Calling All Nurses!

Since so many people in my immediate circle are nurses (including my sister and my pen pal), I wanted to let you all know about where to find nursing scrubs, scrubs pants, scrubs tops, nurse uniforms, and, well, scrubs clothing in general – if you haven't already hear about this place:

Blue Sky Scrubs.

As I have made abundantly clear in most of my blogs, I like comfortable clothing. If it weren't for the fact that I don't handle crises well when it happens to other people and I have an aversion to cleaning up vomit, because it makes me throw up, I would have become a nurse – not because I wanted to go into the nursing profession, but because I wanted to wear comfortable scrubs clothing. Seriously, I could live in a nursing uniform.

And now that my hair is growing back after chemo, and it still looks hideous, I still wear the hats and scarves so many of my friends gave to me during my early stages of breast cancer. As cute/beautiful/pretty as those hats and scarves are, though, most of them are quite hot indoors, but Blue Sky Scrubs offers hats I can wear INDOORS without getting too hot, and the selection is awesome.

Who'd've thought nursing scrubs could help cancer patients? I would post a photo of myself with my hair today, but it might frighten you, so I'm just going to say this: I'm seriously considering getting some of these nursing scrubs items for myself.

And for all of you who actually are nurses and are looking for some really cute cheap (read inexpensive) scrub tops, uniforms, and scrubs clothing, I invite you to click on any of the links in this blog.

Seinfeld, Glee, Low-Talker Brittany, Taylor, and Misunderstandings

Jerry Seinfeld once coined the term low-talker in his Seinfeld television series. People who speak barely above a whisper are low-talkers. Glee's Brittany Pierce (Heather Morris) personifies the low-talker and so does my granddaughter, Taylor, who also sometimes speaks barely above a whisper. Because she is difficult to hear, she is sometimes difficult to understand.

I've been in Virginia with my son and his family for the past couple of weeks, so I've had lots of interactions with Taylor, Kaden, and Zac. Kaden and Zac are LOUD. Taylor is loud only when she is yelling at Kaden, but Taylor's voice is usually, especially when I ask Taylor a question, barely detectable. My inability to hear her often leads to misunderstandings and misinterpretations.

Fortunately, I grill Taylor to explain her low-talking revelations. Last night, for instance, when she was supposed to be in bed, she ran downstairs and jumped on the computer. Here's how the conversation went from my perspective (keep in mind that even if I had used one of those funnels in my ear, I still wouldn't have been able to hear her properly):

Me: Taylor, what are you doing? You're supposed to be in bed.
Taylor: I'm looking up something.
Me: Well, if it's for school, why did you wait until after bedtime to look it up?
Taylor (who was in the same room but sounded as if she were talking from another continent): iuo
Me: What are you looking up?
Taylor: Inventor. (Wow, I actually heard that one.)
Me: Which inventor?
Taylor (again from another continent): Mariah Carey.

I could have let it go, because, quite honestly, I didn't know that Mariah Carey invented anything outside of vocal chords that stretched beyond human comprehension. But I persisted.

Me: I didn't know Mariah Carey invented anything.
Taylor (in her lowest possible voice): Muhrie Krey.
Me: Muhrie Krey?
Taylor (even lower): Mre Kre.
Me: Mre Kre???

At this point I stretched my neck until I felt like a giraffe so I could get as close to Taylor as was humanly possible without crushing her. This frightened me, because I'm getting older and older. Pretty soon I won't be able to hear normal-speaking people. How will I deal with low-talkers? I'll be completely left out of every conversation. But now that I was inside her throat I could hear her.

Taylor: Marie Curie.
Me: Oh, well, that makes more sense.

Bottom line: sometimes we don't understand our kids because we don't hear them properly, or sometimes our perceptions are just a little off. The next time your kids or grandkids tell you something that doesn't make sense, probe. And if they are low-talkers, consider surgically implanting loud speakers in their voice boxes.

The Clone Blog

What do you do when, for TWO WHOLE MONTHS, you have to deal with a ton of personal issues, including a car in need of more than a thousand dollars worth of repair, a broken vacuum cleaner with a warranty (but the nearest fix-it place is 50 miles away), a broken refrigerator (cost me several hundred dollars), a broken computer (would cost the price of a new computer to fix), no Internet connection (so even with a working computer, what difference would it make), seven blogs that cry for your attention, a memory that fails every now and then to remind you to take your cancer drugs and your asthma medicine, AND you take care of children all day long?

Well, I can't answer for you, but for me, I've decided to clone my blogs – at least this once.

Yessiree. If you go to any of my blogs (all of which are listed at the end of this blog), you will find that on this day, December 6, 2010, every single one of my blogs will say exactly the same thing as does this blog – assuming I don't get interrupted while I'm posting everywhere, that is.

So, without further ado (I don't think I've ever used that word before), here are a couple of (shortened versions of) blogs I would have written if I could have found the time and a working Internet connection:

MY HAIR

When my hair began to grow after chemo destroyed it, I noticed about a thousand cowlicks EVERYWHERE. In other words, I continue to look as if I am permanently affixed to an invisible electrical socket.

My youngest daughter and I were sitting in the cafeteria at Barnes and Noble (one of my favorite places to visit) when I spotted two women, who at first appeared to be reflections of me in the windows and whose hair looked as ugly as mine did. Of course mine was hiding beneath Avon's Breast Cancer cap, so nobody could tell how truly ugly it was.

In complaining to my daughter about how horrible I felt, because every time I looked in the mirror I saw a frightening apparition, I decided to illustrate my sense of horror by pointing out the two women to her.

"See those two women sitting by the window with their short, ugly, no-style hair?" I asked my daughter. She discreetly turned around.

"That's how I feel," I continued.

"You feel gay?" she asked.

OK, before you get all uppity, know this: several people I know are gay, and one of my best friends is gay – I think HE would get a laugh out of my daughter's comment.

MY FASHION SENSE

Everybody knows I have none – fashion sense, that is. I even wrote about my lack of fashion sense in my Weekend of Fashion blog, which I invite you to read by clicking the link.

Never had my lack of fashion sense been more apparent, though, than the year Jim Riordan shot his movie, Maddance, and one of his actors needed an outfit for a character she considered to be "trailer trashy."

Oh, what to wear, what to wear? Her eyes settled on me. I was wearing a broom skirt with a button down sleeveless top and a pair of sandals.

"That outfit, the one you're wearing. That would be perfect."

The #@%$&! What irks me even more is that I actually GAVE her my outfit!

WHEN TEMPERS FLARE

Yes, I'll admit it. I have a temper. Some people might be surprised to learn that I do because I usually hide it, though not always very well. You can tell when I'm upset, though, because I sulk or become an absolute witch.

Seething with sarcasm, my eyes squint into slivers of hatred. I become a cartoon character of myself, and I really don't like ME when I act that way (though, believe me, I have plenty of reasons to be "witchy" sometimes). In spite of those reasons, I really TRY to be mature (at my age, you would think that would come naturally by now).

Sadly I can't always help myself, so I'd kind of like other people to step forward and slap my mind with things like, "Do you realize you're acting like a temper-tantrum-throwing child?" or  (sarcastically) "Yeah, it's all about you!" or (even more sarcastically) "Nobody else ever in the history of life itself has ever had as many problems as you do. You deserve the status of martyr. Give me the phone. I must call the Pope!"

When I act like the Wicked Witch of the West I don't understand why people don't just throw a house on me. Maybe my toes curling beneath the pressure of a house smashing me into the ground would be the catalyst for change and I would respond differently. I could smile and say chirpy little comments, like, "My car needs over a thousand dollars worth of repair – the Universe must be trying to tell me something." ("You're getting too old to drive, Nimwit!"), and, "My computer is so broken, it will cost me the price of a new computer to fix it, so the Universe must be trying to tell me something." ("You're the one who wanted to be a writer – maybe you should rethink you're 'ideal job'.")

Or, and this is just a thought, maybe people should start being more responsible for OTHER people, especially those – like me – who need…what? What do I need – a heavy dose of reality? No, thank you. I think I've had  plenty of that…a reminder that lots of people have it worse than I do? No, that won't work. Oh, how about ________ (fill in the blank – I'm trying out a new type of blog – interactive – how's that working for me)?

Oh, you know what? Just throw a house on me!

Hmm, you don't like my remedy for witchiness? Be gone! Before somebody throws a house on you!

COMCAST

Comcast is on my hits (rearrange the letters) list. For the past three years since I moved into my home I have had intermittent problems with my Internet connection, and EVERY SINGLE TIME I call them and they send a tech, without fail, the technician who arrives at my home to FIX (choke choke) the problem tells me that the guy who came before him didn't know what he was doing.

I repeat – EVERY SINGLE TIME.

So, does that mean that for the past 3 years, every technician Comcast has sent to my home has been incompetent, or does Comcast hire egocentric techs with superiority complexes who believe that nobody but them knows how to properly connect a computer to the Internet?

Whatever. My Internet connection is in Illinois while I am in Virginia enjoying, in addition to attending to the needs of my grandchildren, a reliable Internet connection. Could the fact that I'm in Quantico, hub of the FBI and other government agencies, have anything to do with that, I wonder?

Despite the vacuum cleaner/computer/Internet/car/refrigerator problems I have been deftly dealing with over the past several months, I have managed to get a couple of articles and blogs written, the most recent of which is Paranormal Gifts for Your Paranormal Loved One.

In my Help For Single Parents blog, my most recent postings are:
PREVENT BULLYING
Applauding Accomplishments
Single Parent Resources

The three recent posts that appear in my Paranormal Minds blog are:
Why Does the Tarot Scare People?
Interviewing the Dead
I Have a Confession to Make

My Heart Blogs To You includes the following recent posts:
What Happened This Halloween
T-Ball With Kaden
Why I Have No Time To Write
Jeremy – Another Writer In My Family

Your Weird Dreams could appear in this blog along with these dreams:
The Bobby and The Dead Guy In The Trunk
Violent Murder In A Dream
Dream of Former Workplace

Writer of Blogs includes only one recent post:
How Embarrassment Became a Kindle

Your Blog Connection is currently disconnected due to the fact that I have not interviewed anybody recently for that blog.
But just because I had no time to devote to this blog, doesn't mean you can't check it out ;) Also, if you want YOUR blog covered, let me know.

My Wordpress Blog:
Nothing new here, either, but feel free to visit for links to my other blogs and articles that automatically post here.

My most recent Associated Content Articles include the following:
A Halloween Paranormal Nightmare While Awake
I Wish Somebody Would Do Something About That!
The Perfect Gift for People Who Have Everything

My most recent Xomba Articles include:
A Halloween Paranormal Nightmare While Awake: Halloween Voices Won't Let You Sleep
Interview With Dead Rock Star Jim Morrison of the Doors
Learning the Mysteries of The Tarot
Paranormal Gifts for Your Paranormal Loved One

Hopefully by 2011, everything will be less stressful and I'll be writing more. The only way I can see that happening, though, is to find my own planet. But then I'd have to consider the costs to get there and...

In the meantime, thank you for reading this blog and clicking on the links.

Jeremy – Another Writer In My Family

Grandson Jeremy pushing Great Granddaughter Ayla in swing

Finally! Somebody else in my family (which includes my parents, my two sisters, my four children, my ten grandchildren, and my two great grandchildren) wants to write.

My nine-year-old grandson, Jeremy (who admittedly is about as strange as the rest of my family – maybe he got it from me), is in the process of writing a story! Finally, one of my offspring's offspring has caught the writing bug.

I can't wait to read it – it's about a Chinese serial killer named José.

Why I Have No Time To Write

Nolan and Ayla Eating Lunch In The Back Yard

In addition to watching two of my grandchildren (Nolan and Audrey) every day (mostly Nolan when Audrey is in school), I am now watching Ayla (my great granddaughter) for the week while her mommy (my granddaughter, Sarah) picks up her daddy from California to drive him back to Illinois. No more Marines for Drew.

So in order for me to get any writing done at all, I have to sneak on the computer when everybody is preoccupied. Right now, Nolan and Ayla are seated at a table eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (see photo).

Prior to eating, we drove to the bank and to Walgreens to get a couple of my prescriptions filled. On the way there, the kids decided they wanted to play a game.

Nolan said, "I'm Super Why."

Ayla said, "I'm Super Princess."

And Nolan added, "Grandma, you can be the pig."

What more can I add? 

T-Ball With Kaden

Kaden at t-ball

I forgot to mention one tiny little event that occurred on my recent visit to Virginia. My son had pulled into the parking lot for my grandson's t-ball game. The tiny parking lot was surrounded by trees, so I was having a hard time imagining where the field might be. All I could see was a port-a-potty, other cars, and a bunch of trees.

It had to be behind the forest preserve, I reasoned. And it was. Unlike any t-ball field I've ever seen, this one was down a very l-o-n-g, steep trail that led to an open field. I was huffing and puffing by the time we got to the bottom of the mountain. The other team forgot to show up though, so we had to leave.



The weekend after my first visit to this field, I would return with my son's three children, because he and his wife were on a white-water rafting trip. With the help of GPS, I found my way to the parking lot and managed to get the ball, the bat, the cap, the helmet, the drinks, and the kids down the trail and on to the field. YAY! I could finally sit down.



Midway through the second inning (out of only three), Kaden came to me to tell me he had to go to the bathroom.

"Really? Now? You're going to make me hike all the way back to the parking lot where the port-a-potty is located? You can't wait? You'll miss half the game!" 



But he really had to go, so I asked Taylor to watch Zac while I trekked back up the mountain to the outdoor potty.



Out of breath and realizing I didn't have any tissue with me, but unwilling to hike back to the fields, I opened the door to hell and watched Kaden walk in. He froze in sheer panic and started to vomit. He had made the mistake of looking inside the port-a-potty.



"I can't do this!" he cried. 



"Just do it quickly," I suggested. "Don't look."



"I can't. It's too disgusting. It smells too bad."



I wanted to say I'd stay inside with him, but I couldn't. I know. I'm a horrible grandma, but I was almost vomiting too; the stench was that bad. 



We argued for a while: 

"I have to go!"

"So go!"

"I can't."

"Then what do you want to do?"


"I want to go."

"So go!"

"I can't."



After I realized the conversation was forming a circular pattern, I offered Kaden the ground outside the port-a-potty as an option.



But I had no toilet paper with me and Kaden was really concerned: "What if somebody sees me?"



So we decided he would tough it out. He hobbled back to the game, holding his stomach the whole way, and throughout the rest of that game and the next worked through the pain.

What a trooper my little Kaden was. If he ever has bowel obstruction problems, though, I'm blaming the people who are supposed to be in charge of cleaning the port-a-potty.

Christmas In an Online Bed/Bath Shop

Christmas is coming and while I'd love to tell you about gifts you can purchase for your loved ones, I'd really like to tell you about gifts you can give to YOURSELF! I have never seen bedding like the New Bedding by Veratex or the New Bedding by Triangle Home Fashions. These are some of the most beautiful comforter sets I've ever seen. And if you'd prefer Chenille & Matelasse Bedspreads, check out that link as well. The colors and selection are amazing.

This place offers far more than just bedding, too. You can also take advantage of their Slipcover Sale, their Table Runners and Place Mats, and even their Modern Stools and Chairs.

Just click any of the links in this blog and you'll be taken to the spots that sell the items.

And if you've ever wanted an Outdoor Fireplaces (perfect for this time of year and they are so beautiful), check out that selection. Gorgeous stuff. Too bad my daughter didn't know about this place when she was looking for a fire pit for her husband last Christmas.

OK, now for the "shopping for others" part of this blog (though I suppose you could purchase any of the items listed above for them too): If you have any sports fans, like Chicago Cubs or Chicago White Sox fans, check out their MLB Shower Curtain and Accessories. OK, I'm going to shop now – I mean stop now.

 Happy Shopping! You can thank me later.