Perhaps you'd like my firstborn child, also.

I just got my schedule for the accelerated year of nursing school. They want my paperwork, proof of vaccinations, proof of CPR certification, and my soul sealed up and mailed back by August.

Think trimesters. Roughly 21 hours each. Two days off in October, two days for Thanksgiving, slightly over a week for Christmas. Four days for spring break. Four days for "intersemester break."

And THEN - August 8th, 2009. Pinning ceremony, and I'm FREE. Let the countdown begin.

A touch of random

It may be because it's 6 a.m., but this struck me as absolutely hilarious. It's a described as a "Portable Lunch Box Stove that plugs into your car's cigarette lighter! Now you can enjoy a hot lunch anywhere, anytime by using koolatron 12 Volt Lunch Box Stove! The Koolatron 12V Lunch Box Stove delivers what you've been waiting for - a hot lunch while you're on the road without stopping for a questionable roadside meal! You can cook your food at home and bring it with you on the road along with the Koolatron Lunch Box Stove for a home cooked meal anytime!"

Emphasis on "questionable roadside meal" is mine. Mainly because I suspect that anything that you could cook with this thing would probably be more questionable than something you'd be able to buy on the road.

Speaking of lunch, and questionable, has anyone ever heard of hotdog fishin' as a lunch idea? No? Prepare to be enlightened. And grossed out. (My comments in parenthesis.)

The description below was contributed by: Ruth Bartley on Oct 10, 2000 12:41:59AM (Ruth, did you actually make this for your children? If so, are they still speaking to you?)

Recipe Rating (Four stars as compared to WHAT? Sending your kid to school with a can of catfood?)

Estimated time to complete recipe: 10 min. Description of lunch box recipe: Lunch in a Thermos. Directions: Cook the hot dog, warm the soup of the child's choice. Tie a string around the hot dog, place it in the soup that you have put in the Thermos. (Can't you just see yourself in your bathrobe, sipping coffee, tying string on hotdogs for all the kiddos?) Make sure that you keep enough of the string to place it on the outside when you put the stopper in. Place the bun in a baggie for the hot dog. Your child now has a hot lunch!! (Junior high's not hard enough - make it better by forcing little Johnny to fish his lunch out of a thermos. Definitely beats cutting the crusts off of a PB&J and writing a loving note on a napkin.) Other suggestions and comments: This is great with tomato soup for the children that like ketchup on their hot dogs. All of mine love this. If you microwave the hot dogs, they taste just like you fixed them on the grill, and it only takes a minute. (A minute for lunch - a lifetime of terrible memories for your child!)

Unleashed

Tonight I was presented with an unexpected Friday night off, and thought it would be as good a time as any to renew my faltering relationship with my gym. I'm extra-motivated now, because we leave for Peru in approximately 55 days, and while I know the group that I'm going with has a lot of love for me, I'm not sure they'll maintain that same level of love if they have to carry my panting self up the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu.

I was sweating away on the Stairmaster when I noticed one of trainers incorporating a new technique. He had strapped his client into a weighted vest and had essentially leashed her to him using a resistance band. She was running in front of him (or trying to) while he walked the opposite way behind her, pulling back against her as hard as he could.

I will happily walk on the incline trainer wearing my weighted backpack. I will not complain about doing squats on the Bosu ball. I will hum along with my iPod while alternating lunges with sprints. But the second my trainer attempts to introduce a leash into my program...I'm out.

...And then I did not get carjacked.

There have been a few carjackings on and around campus lately. Not your average, friendly, get-outta-the-car-or-I'll-hit-you-with-this-crowbar carjackings, either - no, these have involved real, actual guns. Campus security has been sending out e-mails, everyone is supposed to be extra-vigilant, yadi yadi. So you may understand why I'm a teensy bit paranoid.

Tonight after class, I walked out to my car, got in, started it up, and started to drive off. Then I heard a sharp, metallic "tappa-tappa-tappa-tappa" from the passenger side. Gulp. I slowly looked over. Nothing. I checked the back seat. Nothing. I made sure the doors were locked. (They were.) I started the journey home again, a bit more quickly this time.

More tapping, more urgent - "Tappatappatappatappatappa!"

Me, mentally - "I'm-so-sorry-sir-if-you-want-my-four-door-mom-car-with-the-factory-speakers-
here-go-ahead-and-take-it!!!"

I proverbially screeched to an actual halt. This set off a "TAPPATAPPATAPPATAPPATAPPATAPPA!"

At this point, I realized what it was. Ice from the beverage I'd had earlier was clinking against the side of my shiny new travel mug that I'd stuck in the cupholder on the passenger side. It was chilly enough to keep all of the ice from melting...but warm enough that my drink hadn't frozen solid, for the first time in several months.

To-dos: drop paranoia. Clean out car.

Did I stop too soon?

This post was partially inspired by the following conversation with my mom:

Mom: "What mascara are you using now?"

Me: "I dunno...I never remember the names of them. Partly because they're always named Super Triple Extra-Length Amazing Volume Stupendosity, or something like that."

But seriously - maybe I gave up on copywriting too soon. Maybe instead of writing ads for tractors, I should have gotten a job just naming stuff. Which made me think of Mitch Hedberg's take on this:

“I want to get a job as someone who names kitchen appliances. Toaster, refrigerator, blender.... all you do is say what the shit does, and add "er". I wanna work for the Kitchen Appliance Naming Institute. Hey, what does that do? It keeps shit fresh. Well, that's a fresher....I'm going on break.”

Yeah. That job would be perfect.

Me-OW

This is kind of how I feel right now. I am NOT going to get sick again. To do today:

1. Down another gallon of OJ. (Yes, that does imply that I have already downed one gallon of it...delicious!)

2. Take a nap.

3. Intermix napping and OJ with oil of oregano, that magical, natural, anti-microbial elixir.

P.S. To the girl in my class who left her lungs on the desk behind me Wednesday - it's NURSING school. No one will be mad if you're sick and skip class. In fact, we will applaud you.

Tainted Love

If I were describing a dating relationship, you would tell me to get out now. You see, we take each other for granted. One of us leaves, or we tell the other one to leave. I've ended it twice. And both times, I've gone back, asking for another chance. Not only does this relationship leave me physically sore, and feeling somewhat soulless, it also controls what I wear and who I spend time with.

I'm talking about my relationship with...The Cheesecake Factory.

I've gotten new jobs twice. The first time, I didn't even start. The shirts at New Job Number One had a rhinestone logo, and the place reeked of cigarette smoke and meat. (It wasn't a frat bar. It was a steak place in Leawood.)

I actually started New Job Number Two, but quit three days in, after:

1. Spending eight hours a day in training without sufficiently going over table numbers or the menu.
2. Being asked to serve a lunch shift while being followed by a trainer without sufficiently going over table numbers or a menu.
3. Being asked to spend several hours at night memorizing asinine facts about the menu, including all fourteen ingredients in the chicken salad. (Which, if you're curious, are dijon mustard, yellow mustard, salt, pepper, basil, oregano, red onion, green onion, worcestershire sauce, garlic, parsley, and red wine vinegar, apples, and walnuts. I would assume there's also some chicken in there somewhere.) You may assume that this would constitute going over the menu, but (perhaps not surprisingly) people usually don't ask how many ounces of dijon mustard are in the chicken salad.
4. Coming to the realization that there appeared to be only one other female who served in the restaurant.
5. Being told that women usually didn't make it at that particular restaurant.
6. Being told that we were not allowed to request time off but instead were responsible for finding someone to cover our shifts.
7. Having a phone conversation after the third day wherein the other party stated that at least I hadn't fallen on my face. I remembered after this comment that no, while I had not fallen on my face, I had slipped on the kitchen floor and managed to bruise both knees, my right elbow, and my right glute. (Don't ask.) Thing is, I had completely forgotten about falling because it was not actually the worst part of the day.

So anyway. Here I am. Still at the Cheese. One day, I hope to break the cycle. For now, I will continue to wear white pants, and be sure my guests realize the tea is a mango flavor. Did anyone save room for dessert?