Stuck in a Furrow

Today's the day.

I only have 1/2 day of work, then a lunch and then I should be outta there. Of course, I know I probably will have to stick around to help the new girl but it won't be a full day. Yippee! I am a little sad to be done fulltime, but I know that this job move will be awesome. And, I will still be working part time to do the typing and billing and basically everything the new girl isn't competant enough to do...which is seemingly a lot.

She can't do basic math. At all! I'm actually wondering how she ever graduated from highschool. It isn't like we are asking her to multiply huge numbers together or do universtiy level math...it is literally doing weights and smoking history.

Let me explain (and rant a bit)

On our form, we have a question asking about the smoking history. It asks if they are a smoker (Y/N/Quit), how many cigarettes/day and for how many years. Then, if they quit smoking, the next question asks what year they quit smoking, and for how many years they smoked. When we enter it into our computers, you have to put A) the year of onset B) Packs/day and C)year of quitting. Basic stuff. She, in all her intelligence, can't figure out how to arrive at the year of onset.

This was an actual conversation we had yesterday. It is a good thing we just finished studying patience in my small group!

Pearl: So, how do I figure out when she started smoking?
Crystal: Well, when did she quit?
Pearl: Last year.
Crystal: How many years did she smoke?
Pearl: 21
Crystal: Ok...(hoping she'll clue in to the stupidity of her question....nope!)
Crystal: Ok...what year was that?
Pearl: 2005
Crystal: and she smoked for 21 years, so......(still hoping...hoping, hoping...NOPE)
Crystal: take the year now, and minus the number of years she smoked...(really slow talking. She has to get this, right?)
Pearl: OHHHH. So I just minus it.
Crystal: Yup! (Phew)
Pearl: So she started smoking in 93!
Crystal: Oh God!

I have a simple rule at my office. Don't touch my pen. This means, don't play with my pen, don't put it in your pocket, don't use it and don't give it to patients, even for a second. I like my pen and don't want it to go missing.I am very particular about my blue ink pen and admit that I take much ribbing about it. It is actually the first thing that I tell new staff. DON'T TOUCH MY PEN. I take it home with me at the end of the day. I keep in in my pocket or in my hand when I'm working. I am never far from my beloved pen. So, I bring my own pen and often feel quite bonded to my writing utensil. (I will even use my own pen at the jewelery store. I think I might have OCD)

Today, my pen died! And, gasp, I had to use one of the regular office pens. These are the cheapest pens Dr. P can find and infact, they are often freebies from conventions and hotels. They don't write as nice as my pen. They don't feel the same as my pen. They constantly disappoint me.

Oh sweet pen. How I will miss you so. You have been with me to Africa and on many exciting adventures. But, life moves on and when I get home this afternoon, you, my friend, will be replaced. I will shed a single tear for you and then my mourning will be over.

So long.

It is +30 outside.

He is watering the lawn.

I hope his roots fry and his lawn shrivels up and dies.

Boy, would I laugh and do my "I told you so" dance.

So, I went to the 25th anniversary party of my ex's parents on the weekend. The party itself was lovely, the weather cooperated and there was cake! What more could I ask for? Leading up to the shindig, however, I was an anxious wreck as I knew that he would be there and this was the first time we had seen each other in a year, almost to the exact weekend. It has been a rough year.

I went, even though a few of my family and friends gave me their 2 cents of advice, telling me not to go. There wasn't a lot of support on the yes side, but I'm glad I did go. I even had, gasp, fun!

We chatted, we laughed, we spent time around each other and I will admit that there was a part of me that wished things had turned out differently. I was far from innocent in the nastiness that came out in the last 1 1/2 years and I wish that I could take a lot of that back. But, as I was driving home, I had this great sense of peace about the whole day and I can honestly say that I now have closure. I thought I had it before but there was still a side of me that was bitter, angry and upset. There is freedom in knowing that we are over and done and that I can chalk that part of my life up to some incredible memories and some searing pain and some opportunities for growth.

I have no expectations of this relationship anymore. If it turns out that we can wave hello as we pass on the street and honestly be able to care when we ask "hey, how's it going" or if we can catch an occasional movie or drink, that's cool with me.

We hired a new lady (she is old enough to be my mother) last week and she started on Monday. I've trained her for the past 3 days. She wasn't getting it but was very eager to learn. She was just overwhelmed, which is understandable as learning a new computer system and all the stuff that we do here is a lot to take in.

She quit this morning. EGADS!

Now...we (or should I say, HE, but the stress will fall on me!) has 7 business days to hire and train a brand new girl.

I think my blood pressure is rising.

I hate this word. But, I have discovered that I am not alone in my dislike.

I also hate the word moist.

(shudder)

Carmen and I.


Carmen attempting to do a tequila shot...she sipped about a quarter and gave it to me. MMMM tequila.


Mom, Craig and Carmen as we had supper before the actual party started.


I don't think we've ever looked hotter!


I got a free tequila shot and it came with a fun sparker and a singing minstrel. Happpy birthday to me!


My mom at almost the end of the night. My mom rocks to hang out with us until the end of the night.



My oldest friend, Matthew. We've been friends since we were 4...that is 21 years and longer than most marriages!

My party was awesome! Thanks to all of you who came out to help me celebrate! Carmen came over and we got all gussied up for a night on the town including supper, drinks and dancing. My mom, Craig, Carmen and I started the night with supper at Julio's. The food was good and we got tequila shots to start the party off right. Even my mom partook. She rocks! We then met up with the rest of the party for drinks and some fun...our waitress Gina Phalange ;) was awesome and I got some cool gifts, including a flask and a yoga bolster and money and plants and books and candy. Yum. We also got Crave cupcakes! After a few drinks and since the bar was closing, Carmen, Craig, Hannah and I decided to head out for some dancing...
We went to Tantra...less skanky girls and some not so bad music. We danced up a storm, Carmen fell of her chair (in slow motion!) and we did a lot of people watching and mocking. Carmen and I danced with 2 very nice guys. I had a blast and it was the first time I've ever danced on the podium in the middle of the floor without more drinks under my belt. We left just after last call and headed home, exhausted, sweaty and a bit deaf.

It was a great birthday and I'm glad I got to spend it with those people closest to me. I just wish my dad would have been in town so he could have been there too!

On Monday, I get to give notice at my job.

As of July 4th, I will be gainfully employed by Samaritan's Purse.

Yippee!

I did something today that is uncharacteristically me.

I called my uncle Myron. Happy Birthday Myron!


As I was growing up, I used to dread my birthday. I always wanted to have a party with my friends and eat cake and have fun. I was only allowed 1 friend to come over and I still had to do chores. But, the real reason I hated my actual birthday, was because I had to spend the evening with my uncle Myron. We shared the same birthday and for some reason, he figured that this was reason to celebrate and bond. He is really my dad's uncle. Every year, he would call a week before my birthday and set up plans with me. He would pick me up from the farm on his motorcycle, take me to the Hong Kong and we'd have ginger beef. (yum) He would always get me a crystal present. How very cleaver of him! I have a water pitcher, goblets, napkin holder, candy dishes and ornaments. At the time, I never really appreciated it but now, those things are sitting in my hopeless chest and one day, I will be able to put them in a fancy china cabinet. I didn't enjoy spending the time with him when I was younger, and in fact, he creeped me out a bit. I wanted to spend the day with my friends or grandparents (who would have spoiled me!) but instead I had to hang out with my wierd uncle. I hated it. This tradition stopped when I was about 15.

So today, I called him and wished him a Happy Birthday. I had to leave a message but I figure it is better than nothing. I hope he has a great day!

Some of my favourite birthday highlights...

1. Last year spending it with my mom. We went for supper, had drinks and then coffee. We checked out policemen at stoplights and had a great time.
2. My 16th when Corey decided I needed a car and brought our old farm truck to my highschool, filled with manure and a huge sign that proclaimed whose birthday it was. Even my principle was in on this gift of love!
3. Getting my porcelin bears from Grandpa and Grandma E the day after a family wedding. They were dressed as a bride and groom and I fittingly named them Les and Kerry. I think I was 8...and we were at Pine Lake.
4. I got a book from Jared (right before I dumped him! Oops) for my birthday that I had mentioned a month before, in passing, that I wanted. He even wrote something sweet on the inside.
5. Clubbing with Nik and Craig and Jason at Outlaws. Most of the night was a blur, but I do remember that we did have fun!

Good times...Noodle Salad

Do you ever get a comment, hear a song or smell something that brings you back to another memory? I love it when that happens...

I bought myself a shirt the other day that is bright pink. Not little girly pink but fushia pink. I love it. I had a patient comment that they love this color and used to have boots the same color. All of a sudden, I was transported back to my childhood years when we lived on the farm.

We had chickens. Not a few chickens but 12,000 birds in 3 seperate barns. We had to do chores 3 times a day and the last set of chores for the day were the job of my brother and I. We had to go into the barns, and pick the eggs and put them on a conveyor belt. When we were done picking ALL the eggs, we went to the front of the barn and cleaned the eggs and did other chores. It took about an hour to do both barns. (The third barn was for the chicks)

When I was about 12, I became terrified of the chickens. My parents thought I was crazy but I would cry and beg and plead to not have to go into the barns with the birds. The job of picking eggs, which should have taken me about 15 minutes (Craig did one side, I did the other) took me an hour. I would start at one end, get scared, run to the back, get scared, run to the front...and eventually either finish the job sobbing uncontrollby or sit in the corner scared shitless until Craig or my parents came and finished. It was insane. The reason I was so scared? I was being attacked...by the roosters! They would flare their neck feathers, and run at you. Normally, we could just kick them...hard and they would realize that their fight was futile and leave us alone. Not me. I was convinced they could smell my fear. The birds hung out on slates, which were about hip height to me. The roosters would follow me from the front of the barn to the back, flaring and attacking...over and over. No one believed me. There was one, I'm sure it was the same one every time...but he would wait for me behind the hen's nests (which were mini-houses) and would run at my head when I got near. He was evil. I was terrified of this stupid bird.

Finally, they realized that maybe I wasn't crazy when this "phase" lasted for forever and that maybe the problem was my bright pink boots. The birds were attracted to it and would run at me. So that was the end of my pink boots and I was back to boring black. I lived on that farm until I was about 15 and continued to work there all through High School. My heart would still beat a bit faster and I'd get a bit anxious every time I went into those barns. I was traumatized by some stupid chickens...

I'm still convinced that those roosters had it out for me.

I miss my pink boots!

Today I got flowers delivered to my office!

The card?

With love, from your sisters.

I am speechless...








You ladies are incredible and I am so blessed to know you!