I wish I knew the condition of the criminal

Today I had an appointment with a new doctor. It was the second time in one week that I have meet a new doctor which, considering I'm not a fan of meeting new doctors, falls under the THAT'S A LOT OF NEW DOCTORS category. 

I'll put you at ease right now by saying I have no intentions of telling you my entire medical history.

I should have known I was in for a long appointment when the nurse hooked me up to the blood pressure machine and oxygen monitor and suddenly every single light and beeper on the machine started going off. The nurse turned around and said, "You're blood pressure is pretty high." Yours probably would be too if you were hooked up to a machine that made it sound like you were about to explode. Last week I almost drive off a bridge and this week I almost explode. 

The nurse brought me into the exam room and started typing information into the computer. She sat there making a variety of odd noises before announcing that my condition was not listed in the computer system and she wasn't sure what to do. My "condition"? Let's not make it sound like I have an extra arm growing out of my chest. Suddenly it occurred to me that maybe I was at the wrong office. So I said, "Am I at the wrong office? I thought this was the was the office that deals with my 'condition'." The portion of me that houses my pride was relieved to hear that I was at the correct office. The new computer system was not up to par which made me wonder why they were using it to diagnose me and my condition.

The doctor decided to send me up to the second floor for blood work. Once up there I got lost. It was not a large floor. So that was slightly embarrassing.

I told the lab worker that people usually have trouble drawing blood so it would be best if she used a butterfly needle. She pushed my sleeve up and very matter of factly announced, "I can see why they have such a hard time! This is going to be difficult!" Such a reassuring woman.

I found my way off the second floor without problem and was in the car driving away when the nurse called me. The doctor needed another blood test. Rather than drive 45 minutes just for a blood test another day, I turned around and drove to the other lab at the hospital. I was sitting in the waiting room when Nurse Lisa came out and apologized profusely, saying there was a problem with which test needed to be done (of course there was!) and did I mind waiting? Until after lunch? It was 12:15. Could I wait until 1? She was so sorry. So very sorry. The doctor wasn't sure about something. (Based on a conversation I heard between the doctor and the nurse, I could have told Lisa that.) She didn't mind bringing me a cafeteria menu in case I was hungry. Or some coffee? It's free!

So there I sat. And sat. And then what to my bored eyes should behold but a criminal walking towards me escorted by two policemen! Things suddenly got very exciting. I secretly wanted them to sit next to me so I could get the scoop of the criminal. Unfortunately they waltzed (or stumbled, as the case may be) right in for his blood test so I wasn't able to find out anything more than he had obviously spent a very long time with some very large bottles of alcohol. Eventually the doctor and the lab lady were on the same page because my turn came as the criminal was hauled out. The nurse told me she didn't want to me have to "deal with" being in the same room as the criminal but I wish I could have been in there. Imagine the blog material!

I wish I could say I exited the hospital in a graceful and ladylike fashion but I can't. I bumped into a 'wet floor' sign.

Perhaps my condition is the inability to see large yellow signs when they're smack-dab in front of me.

I wouldn't go so far as to call them idiots because I may have done this myself a time or 12

(I had a real post planned for tonight but my scanner won't scan the document I was going to discuss and google was no help at all so that post went out the blogging window. That's how we ended up with this. It was in my "when you don't know what else to blog about" file. Also, it's funny. The end.)

rarely do I have a near-death experience so early in the morning

I almost died today. What's more, I almost took one of my favorite people with me.

How's that for a fun way to start this post off? 

I woke up at the crack of dark o'thirty this morning to drive Jenn to the airport. She left to visit her peeps in wine country and didn't offer to take me, but I'm trying not to feel offended. She does see me multiple times a week and who can say no when someone invites you to the west coast in the middle of January? Because despite what I firmly believed, temperatures in the south do indeed drop to freezing. When I went out to warm up the car, I found the whole parking lot and all the cars covered in a sheet of ice. 

Those last two sentences are very important to the following story.

Barely ten minutes after leaving my house we were drinking our Dunkin Donuts and just getting to the good conversation topics when WOOOOSH. We hit a terrible ice patch. We started sliding back and forth across all the lanes of the highway. It was so scary. What made it worse was we were ON A BRIDGE. If I could capitalize capital letters I would. How about this--- WE WERE ON A BRIDGE. Driving off a bridge is one of my very worst nightmares. 

Being from New England I pride myself in the ability to handle moderate to severe winter driving conditions, but in such a moment of panic all I could do was think "DON'T LET JENN DIE! HER HUSBAND WILL HATE YOU! DON'T LET JENN DIE! SHE HAS TWO BABIES WHO NEED HER! DON'T LET HER DIE!"

In case it is not evident, we both survived. Naturally the furthest thing on our minds was grabbing the camera to photograph what was possibly our last moments here on earth, so I created this illustration.

Please ignore the glaring errors. The sky wasn't orange, we weren't driving in an old fashioned yellow truck, and the bridge was at least 28 stories higher. 

Jenn's flight must have seemed nothing but a pure delight after that little ordeal. 

he was more of a full-on bonfire than a flame

Last night during supper, Mom, Elizabeth and I started discussing my old flames. (It was a conversation I'm sure Christopher was glad to miss.) There was Jonathan. I like him for years. There was Ben. He has the sweetest family and they all look the same so there was no question as to what our future children would look like.

Then there was Bernie. Bernie of the perfectly gelled hair. Bernie of the never wrinkled shirts. Bernie the grown up seventeen year old.

Around the summer I turned 12, Katie, my partner in all things and best of all friends, started attending another church. I moped around sadly and lonely for weeks. I could have played with the other kids (Telephone and Charades were all the rage), but they were all in their own established groups. After a while I started to notice Autumn. I had known her since she was born but hadn't spent much time with her because at a year and a half younger than me, she was just A CHILD. I decided she was the best option I had for a new second-best friend, so one day I pulled her into the nursery and whispered, "Don't you think Bernie is handsome?" ("Handsome" was the word we always used with him. He was never "cute".) She agreed that he most certainly was VERY handsome. And so a friendship based on no better options and an appreciation of Bernie was born. 

Together we started B.C.- the Bernie Club. Sometimes we called it B.C.C. but that doesn't make any sense since that means the Bernie Club Club. We talked about Bernie endlessly. We even nicknamed him Christiana so people wouldn't ask why we were talking about a boy so much. We made sure to sit within eyesight of him and each other during church so we could use our complicated finger signals to tell the other how Bernie was sitting and sit the same way. If I was the one sitting close Bernie and he crossed his right leg over his left, I'd cross my middle finger over my pointer finger. If his left leg crossed his right, my pointer finger would cross my middle finger. No signal meant both legs were uncrossed. Clearly we spent a great deal more time focusing on Bernie's legs than on the sermon.

Autumn came up with a special set of nicknames for him and his two brothers. His nickname was Wheat Bread, one brother was Cheese and the other was Turkey. If we said, "Let's ask your mom if we can have a sandwich today", it was code for "Ask your mom if she'll invite them over for dinner. And ask if I can come over too." 

Bernie never, ever showed any signs of appreciation for the hours we dedicated to studying him and his perfectly manicured hair. He was the reason we started using gel in our hair and the reason we started chewing gum on a very regular basis. Sometimes we'd "accidentally" be standing where he need to walk so he'd have no other choice but to say "excuse me". On VERY rare days (the days when we'd actually get our Wheat Bread sandwich), he'd talk to us and we would be OVER THE MOON. 

We decided the only way to properly celebrate him would be to give him a birthday gift. We sat in the fort of my swing set and carefully created a fish from orange and white beads. We wrapped it in tissue paper and placed it outside his car door. We knew from our diligent weeks spent stalking him  that immediately after church was done he'd go to the car and sit there until his family came out. We didn't have to worry about his mother (our future mother in law!) being the one to find it. We camped out in my van and waited. And waited. Finally he walked over to his car......................and stepped on the fish. Well. That was not part of our plan. After what seemed like YEARS, he picked up the package and took it inside his car to open it. He never said anything to us about it, but we heard through the grapevine that he thought it was "nice". All the other kids at church found out that we liked him and teased us endlessly, but we kept right on with our adoration. We never stopped to consider that we both liked the same person which could present some awkward moments in the the very rare chance he asked one of us out and not the other. 

A few months after the fish incident, Bernie's family moved. (Perhaps the fish incident was the last straw?) We were devastated. Just DISTRAUGHT that he would up and leave us like that. We eventually moved on to other hobbies and new men (I mean, I'm married to someone other than Bernie so if that isn't proof I've moved on I don't know what is), but without fail we talk about B.C. days very single time we're together. We crack ourselves up telling the same exact stories about what we would do to get his attention. Bernie has moved on too. He's married and lives in a far-off state with his pretty wife. (We know about the wife through Facebook stalking.) He didn't invite us to the wedding, but maybe he was afraid of getting another orange and white fish as a wedding gift.     

the super exciting, highly enviable weekend

This is Mom and Elizabeth's first/last/only weekend with me, so I wanted to make it a really exciting one. I lay in bed thinking of all the fun things we could do that they wouldn't have a chance to do back home. Here's the list I came up with:

* Take down the Christmas tree (I KNOW it's January 19th. I realize Christmas was last year and most people had their Christmas paraphernalia cleaned up by December 26th.. It's just that I've been too busy  unpacking luggage and visiting Walmart for the 5,683 time to pull ornaments off a fake tree. Besides, I get sentimental at Christmas tree taking down time and I like to prolong the sorrow.)

* Vacuum

* Dust
* Unload the dishwasher.

I know what you're thinking. You want to schedule a weekend with me ASAP. It will be the most fun you've had in months.

After we completed our chores had more fun than we could handle, I took them to a dusty old antique store to look for a shelf. We didn't find a shelf, but we did find some Greek "souvenirs". Greek souvenirs probably made in China but sold at a store in Tennessee. 

Elizabeth found a random leg standing around. We didn't buy it but in retrospect I wish we did. You never know when you could use an extra leg. I bet you could walk pretty fast with three legs.

Speaking of legs, we went for a walk and Elizabeth said she didn't think I couldn't jump over the post in the sidewalk. I used to do such things all the time but apparently she thinks my body has gotten too old for such feats of gymnastics. I told her to stand aside and photograph my post vaulting. I'd show her! I did it three times and each time she completely missed the jump. What she got was a picture of me looking like I was moving faster than the speed of light. Or maybe like I was drunk and trying not to fall over. I'm going with the first story.

Elizabeth and I decided to race at various points during the walk and I won every single time. Guess I'm don't need that third leg after all.

Uncle Sam would be a fan

We have so many extra patches for Christopher's uniforms hanging around that I've come up with a new use for them.

Meet my new bookmark.

I'm sure that's exactly how the Army intended it to be used.  

the long, long, long road home

You know what I did last weekend because I hadn't done it in so long? (Sarcasm alert!) I drove a couple thousand more miles down the east coast. I brought Mom and Elizabeth along for the ride. Elizabeth sat in the backseat and was as snug as a bug in a very tight rug.

The first day of the drive was uneventful. The second day we took a small detour so we could drive through the Smokey Mountains. We passed this building on the way to the visitor center. It's not every day you see a building that fell from the sky.  

Elizabeth wanted to go in “to use the bathroom” (she really just wanted to see the inside), but we said she couldn't just waltz into a museum and ask to use the restroom. Besides, using a restroom in an upside down building sounds slightly precarious to me.

The Smokey Mountains were really beautiful. We stopped at each and every scenic overlook to take pictures.

 At one point I felt the need to turn into a radio so I started serenading Mom and Elizabeth. What I meant to sing was On Top of Old Smokey. (COULD THERE BE A MORE APPROPRIATE TIME TO SING THAT SONG?) What I did sing was On Top of Spaghetti. My internal radio must have been set on the wrong station.

The ranger at the visitor center told us that the best way to see the mountains and get back on the highway was to drive 9 miles on a particular road then take a left. Between my spectacular singing and the beautiful views, the miles got away from us. After almost an hour I said that surely we had traveled 9 miles so I didn't understand why we hadn't seen the left yet.  That seemed like a potential problem. We stopped at a gas station to replenish our snack supply and see if anyone could tell us where we were.  Mom asked a woman for help and was told to go out to the gas pumps and yell for Bill. I stayed inside to pay for my snacks but pushed Elizabeth out the door behind Mom. I wanted someone there to protect her in case things with Bill got sketchy.  Also, there was the possibility that it might be awkward to be with Mom as she walked up to random people and asked if their name was Bill. Bill turned out to be a very helpful man. He informed us that we were on a Cherokee reservation and nowhere near the left we needed. We wanted to be in the upper left corner of the map, but we were in the lower right. Please keep in mind that I was in not in charge of the map during this trip. I was simply the chauffeur/personal radio/buyer of potato chips. For once we didn't get lost because of my lack of directional skilz. Not to throw Mom under the bus, but she was in charge of the map. 

As we left the gas station, Mom said Bill couldn't believe she didn't know where the local casino was. “It’s not like you visit casinos in Tennessee every day,” I said. That’s when Mom revealed that we were no longer in Tennessee. We were in North Carolina.

I almost drove off the road.

That’s how we found ourselves driving four hours on the same exact highway that we had already driven on earlier that afternoon. 

Two good things came out of our lengthy detour. One, Mom was able to fulfill her dream of seeing the Smokey Mountains. Two, we got so far off track that we were able to convince Elizabeth that we were in Texas.

I'm glad we had the four hour detour. It gave me time to come up with such a ridiculous story. 

nobody knows and I'm not about to tell

Based on the amount of chocolate I've consumed over the last three weeks,
I think it's safe to say the following is very true.

Then again, this has always been my motto.

Amen and amen.

it was the third biggest wedding of my life

Just last month Katie and I looked like this.

On Saturday this happened.

WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?

We got ready for the wedding in a tiny Sunday school room that was approximately -12 degrees. I brought the only mirror (Matron of Honor of the year!), so things were pretty cozy.

Abby was the definition of wedding fashion.

Katie and Zachary had 18 people in the wedding so things were always hopping.  I knew all the bridesmaids and half the groomsmen, but three groomsmen were especially interesting (translation: blog worthy). One groomsman named Randy answers to the nickname Poncho.  I could never remember his nickname so at different points throughout the weekend I managed to call him Taco, Rancho and Rango. I knew it was a Spanish name ending in O. It was only a matter of time before I called him Pablo.

The other two groomsmen were best friends who looked a little like a young Hugh Jackman and a young Matt Damon. They were so much fun. We couldn't rely on Katie and Zachary to kept us entertained (something about needing to look into the other’s eyes for 82  hours straight and forgetting about the rest of us), but Hugh and Matt (known as Ryan and Ben to people in the real world) kept things exciting. They confiscated the camera and occupied the little kids by taking self portraits.

Hugh and his wife Callie have the cutest little baby girl and they both agreed that I could take her home with me. There appears to have been some technical difficulty because they went back to Texas and didn't leave the baby. People are always saying I can have their baby then changing their minds at the last minute. I just don’t understand.

Jennie and I were the honorable ones- she was the maid of honor and I was the matron. I've always liked Jennie, but I never loved her more than when she said she’d give the speech at the reception so I didn't have to. 

Christopher couldn't go to the wedding (OH THE SADNESS), so Joanna was my stand-in husband. She did a good job but it wasn't like have the real thing. When Joanna left I looked around the room and found myself a new dance partner. He was happier about it than he looks.

I suppose it's only fitting at this point to include a picture of the groom.

I hope they can stop gazing at each other long enough to send me a postcard from their honeymoon.

three's a charm

It's only the third day of the year and I'm already behind schedule. I wasn't going to do a 2012 recap because this entire blog is a recap, but here I am, jumping on the year in review bandwagon.

It looks like the lucky number last year was 3.

I made three new friends who I love them SO MUCH. They're all smiles (except when Sam is grumpy which is 88% of the time), kissable cheeks and chubby thighs (I'm not talking about you, Jenn! I'm talking about Molly!), and chocolate. I really don't know why you're at this blog when you could be visiting them.

I turned 23 and spent the weekend in Washington DC.

I visited three presidential homes. I was not invited to 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. but hope springs eternal.

I lived in three new homes which meant three different living rooms and three different furniture sets.

I've veered slightly off the three path and attended four Army events worth noting. Attending the FRG treasure class is hardly worth mentioning.

I wonder if the prominent number for this year will be four. Maybe I'll have quadruplets. That would throw a little bit of crazy into things.