Attack of the Killer Worms

Every once in a while a co-worker of mine comes up with some pretty entertaining stuff. Of course, the best part is that she acts sincere when she says it. Today, as we were discussing health issues in general (which is common considering our line of work) the topic of worms came up. Parasitic worms. With complete sincerity in her voice she informed me that everyone has worms.

"Tapeworms. We all have them! Round worms. They are in our bellies! Every person on the planet has em. You have worms, I have worms. We all have worms!"

I tried to explain to her that people with tapeworms and roundworm must go through special treatment to cure them and that if we all had those specific types of worms we'd all be on medicine. She didn't buy it.

"It's true. We all have worms. If you do a colon cleanse you'll shit a load of worms!"

O.o

Eventually the subject fizzled out and changed. But it made ponder: I know that we have bacteria and dust mites and all sorts of critters hanging out on us. But are there really sane people out there that believe we are walking around just chalk full of worms? Eeeewww!

Hrmm...

As soon as I had hung up with the credit card company this morning I called my DH to update him on the latest Michelle adventure. Shortly after I arrived at work he e-mailed me a link with all the local Michelle Mitchells on it, including addresses and phone numbers. As tempted as I am to really contact her I'm suddenly totally chicken! What do I say? "Hello. I have your old phone number and I just wanted to give you your messages for the last couple of years."

???

I'll sit here and plug away at my work and see if I can work up the nerve to call someone out of the blue like that. HA! Wouldn't she be surprised.

Someone's credit card isn't going to work for long...

*ring ring*

Ms.B: Hello?

Automated System: Hello. This is Discover Financial's Fraud Prevention department. Please stay on the line and a representative will be with you shortly.

Ms.B thinks: ... What the hell? I'm on hold? You called ME!

Automated System: Hello. This is Discover Financial's Fraud Prevention department. Please stay on the line and a representative will be with you shortly. (message begins to repeat over and over...)

Ms.B thinks: ... Wait, did they say fraud prevention?? Oh no! Someone has stolen my information and gone on a binge! I'll kill them. What is going on here?

Operator: Hi, this is Tammy. Can I please speak to Michelle Mitchell?

Ms.B thinks: MICHELLE? !! ??!@#$!@*!
Ms.B SAYS: My name isn't Michelle and I've had this phone for almost two years. Sorry.

Operator: I'm sorry. I'll take this number off the account.

*****

Odd. I'm normally rather annoyed at this point when Michelle's people call me. Today I just feel sad for her. Even her credit card company doesn't have her current phone number. I suppose she'll receive a wake-up call when she tries to make a purchase with her Discover Card in the near future and it has been deactivated to prevent further fraud. Ya know, now that I have her last name I should just search for her new number online, ring her and say: "Girl, your credit is about to bite the bullet. Contact Discover Card a.s.a.p. Oh, and by the way, call your mother!"


Ms.B

Glum weather, glum mood...

The annual February Cold that sweeps through work, wreaking havoc, making eyes puffy and voices gruff claimed a new victim this year. ME! Normally I have the stamina and immune system savy to avoid this nasty bugger. Do I get sick? Yes. But every other year I have managed to avoid this particular pain in the @$$. That it hit me the very week I began a second job is just kissmet. Luckily I managed to drag myself into both jobs with my "happy face" on and didn't let on how achey and tired I was. My voice managed to hang on until the weekend really began so all is well.

The rain that fell on Saturday and Sunday was a perfect reflection of how I was feeling. There were so many projects on the "to do" list this weekend. Little things that would tie up the last loose ends on some of the remodeling. Small starts for preparing for the next few rooms that need to be done. None of it was accomplished. Instead, I spent my time in my jammies laying in bed, sleeping soundly on my drooly pillow. When I did have energy I sat in my office chair at the computer, staring at the screen like a zombie. NeoPets was my entertainment. I must have been running around playing games for hours and I still haven't figured out how to get past level 1. Pretty sad considering that you can get all the way to level 250!

And now it is Monday. I'm at work and doing well, all things considered. I'll make it through the day, drive home, and have a personal "Poor Me" pity party (complete with icecream). By this time next week all my dreary thoughts and emotions will be forgotten.

I'm not a firm believer that time heals ALL wounds, but I know for a fact that it erases memories of pity parties.

Ms.B

I feel so... wanted

One of the many duties in my position at work includes being an Aide to the Speech Pathologist who works with our residents. There is no shiney frame holding a Speech Pathology diploma on my wall, rather my role is acting as the eyes and ears of the professional. Conveniently enough, my consultant also works at a nearby facility that is very similar to ours and this facility is always visited by the State Survey team prior to our own yearly survey.

This year, there was a lot of focus on dietary issues which is one of the areas that I, the Speech Aide, monitor. Both of our facilities have been doing a good job of ensuring that each resident is on the most appropriate texture of food. The issue that state has is that we need to be checking the residents on a regular basis to make sure that someone who has puree-textured food isn't able to eat ground food just as easily. The goal is that everyone be on the least restrictive diet possible. It's understandable that we should monitor this. When I am an 90 year old granny is a nursing home some day they better not be giving me mooshed up shit to eat if I am capable of gumming up regular food just fine. ACK!

My consultant has an easy "fix" for state's problem. We just have to document our efforts. In a matter of minutes, I created a form that we are now using for data collection on recent barrium swallow studies, doctor recommendations, and staff observations. If all goes well, the members of the survey team will think we are grand and we'll avoid being written out on that issue. The form I made is rather convenient. So convenient, in fact, that my consultant wanted a copy to use at the other facility as well.

During our meeting yesterday, she mentioned needing some assistance at that facility due to the staff there being slightly less than helpful. (Those are my nice words, she was less appreciative of them though she remained completely professional in her demeanor as we spoke.) She asked if I would be interested in a second job over there. I admitted that the money might be really useful since we are wanting to do some additional re-modeling to the Haven in the near future. The idea of being able to easily afford to re-carpet the small bedroom and basement Hallway is very appealing to me. The fence around the back-yard also needs some attention in the near future. Perhaps this other job could be very beneficial. So I told my consultant, (I'll call her Mrs. Rich), that I might be interested and to let me know exactly what would be expected of me. I anticipated that she would fill me in at our meeting the following week.

No sooner had I sat down at my desk this morning when I received a phone call from Mrs. Rich telling me all about the hours expected and what I'd need to do. She asked if I could call the administrator of the other facility and arrange to start as soon as possible.

!!! ??? AHHH!

I asked Mrs. Rich for the phone number and told her I'd be in touch. I've not called yet, but I did phone DH and ask him if he thought it was a good idea. A second job isn't a smart move if you don't have the support of your spouse. The mention of extra cash for the carpet and fence seemed a good temptation for him as well and since he sleeps during the day and the second job would also provide extra snoozing for him before I arrived home each evening, I suppose it wasn't too hard to twist his arm. I am now procrastinating the call and blogging instead. It's not that I don't want the job. It's a great opportunity. I just want to be sure I'm not losing my marbles. Am I too lazy to work a 10 hour day multiple times a week? I have friends who work 16 hours, 6 days a week, or more. Of course, they are insane so I hate to compare myself to them.

What the heck, why not go for it? I can always quit if it becomes too much. I just need to be sure to talk to my boss here so he doesn't find out I'm working at the other place through the grapevine. I am not sure why, but the two buildings are very competitive and Mrs. Rich told me that there is a good chance that the other place is most likely going to try to steal me. I can't imagine them matching what I make at my wonderful job, and even if they did, I have been here long enough that I earn quite a bit of vacation a year and as a management staff, I also have perks with regards to sick pay. I must make sure my boss knows where my loyalties lie.

And then I'll sit back and enjoy the attempts of the other administrator. It's always nice to feel wanted. Now where the hell did I put that phone number?


Ms.B

Haven's Flaw

I have found the only flaw in my Haven. It isn't located in the tropics. The night before last I had a most wonderful dream about a new home I had just purchased that was in a sea-side town in the world of Dream Land. I can't remember details about the house. Just faint memories that my DH and the critters were there, that we were settled and everyone was content. As I stood on the beautiful veranda and looked out at the view I felt supreme satisfaction. As if all my dreams had finally come true. I awoke with a start to find myself in my cute, comfortable Haven here in the middle of the mountains. To say I am unsatisfied with mountains is a large over-exaggeration, however the memory of that satisfied feeling from my dream keeps haunting me.

Ms.B

Little Einstien

Day 2 of Puppy Class was this past Saturday and I must take a moment to gush about how smart my monkey is. There were a few less puppies and their hoomans in attendance. I guess we're going to eventually weed out the pet owners who aren't as motivated to make the extra effort. Sunny was there and the two chihua.. chiwa... taco bell dogs as well. The evil Toto dogs and the mixed shelter rescue and her 7 people didn't show. Though I support the training of all dogs (whether formal or not), I confess I was glad to have a smaller class. It made for fewer distractions and better results. The lesson for week 2 of puppy class was "Down", as in Lay Down. Though still a work in progress, Gus is picking it up very quickly. He does it even if treats are not involved and though his appropriate response is still hit and miss, I think he's got it. The main barrier is his puppy brain and the inability to get him to "focus focus focus". Once we actually have his attention, he's a super star. We have a break next Saturday while our trainer, Jessica, has some minor surgery. The goal for 2 weeks from now is for Gus to master “sit” and “down” and for his mommy to learn how to successfully spell the word “Chihuahua.”

******

Legal at Last

Gus and Chloe went and got licensed on Saturday. There were no complications with the process, they behaved themselves decently amidst all the excitement, and we only had to pay $5 for each dog. Of course, I forgot to mention exactly WHEN we had moved. And I didn't exactly mention WHEN I had rescued Chloe from her old family. Had they asked, I'd have been honest. In this case, silence was the best policy.

Ms.B pats her hair to make sure it is still covering her devil horns

It's nice to have everything taken care of regarding the dogs. Now, if one of them runs off we'll be able to get them back much more easily. They are both micro chipped and we've taken the necessary steps to avoid any fees. They even have their shiny new "I'm Legal" tags attached to the harnesses they wear when walking. Of course, there is always Granny Dog to factor in to the picture. If she were to run off we'd be in trouble since:

A) She's not licensed
B) She's a third dog in our home and we're only supposed to have 2 (!!)
C) We've kept her in the house and the back yard since we've had her so most people don't know she's ours.

She does have a tag on her collar with our number on it so hopefully if she does manage to spy-tech her way to freedom, a good samaritan will find her and just give us a call. Let us all hope and pray that she decides her old bones should just stick around the Haven and not seek adventure.


Ms.B

And the #1 most embarassing reason for leaving work early is:

Today, during my lunch break at work, I ate a microwave spaghetti dinner. Normally this wouldn't be an overly dramatic event, however I had my gall bladder removed a few years back and now my digestive abilities aren't quite what they used to be. A short while after I had finished my food, the familiar rumbling and gurgling in my stomach began. Normally, the sharp pains and throbs associated with my inability to digest worth a damn are relieved by going to the bathroom and unleashing a nice strong fart. Today, I didn't feel that a trip to the bathroom was in order. Big mistake. I double checked that I was alone in the office, unleashed my gas... and shit my pants!

The horror! The humiliation!! With hands over my ass crack, I ran to the restroom only to find that in addition to having created a stinky racing stripe in my undies, I had also started my "lady curse".

What the !@#$%*#!

In a prior post I shared my infertility woes. I wasn't totally caught unprepared by the news that I am unable to have a child. I've never had a regular cycle. I was NOT prepared to be bleeding at work. I didn't have any supplies on hand and was forced to purchase a cheap pad from the bathroom vending machine. Most unfortunate was the fact that I was not wearing normal "tight girlie" panties that would hold the pad close to my nether regions. No sooner had I stood up from the porcelain throne to zip up my jeans when the darn thing twisted itself around and stuck itself to all my sensitive little hairs "down there". Any woman who has experienced this situation before just slammed their knees together after reading the previous sentence, it feels that good.

It didn't take me long to figure out that I needed to leave work early to take care of the situation. Embarrassingly enough, my boss is a man. A large, burly man. I had to take him aside and explain the whole situation to him. (!!!) I confess I omitted the part about sharting my pants. The mere mention of me having bled all over my undies was already enough for him to throw up his arms in a "get away from me" motion and walk away while telling me to go home. Good thing I erred on the side of caution. sigh

Ms.B

I'm starting to understand...

why people disregard the animal control laws in my state. DH and I recently moved a mere 10 miles away from our old location. We crossed a city line in the process and now our dogs are no longer licensed. The shock! The horror! So, in order to be a good little doggie owner, I called up the nearest animal control location to find out what I needed to do to get back in compliance. Alas, by moving across the city line, I was no longer supposed to license them at the place I called (which is a mile down the road). Instead, I have to drive 15 miles (!!) to the proper location. I have to take proof of sterilization, rabbies shot & since the monkey and wiener both have a microchip, I need the actual dogs as well so they can scan them and get the chip i.d. number. And since we moved a couple of months ago and didn't do this all within the 30 day time limit they wanted me to do it in, we will probably have to pay a higher licensing fee for the wiener. sigh It would be so much easier to just have the dogs illegally in our home and forget all about this whole "compliance with the law" business. Seriously now. No wonder there are so many iresponsible owners. If I wasn't such a poosy, I'd say "To hell with it." Alas, I suffer from guilt and will have to make the special trip on Saturday to get everything put right. Of course, I might just have to fib a bit about when we moved so that I don't have to pay an extra fee for waiting to register Chloe. I mean, heck, I need that money more than the state does, right? RIGHT?!? ....Right.

.........

Our second Puppy Class is this weekend. Gus was a super star the first day. I can already tell which dogs in the class will do well and which are going to be very naughty. There is a terrier (think Toto in Wizard of Oz) that is a little demon! He reminds me of my wiener, he is that naughty. Maybe even worse! I hope we don't end up sitting next to him in any future classes or Gus won't learn anything but evasive maneuvers. If we are lucky, we'll continue to sit next to Sunny, a sweet golden retriver puppy who has good energy. She doens't evoke the "Don Juan" in Gus that the little dachshie did a few weeks ago, but she's a sweetie just the same.

Reality Check

I've come to the realization that it is much easier and more enjoyable to blog about silly, insignificant occurrences than to write about the serious side of life. The Haven Blog is still in its infancy, but I enjoy having an outlet for my thoughts and emotions, as silly as they may be. I sit down each day and just pour out all my goofy ideas and stories and when I am done, I feel like I've accomplished something. It matters not that I am one of only 2 or 3 people who knows this Blog exists... I'm not writing it for anyone but myself anyway. For literary genius in blog form there are other blogs that are much more enjoyable.

Today it is time for a serious post. My DH isn't doing well. Don't get me wrong, its not like he has one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel or anything but he's having some health problems. Tuesday night at 9:30 DH became so ill that he threw up. The difference between Tuesday and about a dozen or so other nights at around 9:30 (Don't even ask me to begin explaining why he is always sick at 9:30 and ONLY 9:30.) is that there was blood in his vomit this time. He called the Insta-Care near our home and they told him that he should go to the Emergency Room.

Two hours later we were in a room at the E.R. of the local hospital. DH had an I.V. in his arm and they were pumping him full of drugs. To check his stomach for a bleed, they had to stick a large tube down his nose into his stomach. I won't even begin to attempt to describe the discomfort that the tube caused my poor sweet man. For one, I didn't experience it. And if I went by HIS description, I'd have to use a lot of four-letter words which could be offensive to any reader who randomly surfs onto this Blog.

In the end, they decided the bleeding wasn't too bad, pulled the nasty tube out, gave us a prescription for drugs and sent us on our way. The discharge papers stated that he has a peptic ulcer.

He slept for quite a while after we got home and seemed semi-better in the afternoon when we went to get his medicine. That evening (talk about timing!) my parents showed up at our house with their old bedroom furniture which they've been so kind to give us. DH and my Daddy spent an hour moving our old bed set upstairs into the guest room and the new bed, dresser, hutch and matching bed-side tables into our bedroom. My mother and I ran around doing our best to look like we were trying to help. Now he has a nice king sized bed to do his resting in so I hope he feels better. In an attempt to help his stress levels go down, he has withdrawn from his classes at the University and is taking the semester off. Hopefully we will get him back up to snuff so he'll be rearing and ready to go for the summer courses. My work was kind enough to let me take some time off to get the prescriptions filled and pick up the food/drink items that the nurse had recommended.

I need to be a good little wife and come up with some clever, non-stressful ways I can spoil my poor darling. My sweetie pie. My delicate little flower. My best friend.

Like a Weed

After watching the old video footage of Monkey and Wiener the other day, it occured to me just how large Gus has become. I fear that by the time he's done growing, it will be hard to even pick him up. And to think I used to hold him in the palm of my hand...




Ms.B

October 2006

Film debut of Ms. Wiener and the Monkey.




Ms.B