Space and Time

I’m really over educated.  I could give you the laundry list of my education, but I won’t.  However and but?  I’m filing out financial papers to take classes this summer.  Why?  Because remember the job interview I couldn’t shut up through?  If I learn enough crap for it, I could have a different job.  3000 miles away.  I could move.  Let me say that a little more excitedly, I Could Finally Move People!  I have been happy here for the time I have been here, but I have always known that this was just a resting point.  Never a stopping point.  Never a place to be.  And now I have opportunity to get the heck out of here.

Why is it when people find out that you want to leave, you suddenly become an elitist?  Seriously.  I’m not a snob.  I’ve picked my teeth in public with rolled up paper ok?  I’m hardly a snob.  Yet, I’ve lived in a town over 1/2 a million and to come back to 20,000 is too hard.  Every thing closes up at 10 pm.  Bowling and skating are considered a night life.  No offense to people who enjoy doing those activities, because those are fun, but they are hardly worth getting out of bed every day for.  Drinking a Bud Light and watching cronies swing a ball every Friday night for the next 10 years doesn’t make me want to sing it high on the mountain top.  Call me an elitist.  Maybe it is true.  I want more from life than that.

I feel bad for people who don’t.

I had my yearly physical today.  Good times.  My yearly scrap and fondle.  Only I go once a quarter since I have female issues.  Even more good times.  The good news?  I’m loosing weight without an apparent reason why.  The bad news?  I’m loosing weight without an apparent reason why.  I’ll take it either way.

Have I told you I have shingles?  I haven’t?  I’m so sorry, I’ll keep you in the loop better.  They hurt.  Remember when I had three jobs?  I’m back down to one.  I paid the bills I needed to pay.  Now I’m tired.  And itchy.  And I hurt.  I also have a pharmacy in my cabinet.  You need anything, I probably have it.  Including heavy duty antibiotics because of a secondary infection from the shingles.  Have I told you how pretty I am lately?  What with the rash, the itchiness, the allergies I normally have this time of year, the scratching my skin off, I’m a delight.  This is my year to stay on my couch, eat ice cream and become anti social get off the  single track for sure!

One funny thing while I was being scraped and fondled.  My doctor was trying to make conversation and I Just.Can’t.Talk. while you know, that is happening.  I said, I’ll be right back.  Oh my GOD, I have to quit IM’ing.

1. A tremor in the pants. The last time I felt this was in the presence of
my old master.

2.You are unwise to lower your pants.

3. We’ve got to be able to get some reading on those pants, up or down.

4.She must have hidden the plans in her pants. Send a detachment down to
retrieve them. See to it personally Commander.

5. These pants may not look like much, kid, but they’ve got it where it counts.

6. I find your lack of pants disturbing.

7. These pants contain the ultimate power in the Universe. I suggest we
use it.

8.Han will have those pants down. We’ve got to give him more time!

9. General Veers, prepare your pants for a surface assault.

10. I used to bulls-eye womp-rats in my pants back home.

11.TK-421. . . Why aren’t you in your pants?

12.Lock the door. And hope they don’t have pants.

13. Governor Tarkin. I recognized your foul pants when I was brought on board.

14.You look strong enough to pull the pants off of a Gundark.

15.Luke. . . Help me take…these pants off.

16. Great, Chewie, great. Always thinking with your pants.

17.That blast came from those pants. That thing’s operational!

18. Don’t worry. Chewie and I have gotten into a lot of pants more heavily
guarded than this.

19. Maybe you’d like it back in your pants, your highness.

20.Your pants betray you. Your feelings for them are strong. Especially
for your sister!

21.Jaba doesn’t have time for smugglers who drop their pants at the
first sign of an Imperial Cruiser.

22.Yeah, well short pants is better than no pants at all, Chewie.

23. Attention. This is Lando Calrissean. The Empire has taken control of
my pants, I advise everyone to leave before more troops arrive.

24. I cannot teach him. The boy has no pants.

25.You came in those pants? You’re braver than I thought.

When I was a child and mad at my mother, I would go around whispering.  I don’t remember what I would whisper, but my mother tells the stories all the time about me getting huffy and whispering.  Now, I grew up as an only child because my sister had left the home by this point.  So who was I talking to but the voices in my head?

Joshua is learning to talk. But he has two volumes.  At the top of his lungs so that the neighbors two blocks away can hear.  Or he whispers.  And really prefers the whispers.  It is annoying.  He says his name.  He says momma.  He has a whole conversation in his baby voice, in a whisper.  And I was telling my mom this.

She laughed her butt off for a good three minutes before she could catch her breath.  What comes around goes around.

 I guess I used to scream also.  Damn I was a hard child.

Have you ever, per chance asked someone if they were to have a job opening that you would be interested?  And then they call you?  And you are so nervous and excited that you can not shut up?  And you actually use the phrase "shuck it to the cob" in the initial interview?  Because it does sound professional and all.  But you can’t get your mouth to shut up?  And you know the person on the other line is thinking, man what has she been snorting today?  When I haven’t been snorting anything, I am just so nervous that my lips refuse to slow down to breath.

And when the person finally says "uncle" at the end of an hour when all he has heard is the sound of glass grating in a food processor, all you can say is, "Thank you for your time".  Hoping against all hope they  ignore your rambling and inability to stay on a topic for longer than a nano second.

But instead, you here, yes Melissa, I think you are smart enough to learn this.

That’s when your lips decide they can’t move.

1. When on the phone, and she is listing the symptoms, please don’t say can you be there in 30 minutes.  Or  less.

2.  When the student PA is the first person who looks at the odd rash, she should never say "Hmmmm, well I  need to go look at a few books.

3.  Don’t leave the anxiety ridden, sleep deprived mother in the waiting room by herself to think horrible  thoughts for 20     minutes.

4. When I peek my head through the door to see if the Rapture has taken place and I’ve been left behind, or  just forgotten  about, that means I need a Xanax.  And some answers.

5.  When prescribing the actual medicine and you are consulting each other, don’t talk in hushed tones.    Please.  Because I  am about to loose my shit and I really need you to talk loudly and clearly.

Now with all that said, I should clarify, I love my doctor’s office.  They have been very supportive of me and my lack of baby knowledge.    However, Joshua developed a very strange rash late Thursday night and I with held looking it up on Google because I would have him diagnosed to die in three hours.  I did call the Peds 24 hour line and they said it could wait till morning since he didn’t have any other symptoms with it.  Ok, I’m inhaling deeply.  Except for it did have other symptoms.  He became a demon from hell that I couldn’t contain or control.  Normally?  Joshua is very laid back and the complete opposite of my high maintenance personality.  Thursday night, he became Hitler, demanding, refusing to sleep, running a slight fever, irritable and sensitive.  Not emergency room sick, but not my child either. 

With all this in mind, when the cute little student PA went to look his rash up in a book, and I sat there forever by myself, I really started to freak. (and I just tried to start a new record there with a run on sentence-go me!)  I am not opposed to student PA’s.  This town is privy to a teaching hospital that is ranked pretty high with the people who rank that kind of stuff, so I am never worried about the quality of care provided.  But please don’t leave me in a room to worry for 20 minutes with no explanation of what you are thinking.

After the doctor peeled me off the ceiling, and assured me that Joshua wasn’t dying post-haste, all was well.  He has an ear infection and a Staph infection.  I don’t know where he got the latter from.  He is on adult strength antibiotics and some kind of cream that smells like death congealed in a microwave.  But he will be ok.

The fact that I didn’t Google pictures of his rash and self diagnose is what I am proudest of.  Self control, oh yeah baby!

Yes people, I am the trashy girl you mumble about who has a “tramp stamp” with my own name. Guess what? I am not a tramp, I do have my own name on my body and I don’t need my lover to remember my name. What is the tattoo? It is a reminder of a time of doing stuff I should not have been doing with people I should not have been doing with.

(For those who choose to look real close, those are little knife scars by the “Y”. So, uhm yeah. )

Lesson for the day? You might want to know the person and what was going on before you shoot of your mouth.