It's a sign.

"Excuse me, where is the lab?"

[Ooo, I love that tone! The combination of querulous demand and I'm-so-abused whine is fabulous.]

Well...that would be right here. Yes. Here. Uh huh. Right where the sign directs you. Here. HERE. Yes, you found it! Yay, you!







"Now I need an X-ray."

Why, yes. Yes, you do. Conveniently, the lab and X-ray departments are so darn close, they even share signage. It's super, isn't it? See, look! X-ray! Right next to the lab.






[yelling outside the lab, in the lab/X-ray waiting area]

"Hello! Hello!"



Yes, may I help you?

"Well [that snotty sound 14 year old girls make so well] I have to have THIS done and I don't know what I'm supposed to do!" [waves order slip]

Well...let's take this one step at a time. First, stop yelling at me. No. Really. Stop yelling at me. Second, let's look at this sign here. Now, this is your order slip. It should be placed in the order holder. Then we usually have you ring the bell. That's how we know you're here!




[14 year old girl sound again]
"I didn't see a bell."

Oh, okay. This is the bell, the glowy thing with the label. Marked "bell." If you ring this, we come running out to you! [big, almost sincere, helpful smile]

[patient reaches toward glowy thing marked "bell"]

Oh, no! You don't have to do that now! I see you! If you have to come here again, you'll know exactly what to do. Is that nice?
.....................................................................................................................................................................

[post diagnostic testing care]

"Excuse me, where do I go now? They said I'm supposed to go to the waiting room when I was done here."

Hmm. Well, what I would do is head this direction. Toward the waiting room. Yes. This way. This way here. Yes, exactly! Okay! Thank you! I hope you feel better soon! Bye-bye!






I kid you not.

WHY do I do this?

Why do I stay up until 2AM when I need to be up by 6AM? What kind of doltish behavior creates a mindset that it's perfectly okay to run on four hours of sleep?

Not that I run, you know. Yes, you do know, don't you? I hate breaking a saunter. Oh, I can stroll, should the need arise, but run? I think not.

I have friends who do this on a regular basis. No, really, they do. They function on four hours of sleep. What? Ohhh. You weren't questioning their ability to operate on very little sleep, you were casting doubt on my having friends. Mean. Just mean.

Now that you've had your little sniggering laugh, may we move on? Thank you.

I know people who consider four hours of sleep a LUXURY, fer chrissakes. Strangely, most of those people are in the military. Now, if I were armed, I would think a little extra sleep would be in order. But perhaps this is why I am not armed.

I am less patient when I am tired, not that I am overburdened with patience to begin with. My filters are less firmly attached. I have an odd tendency to make growly noises, which I'm doing right now. [grrr...grrr....]

I think I need a nap. Grrrr.

Useful Travel Website

http://www.youswear.com/

Now, this would have been good to have discovered before traveling overseas. Think of it! Before visiting the unbelievably beautiful city of Stockholm, I could have learned a little more of what the natives were saying!

Actually, I did try to learn some Swedish before I left, much to the indulgent amusement of my Swedish friend.

No, he's really Swedish. Blonde. Seriously hot. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay out of my league. So far out of my league, I don't even know the name of his league. I'm not entirely certain where the games are even held. There might be uniforms. I'm not sure.

Anyway.

My Swedish friend told me, not unkindly, that trying to learn Swedish was probably not the best use of my time, as there was almost no way I'd get the vowels right. I'd sound like I was talking baby-talk to the Swedes. Amusing, sure. But useful? Not so much.

I tried anyway. And I walked up to a ticket window outside a beautiful tourist attraction in this phenomenal city and said, "Hej." This, I was told, is "hello" in Swedish. The young woman blinked and said,

"May I help you?"

in clear, perfect English.

I sighed and asked her, "What gave me away? Because I listened to the tapes. I think I sounded pretty good." She nodded to the small book I held. "Well, the Stockholm guide in English was a clue."

Dammit. I should have started with a good curse word!

Roommate and I were watching the Calgary Flames play the Columbus Blue Jackets and I said, "When we travel to every city that has an NHL team and watch them play on home ice, I'm going to be nervous in this place."

You see, the Scotiabank Saddledome, home of the Calgary Flames, utilizes pyrotechnics to celebrate goals. Yes. Great shooting masses of fire.

This seems...a trifle unsafe. I'm just saying.

Roommate nodded then asked,

"When are we doing that again? Because I'm going to need to take time off work."

[snicker]

Yes. Very true. I'm just saying.

A day off

Okay, I'm not blogging today. I know, I know. But it's a day! No one is going to die, fer chrissakes. I'm sitting on the couch, hanging with the dogs, working on the WIP. A Very Nice Person is coming into town tonight. We're going to dinner. No, I have no idea what I'll be wearing. Or if I'll be doing something with my hair. Or makeup. Or...

You know, I really suck at this.

So I'm not blogging today. Maybe tomorrow.

Did...did I just blog?

Mom! What are YOU doing here?

My theory is this:

My mother's influence is freaking everywhere. No, seriously. You don't believe me?

When I signed up for eSchmarmony, yea, those many moons ago, I was encouraged to set reasonable restrictions on my matches, one being the physical distance between my match and me. This did seemed reasonable. After all, I'd just broken up with/been dumped by a man who lived 781 miles away from me, and the biggest part of the problem between us, he whined, was my unwillingness to move there and be with him. Selfish cow that I am.

Strangely enough, most of my relationships have included some physical distance. I'm not entirely sure what this says about me, but with some serious self-analysis, I'm sure I can come up with something. [Note to self: serious thought, next week.]

The people at eSchmarmony really tried to follow my requirements. Almost all of my matches live within a 120-mile radius. Then today, all of a sudden, I received my daily barrage of matches [AKA Guys Who Will Not Reply To My Guided Communication Attempts] and every single [ha!] one of them...was from Spokane.

That's right. SPOKANE. The Hub of the Inland Empire. The location of the Bloomsday race. Center of the Lilac Festival. And....home to my parents. Esther's place.

Mom has been trying to get me to move back to Spokane for decades, darlingest. The list of bribes included college, a car, a house, a job, a PUPPY. That's right. She is ruthless, I tell you. Completely devoid of ruth. And now, despite her inability to operate a DVD player [no, I'm not kidding] Mom has evidently manipulated the computer files of eSchmarmony.

I feel an unwilling respect for her right now. Damn it.

You know...

Every time I type those words, I think of Gluten-Free Jen's dog.

No, no. Follow me on this.

GF Jen has a poodle-Maltese mix named Juno. He was named after Juneau, Alaska; the spelling was just changed a bit. No, he's not a Roman goddess. He's just a little dog.

During a recent trip to the family lake place, I was blessed to have GF Jen and her family visit, and naturally, Juno came along. Somewhere along the line, I decided that Juno spoke with an accent. And that he started every sentence with the words "you know."

"Joo nooooo..." he would say. "I....am joost a leetle dog. I....cannot reach ze coooookie jar."

Fortunately, this did not have a negative impact on Juno's self-esteem.

"Joo nooooo..." he would say. "I....am ze handsomest boy in ze world. Aaaaaallll ze ladies want to keeess me. I....joost have no boy parts to make zem happeeee...." This was always followed by a vaguely accusing look.

I think, if Juno had received the phone calls and emails I have, he'd have something to say.

"Joo nooooooo..." he would say. "Thees is joost a leetle blog. It ees not even zat goood."

Thanks, Juno. Couldn't have said it better.