The Chaos Continues

     The general craziness of life around here continues. I've been dividing my time between finishing my position at the Buffalo VA hospital, and learning my new position at the Olean VA clinic. Which includes working through my vacation. That's okay though, as I have a lot to learn at the new position. The very first thing I learned was, I need to occasionaly be on video with various Doctors and medical personnel, and, my hair looked awful. Nothing like seeing oneself on live video camera, to make one want an immediate haircut, and swear to never ever touch a carb or starch ever again. I imagine this will be the best diet ever.

     To solve the hair problem, a desperate call to my hairdresser little sister was put in. Having my sister do my hair is a cross between happy memories bonding time, and the respectful terror one holds for a temperamental French Chef.
     Complete freedom with my (just past the shoulders) hair was given to my sister at her request, and, before I knew it, I could feel her scissors snipping away near my ears.
     "Mom! Are you getting the same haircut as me?!" gasps my buzz cut little George
     "Ahhh, heh heh! I don't know! It's a surprise!" I trill nervously, as my sister does all but threaten to stab me with her scissors. "I better not see ONE bad thing about this haircut on Facebook!" She threatens murderously. She never mentioned my Blog, however, and never reads it, so, I'm pretty safe here....
     In all reality, when she was done, I had very little hair, and a messy pixie cut, and I love it. I was yelled at at length, for not knowing immediately where my hair dryer was, and for not owning "Products", including mousse and gunk. So, those were provided. The gunk looks and smells like blue taffy, right before it hardens. And it does lovely spiky things to my hair. My older sister has announced she hates it, but, overall, I love it.

     Since this was supposed to be a vacation in Maine, and it just didn't happen this year, while I have been working, Bearded Man has decided to scrape the house! I totally did not see that coming. I think a definite color has been chosen, but I am not mentioning any wretched colors here. It will have to be a surprise, so that no one can tell me it is awful before it is on the house. And after, most people wouldn't say it out loud near me anyhow. Maybe, just maybe, the house will be painted before the Christmas decorations go up! The thought of Christmas however, is an entirely different set of panic, so, lets move on.

     Recently while at work, I received a message that George, age 3.5, had demanded his training wheels be taken off his bike. Within 10 minutes, I am told, he was riding like a pro, doing skids, jumping a ramp, riding around the block, and peddling while standing. Lord help me. He has already requested that the ramp be raised, has worn the tread off his back tire, due to skidding, and is practicing wheelies. I imagine I could easily become an alcoholic, or very religious, because of that child.

     School is getting ready to begin next week. In Franklinville, we have 2 schools. Pre-K through 6 in one school, and 7-12 across the road, in the other school. Kaila begins in "The Big" school this year. We recently had her orientation picnic there, and I had to drag her the entire walk over. She doesn't handle change well, and is completely convinced she will hate it. Her new teacher announced that he takes students to see Broadway shows at Shea's in Buffalo, so she is willing to give school a shot. But not happily.
       Poor kid. Sometimes, you have to just hide the heartbreaking sympathy, and be firm. I told her to stop carrying on, she would survive, chin up, and stop being so dramatic. And that she can always have a cup of tea when she gets home.
     George has a change coming up, as well! We needed to find a sitter to cover one hour every day. My kids have never ever gone to a sitter; we always had them come to our house. But, a girl I know around the corner watches kids, and has agreed to take George for that hour. He seemed okay about it, as we walked over. But suddenly, his little hand was in mine, and he whispers, "Is she nice, Mom?"

     "Of course she is nice!"

     "Okay."..................................... "But, what if she isn't?"

     "Oh, honey, she will always be nice! She is a very nice lady."

     "What if she doesn't like me?"

Insert immediate desire to quit every single job I now hold, and the strongest desire to stay home EVER. Things went well, he decided it was a good place to go, the toys met his standards, and there is another little boy his age. But, on the way home, there were tantrums and tears over nothing, all the way home. Poor kid. In reality, he will probably love it, and throw fits when he has to be walked back home every day....

     Honestly, I wish this could be more amusing etc etc. It has the flavor of one of those annoying pretentious Christmas newsletters, I think. Honestly, I am writing this at work after thinking it would be a splendid idea to drive from the VA in Olean, across the state to the VA in Buffalo, to pick up an extra shift. Truthfully, I am too tired to write anything remotely intelligent. Hopefully next week I can pound out a Blog that is somewhat fun to read.

     Have a great holiday weekend!
    

A Market for Roadkill.

     Last Sunday, we had the completely brilliant and inspired idea, that it would be FUN, to take the kids to church, followed by Jasin's Family picnic, followed by the Erie County Fair, (a Fair that is so big, that we have never ever dared take the children there before, because, before last Sunday, we obviously had brains.) followed by grocery shopping, followed by work first thing Monday morning.

     While at the Fair, Bearded Man took the kids through the Conservation building, while I wandered out to watch three young men hurtle themselves off of a platform and onto a small trampoline, while doing dangerous things that has probably caused no end cardiac issues for their poor mother, and they will probably have to go to hell for such thoughtless torture.
     Two of my offspring came running out of the Conservation building all excited and waving something. It seems that the Conservation people were giving away small pieces of fur to small children who matched animal parts correctly, or some such thing. And, I swear, all I could think, was that someone, someplace, was driving along the road, zoned out and listening to Country music, and noting all the road kill, and had a light bulb moment of inspiration, to put it to use. Waste not, want not, and all that. He probably had a beard, too.

     Since it's been awhile since I have been able to update this, I imagine something of note must have happened over the last few weeks. For instance, George has done a little investigating at church. And loudly announced the results very loudly in the middle of a quiet part during Mass: "See, Mom? I checked under the bench, since I was being bad, and, there are no monsters here, like you said there were!" followed by a rousing rendition of " 'Ol Red", the popular Blake Sheldon tune.
    
     My days at the Buffalo VA are winding down, faster than I want them to. Which means that I will no longer be part of the Peacock saga every night, on my drive home.
     As long as I can remember, there has been this place on Rt 16, that has had peacocks. Since I have started working in Buffalo, there has been a white peacock, that usually has the full fan open in all it's glory, on my way home from work.
     One night, I finally stopped, to get a better look. And I still cannot decide which I feel sorrier for. I think about it all the time, and I can see it from both sides. Because, there, in the corner, was this poor peahen, simply trying to do her thing, and peck at the ground or whatever it is they do, and there, hovering over her, was this giant peacock with the tail open and curving toward her. And he looked so desperate, as she ignored him. And this happens every night. He harasses her; she ignores him. It's pitiful. She just wants to be left alone, and he just wants to be noticed. Were they humans, there would totally be lots of dramatic Facebook statuses, and a restraining order. Probably some medications, and maybe some alcohol. It will probably never ever end. How exhausting.
    
  While completely sad about leaving the hospital, I have started to train at the new position. And am pleased to report, that there is a water cooler that has hot water. The fact that there can be tea is highly encouraging. I can deal with just about anything, with a decent cup of tea. There is a serious lack of accessible chocolate, but, I need to start training for the Mudderella, anyhow.

     Ah, the Mudderella. It came up on my Facebook, as a suggested page. After clicking on it, I decided that, 5-7 miles through mud and obstacles sounded fun. Seriously. Where the hell are my brains lately? So, I had the brilliant idea, that, before I could talk myself out of it, I should start a team. Beginning with my little sister. Then some girls I work with. And now, I am committed, and need to start training, because, less than 10 months is probably enough to make sure I will live through it, but probably not excel at it. And, if my old next door neighbor could run races while pregnant, and still look like a model, then, I can do this, too. (Seriously, the old next door neighbors were privately called "The Perfect People". They were quiet, and had model children, and all ate healthy, and looked healthy, and their gardens were perfect, and house was perfect, and I swear, it was like living next to a Disney story. If they weren't so darn nice, they would have been awful. If the people next door were a Disney story, then, that kinda made me one of the evil villains. Or, at least one of the inconsequential villagers, filled in with sub-par details, to make the back round up for fillers. Anyhow, they moved, and, in looking at their Facebook statuses, it looks like the fairy tale continues. I imagine woodland creatures follow them around their new country home.) Perfect neighbors aside, I have decided in a moment of insanity, that I need to get fit, and I need to commit to this, and I need to take others with me. (it's sort of a requirement, actually. If you don't show up with a partner, then you go stand over by a group of pitiful partner-less people, and buddy up with them. There could probably be an entire series of Blogs about that sort of social trauma.) And, since I now have the pressure of all these people expecting me to do more than cheer on the sidelines, while drinking Pepsi doctored with Captain Morgan, I have to get at it. I even bought a book about getting fit. And read it over TWIX bars. Because, I am all about baby steps. I signed up. I bought a book. I created a team. See? Progress! I have decided that I will start with my new job in Olean. Get up early, do the whole run/walk/bend over dry heaving and wheezing while neighborhood dogs bark at me, till their angry recently awoken owners yell at them, and curse at me. I have this whole plan. See? Another step.
     But then it will snow. And it will just be too awful to go for a nice relaxing run. So, maybe I should just wait till March, and give myself a solid 2 months to train. See? A backup plan! We will see how this goes. I honestly would like to give it a try.

     In other news, the Mormons have not come to scrape anything yet. It's back on the list of things to nag Bearded Man about. I think, judging by all the lumber in my driveway, that he must be a mis-placed logger. Sometimes he rearranges the wood piles, to make it look like he's making progress on the shed. It has a floor, and the skeleton of one wall up. But, he thinks maybe he needs a power air gun, to do the job properly now. It's okay though. Once this shed goes up, I have noticed that it is directly next to my lone kitchen window. My view will be a shed, and the neighbor's garage. I will take the natural light while I can get it. Someone suggested maybe hanging pleasant scenery pictures in the kitchen window, and back lighing them. This has possibilities. I could go anywhere, really. It could be educational for the children. We could spotlight different countries and cultures and landmarks, and learn all about them. It will improve their grades, IQ's, knowledge and culture awareness. I think I should buy Bearded Man an air gun. For the Children's sake.

     My truck and I are back on speaking terms. I recently spent an entire afternoon scrubbing it, vacuuming it, cleaning it, and shining it. When I was quite finished, I hooked the controls back up to the window, and Saints be Praised! THEY WORKED! As did the electrical system again. Obviously my truck is speaking to me again. I have decided it no longer needs to be shoved into a large body of water. Or set afire. Or replaced.

     Also of note, is that I have put up, to the tune of a lot of criticism, my fall decorations. Hear me out, people. First of all, reality check. It's cold out. The leaves are falling. The days are speeding up toward back to school, and I have yet to purchase so much as a pencil. Which will be followed by the panic of Christmas, which will feel like it's next week. So, I decided, since I had a day off, ambition, and burned out twinkle lights in my living room that needed to be changed (It is NOT acceptable to my psyche to have those lights in non working order.) it was time to just pull out my stuff and put it up while I was at it. And now it looks nice, and I don't have to deal with it later. Because, eventually my second job for weekends will kick in, and my spare time will consist of week day evenings. So. Fall stuff up, lights back to working, psyche intact, plans to exercise made, I am happy. Which means everyone in my household is happy. Criticize if you need to; but it may be the difference between George seeing the light of day, or basement time with the clowns....
    
    
    

Drug Testing

     Yesterday, I had to go get a drug test for one of the side jobs. I confuse myself sometimes, trying to keep track of these jobs and all the stuff that goes along with obtaining them, and where/when they are all located. I find, that if I don't think about it too hard, it is not hard to keep track. But if I actively try to keep track of it all, it gets confusing. So, like a complete flake, I float through it all, because if I think about it, I will need medication. Lots of it, I imagine.

      So, off I drive, WITH NO KIDS!!!!!! (Which immediately felt like a treat. There are probably other moms out there who would consider a child-less drug testing a mini vacation as well.) I encounter a very nice technician, who is very pleasant, until she asks me if I have ever had a drug test before. Without even THINKING about it, I announce "Oh yes! I've had lots of them!" Which does not convey 'Yes, I have been tested before, for various jobs, as I am in Nursing, and we tend to get tested at the start of every job, and then randomly, and I am completely on the up and up, and not some crazed druggie who is going to steal your family's pain medications, to feed my addiction.' No, this completely conveyed that 'Oh yeah, all my baby daddies insist that I get tested regularly, and stay on the wagon, or I am one test away from losing my child support and government benefits'. Vacation over. This lady was probably checking me for needle marks. It was something of a relief, to leave that particular vacation.

     On the 'Up' side, the lab was situated right off the driveway to Lowe's, so, since I was alone and childless, went in to check paint samples. And here, is where I am going directly to hell. Let's veer off course for a minute, as I explain about the Mormons.

     There are these very nice Mormon boys who wander over to the house every so often. I have very dear friends who are Mormon, so, I always talk to these boys, as they are friends of my friends. With the absolute clarification that I will stay Catholic, and they can stay Mormon, and we can all co-exist happily doing what we do. So, they kind of visit, I try to keep George from tormenting them too much, and then they go on their way.
     This past weekend, our Mormon friend's son was married, and we went to the wedding. Eric (The groom) had babysat for us, before going off to the Air Force, and we were all happy to see him home again, before he and his new wife head to Little Rock to live with the Air Force. And, while sitting there, the Mormon boys that visit wandered to our table. They inquired when it would be a good time to come over and visit, and I let them know that I will be working most of the time, so I really won't be home much. At which they asked what they could possibly do to make life easier for me. "What can we do?" They asked, "We are here to HELP people, and do stuff, and it's part of our mission!" They kept asking, and finally, without even thinking, I just burst out, "Well, the house needs scraped!" OMG. I am so going to hell. I immediately tried to retract that statement, as Bearded Man tried not to kick me under the table. I felt AWFUL. I cannot have these poor guys scraping my house! I feel like I would have to turn Mormon, to pay them back, and, while I LIKE my Mormon friends, I like being Catholic, and seriously, these are the types of things that land people in hell. If the sound of scraping did not sound like nails on a chalk board to me, I would have done it myself. (I tried, and it was bad. George tried, and announced he is still a kid, and doesn't have to do it yet.) Bearded man did enough scraping to make the house look haunted, announced it hurt his eyes to scrape when the sun was shining on the house (I did point out that there are 3 other sides, but, it didn't seem to make a difference.) Bearded man has announced he might need a power pressure washer and a heat gun, and that maybe it will get done next year. He has decided to build a shed, in the meantime. So, the driveway is full of assorted lumber. And fix tractors too, so, there is usually a tractor in the driveway, too. I tend to get severe angina now, when I look at my house. So, here I was, at the wedding, I have two guys begging me to put them to work, and I announced my house needs scraping. Now I wish I would have just bought some aspirin for the angina. What kind of person uses a missionary to scrape their house?!
     They took my number, and said they would think about getting a group of 4 of them together some weekend, to come over and help scrape the house.
     Thus, I ended up at Lowe's, to scope out more paint samples, on the off chance the Mormons show up. I think, that if I have to go to hell over house scraping, that I am going to have to be honor bound to haunt it some day.
    
     Since I am not in hell yet, life goes on. I recently had 6 days on a row off, and tried to enjoy them before all the crazy jobs kick in. We picked lots of blueberries, lots of peas, and lots of raspberries. It took awhile, but we shelled 11.5# of peas, and all of this is sitting in my freezer. I want to do a bushel of peaches, too. As soon as I get the freezer stocked, I imagine we will have a massive power outage. That's just the way things happen around here.
    
     While off, I finally made it to the Science Museum to go see the Body World Vital exhibit. For those of you that don't know what that is; it is actual bodies and organs plasticized, and then put on display, to show the various systems/organs/etc. Either you think it's the coolest thing ever, or, you think it's creepy, and wonder what the hell is wrong with people. I tend to think it's cool.
     When we arrived at the museum, the deal was, I would go thru the exhibit, while Bearded Man took the kids around the rest of the museum. We have a membership there, so the kids always know where they want to go, and what they want to see. Lexi decided last minute that she wanted to go thru the Body World thing with me. I hesitated, but, she really insisted, so, I agreed to take her thru.
     I cringed a little, because, the first thing we saw when entering, were plaster molds of male and female bodies, with not a whole lot left to the imagination. I had completely forgotten that these displays were certainly not clothed. Naked dead people everywhere. Oh dear. It was okay though, as Lexi seemed to roll with it, and I was able to completely narrate everything, and she had the most amazing anatomy lesson ever.

     Over here, you see the nerves. If you look, you can see how they are connected to the spine....
 
     Look at the spine, you can see where it forms a bowl for the brain...

     Here is the brain, and what it looks like. And here is one after a stroke. See the difference?

     The digestive system...

     Bladder, kidneys...

     If you look here, you can see how the ligaments connect the joints...

     Here are the tendons...

Anyway, Lexi got the whole body explained to her. It was awesome. It felt so amazing, to have one of my kids seem to want to see this, and be interested and not freaked out, and seem to really pick it up. This was just wonderful.
     As we were leaving, I overhear Lexi whisper to Kaila; "Kaila! I saw lots of boy parts, and lots of girl parts, everywhere!!!!!"

     "LEXI!!!! That's ALL you picked up thru that entire thing??!!!"

     "Well, I saw bladders and kidneys and stuff too."