excuse for not hastening to a dentist for a checkup; my unknown partner-in-crime (aka new co-worker), who's from "all over", is equally impressed with our benefits plan. Now friendly off-duty waittress passes by my seat at Starbucks, inquires who(m) I'm chatting with.

Your boyfriend...
BOD says hibye. Bloody hell, she has to get back to the restaurant and simply stepped out to snag a bubble tea.

Now that we're alone. I've thought awhile about a second, pseudonymous journal. An assortment of day-to-day milestones. Today's lunch break stream-of-consciousness, for example, along with chronicles of pesky doctor's visits and so on and so forth. We'll see how it goes.