Prettyful Piggies

I admit I was warned, but I didn't believe it.

"You'll get addicted", they said.

"No, I won't. It can't be that spectacular", was my reply.

"Just wait, you'll see", was their reply.

They won. I lost. I had my first pedicure today and I loved it. After initially getting past the overwhelming fumes of nail polish and nail polish remover, I was hooked. On second thought, maybe I was hooked BECAUSE of the overwhelming fumes. Hmmmm. Anyway, I loved it fumes or not. Here are some photos to help commemorate the experience.



This is the obligatory "before" shot. Yes, my feet are bony and perhaps there is some hair visible. I don't care.



And they are rather "vein-y" too. I still don't care. This is during the relaxing experience that is a pedicure.



Naturally, the after shot. The color was not really my numero uno choice, but it matches a dress I intend on wearing to my friend's wedding. In Vegas. Which is the reason for this, my first but definitely not last, pedicure.

My only regret is that I didn't splurge on a manicure as well. It was only $10 more, but I declined. Just the other day I cut all my finger nails short. Plus I hate my hands, and having them painted all pretty just draws unwanted attention to them. So I'll settle for pretty toe toes and call it good.

Better get busy. I have a lot to get done before heading to Sin City.

Minnesota Lawn Mower Massacre

Generally I enjoy mowing the lawn. In fact, I mow my own lawn, plus I mow my parents' lawn just for the fun of it. This time of year, mowing the grass leaves me feeling very guilty.

At my parents' house in particular, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of little crickets hopping around the backyard. When I mow the lawn, they are bouncing all over the place. I hate mowing over those little critters, but it really is unavoidable. I did hesitate when I encountered a little frog and a mature grasshopper. They barely escaped with their lives and they probably would not have been so lucky if another person was behind that scary machine.

When I see those little crickets frantically hopping to save their precious lives, I try to send them telepathic messages to hop on over to the newly mowed portion. Since that part of the lawn was just cut, it's a safe bet that the lawn mower will not pass that way again. Alas, they don't seem to get it and continue jumping into the longer unmowed sections; the sections I am about to cut with the twirling blade of terror. If I happen to spot one or two hopping to the already mowed areas, I will pause and let them hop on over, but most go for the longer blades of grass.

When all is said and done, I have visions of the crickets settling down to dinner around their cricket TVs watching their cricket evening news with the devastating bulletin about the deaths of so many of their kind from this not-so-natural disaster. Forgive me crickets of the world. I really am sorry.

Butt Cracks and ECTs.

I kept a guy alive today. For real. It was a very bizarre feeling to say the least. Here is how it happened (be prepared for work lingo).

I floated to 4th floor today. On a 1:1 who goes for ECT treatments each morning. Since he was on a 1:1, I got to accompany him for his treatment. I have worked at my job for more than 12 years and have never seen an ECT treatment so I was a little nervous. They prepped him and began the treatment. The staff were amazingly nice, patient, and explained everything they were doing to me which was more than I anticipated. The RN who was handling the case explained the use of muscle relaxers which in turn paralyzes the patient for about 5 minutes. During this time, their lungs also become paralyzed so they lose the ability to breath. During the ECT process, the nurse has to breath for the patient by way of an "ambu bag". The RN summoned me to the head of this patient, and I got to breath for him. The importance of this did not register until the RN says:

"Ever kept someone alive before?"
ME: "No".
RN: "Well, you are now."

Wow! I had the power. I was God for one small moment. Well, not really, since if I did screw up in any way, there were several people around to make it right again. Sort of like Back Up Gods. Or maybe I was the Back Up God. Either way, it was awesome.....and scary. I believe I said at one point, "I don't think I should be doing this".

I was very afraid that I would pass out during the ECT procedure with visions of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" in my head, which is actually quite similar to what I witnessed. But it wasn't as horrific as my imagination. Its amazing how quickly the patient recovers and experiences only temporary confusion. The doctor in this case seemed a little too eager to press the ZAP button perhaps achieving a maniacal thrill from inflicting a seizure inducing electric shock to a trouble causing patient.

Not more than 20 minutes later, I was back in 1:1 land with this man with whom I shared an unforgettable experience. In between moments of me telling him to pull up his pants to cover his over sized hairy butt crack, I was thinking about how I had saved his life. Actually I didn't save it; I just sustained it. Just another day at work for so many people, but it was an experience I'll never forget. The ECT treatmet that is; I'm hoping to forget the hairy butt crack before too long.

Mouth Orgasm

Today I called in sick to work. Not because I'm sick; Just because I'm sick of work. Its a beautiful day outside and I thought I'd make some effort to do something productive today that I wouldn't do otherwise. So I went grocery shopping. . .(and apparentely blogging) for the essentials. You know, cereal, milk and fruit. Lots of fruit. Cereal and fruit are my two main food staples.

While walking down the cereal aisle, I noticed really good prices on my two favorite, though banned, cereals. They are banned because, if allowed in my home, their entire contents would be devoured in one very short day. Since I eat a lot of cereal, I try to make those healthier alternatives and attempt to get some nutrition out of my bowl of deliciousness. Very seldom do I get the sugary, "kid" cereals.

As I stared at the $1.99 Lucky Charms and the $2.88 Cinnamon Toast Crunch staring back at me, I crumbled. Weakness overcame my body. My hand reached for that box of Lucky Charms only to be interrupted by my brain resulting in immediate recoil. My eyes darted from Lucky Charms to Cinnamon Toast Crunch and back to Lucky Charms again. My heart was palpitating and I felt like Meryl Streep in Sophie's Choice because I refused to purchase BOTH boxes of cereal. I have never seen Sophie's Choice, but from what I have heard, that is how I felt. Only ONE box of cereal would be allowed.




















Since I can sample (uh, steal) Lucky Charms at work from time to time and since there was a red blinking thing-a-ma-bob in store coupon on Cinnamon Toast Crunch, my hand went for the swirly box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It helped that the provided coupon stated it was for .75 off (hey, there is no "cents" key on the keyboard! WTF!) on the purchase of Cinnamon Toast Crunch AND a Fiber One cereal. That way, buying the Fiber One Cereal totally offset the Cinnamon Toast Crunch. A healthy cereal for a sugary one. Perfect.

Now that I am home, I must set some ground rules for having a banned cereal reside in my cupboard. I cannot eat it for breakfast, but rather only for an evening snack. Same as having a cookie. I cannot eat more than one bowl at a time....or in a day. Sadly that rule is already broken and the box has not even been in my house for more than an hour. Its a sad state of affairs.

Eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch results in one serious mouth orgasm. How can a person resist that?

Hot Diggety Dog

Because I work in the field of Mental Health, I find myself assigning a diagnosis or 2 to family members, friends, and characters in books or on the screen. This practice of mine has now spread like an infection to giving a clinical diagnosis to the animals in my life.

Take Polly, for example. She does not belong to me, per se, but she joins us on many a walk. Spend just one minute with her and, you too, will soon discover that this dog is one big case of ADHD. Hop this canine up on some Mt. Dew and she would expend more energy than the Earth spinning on it axis much like Hammy, the nutty chipmunk, in Over the Hedge.

Polly has a human counterpart in Robin Williams as well.








Both have annoyingly spastic energy with a douse of comedic timing. We refer to Polly as a little comedian as she constantly makes us laugh.

One would wrongly assume a lengthy walk would tire Polly out. Instead, it revs her up. She bounds in the house ready to play some more. Like the Energizer Bunny, she keeps going and going and going and . . . .

Polly's diagnosis: ADHD (with an emphasis on the H)
Mania (or excessive happiness a la Robin Williams
in Patch Adams)
Rule out Psychosis

Then we have Tiki. Her human recipe is one gallon Marcia Brady, add one Tablespoon of Cindy Brady, plus a Splash of Gladys Kravitz from Bewitched. Blend well.
PLUS
PLUS





EQUALS


Tiki is cute, adorable and innocent. Think of Cindy Brady asking "Thanta" Clause to help her mommy get her voice back so she can "thing" at "Christhmuth". How cute was that?

Much like Gladys Kravitz, Tiki sticks her nose in business that isn't hers resulting in a histrionic drama of epic proportions. Tiki's shrill yap is quite reminiscent of Gladys' equally shrill "ABNER!"

Marcia Brady's narcissism is evident in Tiki's doggie persona (Marcia also had a hint of histrionics as well). Tiki demands attention and covertly budges her way in to get the accolades she so deserves. She is beautiful and she knows it. Tiki takes serious ownership of her belongings just like Marcia treasured her prized trophies. Marcia wouldn't share with Jan, and Tiki makes it known she will not share her trophies either. Missy is probably secretly saying "Tiki, Tiki, Tiki!" You know, like Jan says, "Marcia, Marcia, Marcia".

Tiki's diagnosis: Narcissistic Personality Disorder
Histrionic Personality Disorder
Little Dog Syndrome

Oh, poor Missy is a clinical nightmare. She has all of the initials used in diagnostic labeling. Where do I start with this poor girl.

Her humanish counterparts are Eeyore, Droopy and Corky from Life Goes On. Obla Di, Obla Da.


I have heard it said that dogs are not stubborn. The quality of being stubborn suggests there is a willful deceit which dogs are supposedly incapable of. But Missy is the epitome of stubborn, or shall we say oppositional and defiant.

If Missy does not want to go for a walk, there is no way to force her. At times, she will refuse to even begin walking when we approach the trail head. She says to me with her doggie eyes:

"No, I don't want to go and you can't make me".

The more I insist, the more she resists.

"No, really. Go ahead without me. You don't really want me to join you. I'll just sit in the car. You'll have more fun without me anyway."

She is attention seeking in such a way that is self defeating. She enjoys hearing:

"Missy, we missed you on our walk. We wish you would have joined us."Her tail wags happily upon hearing this.

A friend recently described Missy as a "Bumbling kid with Down Syndrome". Rather, I see Missy as having qualities of autism. She has poor social skills and lacks the necessary tools to make canine friends. Choosing to be off doing her own thing instead of mingling with her buddies.

She also has incredible social anxiety. New people and new situations are hard for her, but once you win her heart, you'll have it forever.

Missy's diagnosis (in no particular order):
Chronic Depression
Boderline Personality Disorder
Oppositional Defiant Disorder
Social Anxiety Disorder
Reactive Attachment Disorder
Down Syndrome
Autism Spectrum Disorder
Rule out Prader Willie Syndrome

Whew! What Disorders affect your furry friends?

Friends of all Ages

Growing up, I have always had many friends who were in a variety of age groups. When I was in Jr. high school, you could easily find me playing with kids who were still in elementary school or chilling with the high school gang. On top of the kids roughly my own age, I also had friends who were adults. It may sound weird, but true. An average day consisted of me playing dollies with the neighbor girls in the morning, having afternoon tea with the elderly lady down the street, and finishing up providing "adult" conversation for the single mother a little further down the street.

I was the neighborhood social butterfly and reaped my rewards by getting complimentary wheelbarrow rides from anybody willing to give them. When my mom's friends called to speak with her, and I happened to answer the phone, it was not uncommon for them to spend 10 minutes or so talking to me first. They weren't fake phone conversations like those moms who put their children on the phone to talk to the caller on the other end; they were true phone conversations because they were interested in hearing what I had to say.

Happily, it remains that way today. One of my dearest buddies is in her 20's and another best bud in her 40's. I have travelled to Florida with a lady old enough to be my mom, and I used to take nightly walks with one of my mom's closest friends, Sue. Just Sue and me.

Life has several different social stages. First, there is the Birthday scene when you are a child. Going to all your friends Birthday parties and having some of your own. Then come the graduation parties followed by college benders. Soon the mailbox becomes full with invitations for bridal showers and wedding announcements. (If you're lucky, you don't get asked to be a bridesmaid.) Baby showers and birth announcements make their appearance next. Celebrations continue with Anniversary parties and Retirement galas. Lastly, you enter that stage where you are sadly attending the Funerals.

With having a gamut of friends in all age groups, I belong to all of those different stages. Currently, I find myself attending fewer and fewer weddings, but more and more baby showers. And, yes, my funeral attending stage is approaching all too quickly. Just last year I lost my tea drinking partner. I still think of her each time I mow the lawn...long story.

Which brings me to the news I heard today. Sue, my aforementioned 63 year old walking buddy has suffered a stroke. This news, is of course, devastating and scary. Just a few days ago, I saw her. A seemingly healthy woman who was full of life. Smiling, happy, and vibrant. Ironically, she quit smoking 4 months ago, began to eat healthy and restarted her walking regime. Proof, my mom says, why she is never going to quit smoking herself. Whatever.

Naturally, my mind is preoccupied with healing thoughts for Sue and once again I am reminded of my own good fortune for the good health of my parents. Something I never take for granted.

I cannot wait to walk once again with Sue once she recovers. How is that for positive thinking?

Waiting for a Ring

All day long I have been ruminating about not wanting to go to work this weekend. For starters, the weather has finally decided to get nice. After a week of fog, rain, and wind complete with tornado warnings, this weekend is supposed to be fairly nice. Sunny and warm. Nice weather, particularly on the weekend, makes going in to work that much more difficult.

Secondly, work is a little dicey with more than one acting out kid, and I hear we have been working short handed quite a bit lately. So my anxiety is sky high tonight mostly because it has been a few days since I have been "on the unit". Entering into the "unknown" always causes me to bite my nails and raid the fridge a little more than normal. Like going to the dentist, the thought and anticipation of going is far worse than actually going. Once you are there, its not all bad.

Thirdly, I have been dreading working 16 hours all weekend long as I typically do doubles throughout the weekend. Then it occurs to me: I do not have to do doubles; I can go in just for my scheduled shift, and then go home. Sometimes I forget that. Truly I do. Immediately I begin to feel better about going to work tomorrow knowing it only has to be for 8 hours if I want it to be. Or I can double. The choice is mine to make which alleviates a small percentage of my anxiety.

A coworker told me the other day that I have an abusive relationship with my job. I wouldn't quite say that, but sometimes I feel like it is a marriage. I'm just waiting for my ring.