Monday, October 26, 2009

Cobb salad, healthcare, and handguns

I just got back from a whirlwind weekend back home in Nebraska. Time was not my friend - it slipped away from me far too quickly and I wasn't able to see all of the people I planned on, but I was able to attend two incredible events.

The first event, the MS Society wine walk, was a wonderful way to spend time with friends and support a great cause. (My grandfather suffered with the disease for years.) We walked, wined, and shopped with many of the stores donating partial proceeds to the society.

The second event, a wedding, was heartwarming as well. There is nothing like getting all dressed up and celebrating two people in love starting their lives together. Throw in some friends and wine and I was a really happy girl.

So after an exhausting (but oh so much fun) 36 hours in Nebraska it was time to board a plane again and head to my other home. Waking up at 6:30 am to get on a plane after a long, late night isn't my favorite thing in the world to do. I struggled to throw on a hoodie and brush my teeth. To be honest I'm not even really sure if I brushed my hair.

In Chicago the airline needed to bump a person from the flight and offered a free round trip flight in return. The airline lady hadn't even finished her announcement when I threw my hands up in the air to take her up on it. Woo hoo!!! No shame there. I hear "free" and "plane ticket" in the same sentence and I am all over it.

Thinking I'd use my newly acquired 2 hour layover wisely, I headed to Chilis for lunch. As I took a seat at the bar, some guy next to me offered some hand sanitizer. I shouldn't have accepted his kind offer to kill airport germs because apparently with that I also invited conversation. The first thing he asks/tells me about is Obama's healthcare plan. Or as he saw it, the United States going to hell in a handbasket. I smiled and told him I didn't know enough to comment. (A lie, yes, but I wasn't going to get sucked into this firestorm.)

Somehow by declining to comment on the current state of health care I also provoked him to talk about our right to bear arms. I'm still not sure how his mind jumped from doctor bills to gun ownership, but I found myself shoveling cobb salad in my mouth as fast as I could to get away from his overbearing and unsolicited opinions. I was relieved to get my bill and go to my gate.

Boarding the plane, I was pleased to find that I had the emergency row. More leg room = excellent. My excitement was short lived. Guess who occupied the seat next to me? Yup. Chilis dude. He got all excited and said it was fate that we got to sit next to each other. Why didn't I feel so lucky? I spent the next hour and a half in the air with my hood pulled up over my head pretending to sleep.

I suppose putting up with some guy's rant was still worth the free ticket, but for the love of pete, just let a girl eat her salad.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

A little doctor

Walking onto the psych floor, wearing my white coat, and armed with questions for the nurses about a patient who was about to be discharged, I patiently waited while they finished chit-chatting amongst themselves. My questions were eventually answered and after that an unexpected comment was slung my way.

Nurse 1: "Aw, isn't that cute? You look like a little doctor."

Me: Thinking to myself that I was a doctor of sorts. I mean, a doctor of pharmacy, but a doctor nonetheless. I paused for a moment to mentally compose a response, but my momentary lapse allowed another nurse to speak up before I could say anything.

Nurse 2: "Um, she is a doctor. She's a pharmacist."

Nurse 1: "Oh. I see. Well, she looks 19."

I wasn't sure if it was supposed to feel condescending, but suddenly I felt like I was about 5 years old. Did she want to see an ID? With a smile and a shrug I walked away.

I suppose being 28 and looking 19 is probably better than being 28 and looking 37, but once again I found myself trying to prove that I was really truly a pharmacist - or a "little doctor."

*Sigh*

Better luck tomorrow, I guess. Maybe.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Birthday Fun

Some people dread birthdays. I am not one of those people. I think it's a day for celebration. Another year older and wiser.

My coworkers were awesome and brought cookies and treats.

My parents sent me a cute wallet and Adam got me an awesome book. Anyone not familiar with Frank Warren and his Post Secret Project needs to check out his website. Every Sunday he posts a whole new set of secrets from people all around the country which I find inspiring, sad, and funny - sometimes all at the same time.


Adam had planned a celebratory dinner at a local Italian restaurant. When we got there it was pretty quiet. Just us and a guy playing live jazz music. I know it was supposed to play into the ambiance of the restaurant, but I couldn't help but giggle and think of the scene with the jazz flute from Anchorman. (Click here and fast forward to the 1:15 mark.) The food was amazing, and so was my company.

After that was Husker football - strange for a Thursday. I think they planned it just for me. The game didn't start until late and I struggled to stay awake towards the end. The only reason I knew we scored was when Adam cheered. I tried to pretend that I was still awake and paying attention, but I don't think I was too convincing.

It was a great day and I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who made it so special.

Friday, October 9, 2009

It's just a spider - the sequel

Exhausted after 14 hours at work, I flopped down on the couch at home to watch mindless television on TLC. After about an hour with eyes drooping it was time to head to bed. I started picking up some random crap laying around the living room - a shopping bag, a stack of papers, a computer bag with a spider on it. Wait. A computer bag with a spider on it?? Nooooooooooo!


I dropped the bag and papers immediately and once again almost threw up. (I really wish my spider reactions weren't tears and vomit.) The spider just sat there.

Shaken, but ticked off, I grabbed a shoe (Adam's shoe) and held it up high in the air ready for battle. After one swat, I think it lost a leg, but it was still crawling. Gritting my teeth, I gave it one more go. The computer bag and the spider didn't stand a chance. The entire mess went straight to the garbage can - heck if I was going to clean off spider goo from my bag!

I know it's October and Halloween is coming up, but I'd rather the spiders stay inside of the haunted houses and stay out of mine. I can't handle much more of this.

**UPDATE**
An hour after I posted this, Deming found another one. It met its demise in almost the exact place it's predecessor did. Two in one night isn't even fair. It's just mean.

Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Frenemies

About a month ago a black cat showed up on our front porch - just hanging out, begging for a belly rub. I think it's a neighbor's outside cat, but honestly I'm not sure where it came from. Thinking it would be good for Deming to have some outside stimulation, I held her up to the window so she could see. She started meowing like crazy and jumped up on the window sill.


Her new friend thought the window sill was a great idea and joined the party.



I thought it was really cute the way they were trying to communicate through the window and decided that I would crack open the window a smidge so they could have a kitty cat chat (or whatever the heck cats do).

Bad idea.

The purring and meowing turned into a hissing fit when I opened the window. Apparently Deming and her new outside friend have a love/hate relationship that leans toward hate when they can actually smell each other. Who knew?

Cats are strange.

Sunday, October 4, 2009

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta

Last weekend Adam and I went on a much deserved vacation to Omaha. (FYI, when you mention 'vacation' and 'Omaha' in the same sentence, people laugh at you.) We had a fun-filled weekend planned ahead of us. Family, friends, and FOOTBALL!!!

Husker gamedays in Lincoln are insane. The first thing you notice is the sense of community. Everyone is friendly and happy to be there. Red attire is a must. Each tailgate site hosts its own BBQ where marinated steaks and homemade burger patties are standard. It's heaven.


The game itself is a whole other level of awesome. Goosebumps raise on your arms when the crowd roars. Old people, college kids, and little kids alike spend 4 quarters cheering in support of their team. It is a family environment.


With all of that said, there was one guy who didn't get the memo...

The game ended and we said goodbye to Adam's dad, uncle, and cousin. Walking back to the tailgate site amongst the masses of fans leaving the stadium, we were going to meet up with my parents. We made it back to the truck before anyone else did and about 15 minutes later I spotted my mom. I turned towards the truck to grab a drink and when I turned back around, I saw one of the most bizarre things I have ever witnessed. Some kid, 20 years old at most, was in my dad's face yelling at him. Mom was trying to get my dad to get closer to the truck and away from this nutjob.

Ok, I have to explain something about my dad. He is possibly the nicest man on the planet. Truly. He's the guy who walks around whistling with a smile on his face at all times. He is the LAST person on the face of the planet that anyone would pick a fight with. Yet here I stood trying to understand why some punk in a black and white polo was attempting to fight my father.

Instinctively, and perhaps somewhat irrationally, I placed myself in between my dad and this ruffian. I will refer to him as douchebag (DB) for the remainder of the story.

Me: "Um, what is the problem here?"

DB: "Who the hell are you?" His pupils were as big as dinner plates and surely was doing a little bit more than just drinking.

Me: "I'm his daughter."

(Yes, looking back, I realize that announcing that I was his daughter was not scary, or threatening, and in fact sounded ridiculous.)

DB: Looks me up and down and sneers, "I've turned down better than you," then proceeds to yell over me at my dad. "This is 2009, bitch, I will beat an old man's ass."

I'd like to make two observations. One, I never offered anything to this guy, so I'm not exactly sure what he was turning down. Two, I didn't realize that in 2009 it was in vogue to beat up dads.

It was at this point that Adam looks over to see some dude in my face and then further notices that my dad is somehow involved. Confused, he comes and stands to my right side. My dad's friend flanks my other side and everyone is pretty quiet trying to assess the situation except for me who is still trying to figure out what on earth had happened.

I pleaded with DB's "posse" (4 other guys just standing there) to take their friend and peacefully leave. They just looked at me. Cops had been called by this point, though DB claimed that he had a police scanner and that no one had done such a thing.

Behind me, people are gathering - ready to take care of business if need be, but hoping it wouldn't have to come to that. I stood toe-to-toe with this guy thinking, "Oh my god, I'm going to get punched."

As people became more aware of the situation and the support on our side mounted we started backing this kid up. As he reversed, DB bumped into our tailgate neighbor and turned his agression on him. I took the opportunity to take off running to find some sort of security.

I found security alright - they were tearing apart a brawl on the ground about 200 feet away. Tugging on the yellow shirt of a security lady, I said, "I realize that you have an issue here, but you are about to have another one right down the way if you don't come quick." She uttered a curse word and then took off running after me.

DB wasn't afraid of me. He wasn't afraid of the growing crowd. The one thing he was afraid of was a lady in a yellow shirt. One look at parking lot security and he and his buddies took off with a quickness.

No one was hurt, just more confused than anything, and we all looked to my dad for an answer as to what started the madness. Dad said that while he and my mom were walking back to the tailgate, this kid poked my dad in the chest right where his Husker "N" was. Yelled at him, "Where is your spirit?" His buddy told him not to lay his hands on people. My dad responded the same way, "Don't touch me." Again DB asked, "Where is your spirit?" Dad responded, "Where is yours? I'm wearing red," and kept walking. The guy and his group followed my parents all the way to their vehicle after that just trying to start something that didn't need to be started.

It was unfortunate that the Husker experience was tainted by an unruly "fan," but we still had a great time over all and we got to enjoy a great meal afterwards at Misty's.

Some words of advice: Don't mess with my dad. You will get me in your face faster than you can say "Go Big Red."

Thursday, October 1, 2009

It's just a spider

The scene 5 minutes ago:

Deming takes of running after something in the apartment - probably nothing. I mean, she chases her own tail. She's not the brightest.

I think she wants to play so I chase her. She's making chirping noises in the kitchen. I was thinking that it was the worst game of hide and seek ever.

Turns out, she doesn't want to play with me. She's content playing with this giant arachnid on the floor:


Here is a list of things I do:
  • Scream for assistance if I see an 8-legged creature
  • Become nauseous thinking about said creature
  • Cover my ears and scrunch my face up while someone squishes the invader
  • Run away and wait for someone to magically dispose of it

What I don't do:
  • Kill spiders

Adam was not around to flex his man muscles and save me from this mess, so tonight I had three options: let it run free throughout my apartment, capture it, or kill it.

Option one was just ridiculous.

Option two seemed good so I grabbed a plastic cup and cried while I played capture the spider. I felt better for about a second and then realized that I had to proceed to option three - there was no way I was leaving that thing under a cup for the rest of the night.

My weapons of choice were a shoe and a few curse words that would make George Carlin blush. Of course I didn't use my shoe. (Tee hee, sorry Adam.)

That spider has since moved on to a "better place."

I'm going to go throw up now.