I need new hair.
How does that apply to you?
Unless, of course, you want it to.
And to you select group of lovelies who want it to apply to you, I need your help:
My hair is long, boring, and blah. I need a boost. And, no, I'm not talking about a bump-it or anything else Utah white-trash (no offense).
I'm thinking a couple inches off with a sick fringe. But I'm afraid bangs will look lame or...lame.
Tell you what:
If enough people participate (which probably won't happen) I'll put up a poll and the look that gets the most votes will get done. And no being ridiculous. I drawn the line at a pixie cut or mullet.
p.s. pics are appreciated.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Does anyone own a blow-up mattress or some sort of sleeping device that I can borrow for a few days in the first week of March?
My oldest sister is coming to visit and I feel bad having her sleep on the couch all week.
It would be gratefully returned in the same condition it was borrowed with the addition of your choice of a fresh loaf of homemade cookies for whole wheat bread.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
My week has been epic. A lot of sacrifice and late nights were put into it to make it epic, but it was very, very epic.
Why was it epic?
I scrubbed in on multiple surgeries in the OR at EIRMC.
What did I get to do?
For a TAH-BSO (taking out of the uterus, ovaries, and fallopian tubes), I stood directly next to the surgeon, gown and all, held his suction and had my hand in the woman's gut to palpate her uterus and feel for fibroids.
For a laparoscopic procedure (the kind with the metal tubes stuck into the inflated abdomen with a camera inside and the surgeon did not have an assistant, only a scrub tech to hand him instruments.
What was he going to do?--I'll tell you what:
use the student.
I got to use the instrument with the grasping end and wield it while grabbing organs and tissue out of the way so the surgeon could cut and cauterize. I GRASPED THE OVARIES, BLADDER, AND MULTIPLE TISSUES IN A WOMAN'S BODY. And yes, it was all by myself. It was kind of like playing a video game, except way more intense and way more worthwhile.
Amongst other things, I also saw a woman's lymph node the size of a golf ball removed from her neck, multiple hernia repairs, D&C's, and a lap chole.
It was a good week.
One for the ages.
I felt like Izzie Stevens from Grey's Anatomy.
Except not blonde, or ex-Mormon.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Today's Amber Bagley's Birthday! I'm a little late in the day, but you all still have time to call/stop by/text to wish her for the rest of the day a very happy birthday! I love this girl. She is beautiful, smart, athletic, charitable, Christ-like, compassionate, trustworthy, reliable, funny (like, really funny), self-less, a really chic dresser, preggo, and epitomizes best friend material for everyone she meets. Every time I see Amber I wish I was more like her.
We Love You, Amber! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
We Love You, Amber! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!
Friday, February 5, 2010
I miss New York. It's my home. I miss $1 slices of real pizza, delicious old school bakeries, H&M's on every corner, and the hype you get walking from each street being different from the next.
I miss diversity of thought, action, and story. I miss Broadway shows, late night dance parties with Briana, and yes, even the bums in the subways begging for change.
It's its own world.
In a 1 mile radius you can meet someone from Iraq, Russia, Brazil, or Japan. Everyone has their own methods of fighting for survival and each is beautiful and unique in its own way. The amputee that shuffles down the subway cars by his arms and carrying his change bucket in between what is left of his legs, the small florists that sell single flowers for next to nothing, and the filthy-rich billionaire that went from rags to riches from sheer motivation each make this prestigious jungle inspiring.
You don't have to be Mormon to be a good person and people appreciate kindness, not expect it.
I know what you're saying: You're over exaggerating. New York is full of crime, greed, and violence.
Yes, but it's a different kind. People are what they are. They don't pretend to love or hate you. If you're mugged on the streets, chances are the theft was for survival, not entertainment. And violence? If you provoke an unemployed and drug dependent resident in Spanish Harlem, yes, he will probably hurt you. Why? Not because he wanted to show everyone how tough he was, but because he needed to protect what little dignity and self-respect for himself he had remaining.
So what's the provocation of my rant?
I'm tired. It's been a long week, lots of early clinical hours and no pay (which is fully understandable, I'm just saying) and no jumbo slice to ease the pain. Somehow the nurses think I owe them something by assisting them with their patients. You'd think it would be, "You bathe my patient and I'll teach you how I like to put a Foley in." But instead, it's "You only bathed them? I needed you to take them down to x-ray, ambulate with them in the hall, and feed them their entire breakfast while I stand here talking to my frienemies at the nurses station."
Sorry ladies. But if you're making demands then I'm demanding compensation--money or instruction would suffice.
Perhaps the reason for your enormous bottoms is due to your mobile, un-justified egos that are currently residing in that part of your anatomy.
And please, do us all the favor and sit on it.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Last night while Adam and I were tidying up our room and putting clothes away, a thought that's been getting shoved in the back of my mind finally pushed its way to my attention: I have way to many clothes, shoes, and accessories. How do I know this?--the closet bar is bending, my drawers and shelves are bursting, and my shoes have overtaken the entire "walk in" closet space.
Am I proud? No. Clothes = money, and I couldn't believe how much of that much needed green stuff has gone to this. To give myself some credit, I didn't buy all of the clothing I have. I have fabulous cousins who on a relatively frequent basis send boxes of clothes and shoes and other wonderful stuff.
What am I proposing?
A raid of my closet.
What does that even mean?
Anytime you need a dress for an event, a t-shirt or blouse for a date, or just a new variety of clothes for school, give me a call, text, or email and you can come over and pick items from my closet.
Why am I doing this?
I feel I have a special rapport with my clothing (I know, really?) and I can't possibly wear all of it. It's just not going to happen. But since Adam and I aren't exactly in a position to replace the clothes I get rid of, I can't part with anything yet. Not that my wardrobe is anything to brag about, but just so you know, it's there. I want my clothes to have a beautiful body to adorn, not just sit in my closet for months.
Qualifications to participate:
I have to know you--no friends-of-a-friend's.
Each item needs to be returned washed and dried (if washable and if doesn't require dry cleaning).
There will be a return date (I have to get them back somehow), and the items will be due back at my house by that date.
No sloppy eaters.
Um, yeah. I think that's it. I'm sure I'll come up with more later.
Anyway, not an earth-shaking announcement, just an offer that stands for you.