Hello from Minnesota!

So, it’s time for another blog/rant/update!

1. As many of you know, my dad recently had surgery at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester. He did very well, better than even the surgeons thought he would do. Not that they were expecting a bad outcome, but this had been my dad’s third surgery and they expected a longer recovery. He was in the hospital for 5 days and is now home, wandering around the house looking for something to do. He’s not one to sit around and do nothing for long periods of time, and with the restrictions they’ve placed on him (no driving, no lifting, no pushing, no pulling) it doesn’t leave much for him to do. Hopefully in a few weeks he’ll be almost back to where he was before the surgery, and life can resume. 

2. I did find something a bit alarming while I was visiting Dad in the hospital…the stairwells were really hard to find. I know that sounds like a minor annoyance, and there are people out there who couldn’t give two shits about taking the stairs. But as a person who hates exercise and tries to get the most out of everyday activity, I like to take the stairs whenever possible (and count it as a workout)…if I can find them. I wandered through three buildings at St. Mary’s Hospital looking for stairwells before I finally gave up and just took the elevator. I used to work there and knew were most of the stairwells were, but over time I guess I had forgotten. My poor mind can only remember so much, and apparently hidden stairwells don’t appear to be a priority. So as I was wandering around looking for stairs, I found myself wondering about the mayhem that would ensue should an actual fire break out. The only people that would probably survive would be the employees who knew where the stairwells were. And given the high amount of elevator traffic, I doubt most of the employees know where the stairwells are.  I did finally locate several sets of stairs, and as I lumbered up the six flights to Dad’s unit, laden down with my backpack, a laptop, and a winter jacket, I wondered about the rationality of taking the stairs. But I did it anyway, and probably don’t need to work out again until I’m back in Florida.

3. So I’m back in Rochester now for about 2 weeks, and it’s weird. I grew up here so it shouldn’t be weird, but it is. I like that things feel so familiar. I was able to find the post-office on the north side of town strictly from memory (all those trips to the bowling alley in high school helped!), and I don’t find myself lost very often. Rochester seems like a pretty easy town to navigate…or maybe it’s just that I spent so many of my early years here. I don’t know. I guess it’s good and it’s bad. Sometimes I’ll find myself in a store or a part of town that reminds me of friends who I don’t get to see much anymore, and that makes me sad. And then there’s other times I’ll find myself in places that remind me of dates gone wrong, boys I’d like to forget, and drunken nights where I just wasn’t drunk enough to forget my bad behavior.  Therein lies the trouble with visiting a place that holds years of familiarity. I sometimes wonder if I could move back to Rochester someday, have a new start of sorts, but still regain some of the good stuff from the old days. I don’t know if it’s possible to start over in a place that holds so many beginnings. I know I’ll probably be back here someday, when mom and dad start needing more help with their day-to-day living. Hopefully that’s years away, but one never knows.

4. It’s cold here. I expected it to be cold, and with –20 degrees yesterday morning, Minnesota did not disappoint. Honestly, I thought it would be worse. After living in North Carolina and Florida for most of the year last year, I had become accustomed to warm weather. When I’m in Florida, I bust out the coat and scarf when the temps drop below 60, and I wear a hoodie until the temps get up near 80. But then I get back here to Minnesota, it’s 15 degrees outside, and I throw on a hoodie, mittens, and a scarf and call it good. I don’t get it. I should be freezing. I should be huddled up under a blanket in my parents’ house refusing to leave under no circumstances. Why does 50 degrees in Florida feel so much more uncomfortable than 20 degrees in Minnesota? If anyone has any ideas, I’d love to hear them, because I’m really confused by the whole thing. I really did miss the snow though. I sat next to the window on flight home and sat riveted by the snow during most of the flight. I guess at heart, I’m a four seasons kind of gal. I know when I settle down for good, it’ll be somewhere that gets snow.  I can’t do this ‘palm trees at Christmas’ thing…it’s too weird.  Driving in the snow has been going well…I thought I’d be more nervous than I am…although I did drive home on the interstate going 50 miles an hour the other day…hahaha!  It was dark out and the road was shiny!  I was getting passed like I was standing still, but I didn’t care. Driving in the winter makes me nervous. I went in the ditch for the first time in my life last winter when I was home, I’d really like to avoid repeating that whole scenario if I can.

5. One thing I’ve been frequently partaking in since I’ve been back is Caribou coffee.  I used to drink Caribou when Simon and I first started dating, as that was his favorite place to get coffee.  You could say Caribou was my introduction to coffee.  Over the years I’ve gradually become a Starbucks person, partly because once you get out of the Midwest, it becomes difficult to find a Caribou.  And I’d like to add that I prefer to patronize little mom-and-pop coffee shops, but honestly, their consistency varies so much that I end up leaving disappointed more often than not. I feel bad saying that, but it’s true most of the time.  At least when I go to Starbucks or Caribou, I know what I’m getting pretty much every single time. So there’s my rationality in going with the big, corporate coffee places. It’s not something I’m overly proud of, but there it is anyway.  So back to Caribou…I had formerly written them off as nothing but milk and sweets with a little bit of coffee flavor.  I felt like Starbucks and Dunn Brothers delivered more coffee flavor and less sweet, but in the past few days, I feel that Caribou has stepped up their game.  I really enjoyed my coffee drinks, and I’ll be somewhat disappointed when I go back to Florida and only have Starbucks as an option. Ah, the troubles of traveling across the country…hahaha! 

6. Okay, so I took typing classes when I was in high school, and I distinctly remember the ‘two spaces between sentences rule.’ And I just recently found out that that rule is obsolete, and that that particular rule really only applies to typewriters. So here I’ve been double-spacing between my sentences all this time, and just recently found out that I’ve been doing it wrong. Was I taught wrong?  Or did I just not get the memo that things have changed?  I found some literature stating that double-spacing between sentences went out in the 70’s. So now I’m trying to put one space between sentences, and my right thumb (my spacebar thumb) is being very uncooperative. Many of you might not even notice or care, but as someone that types as much as I do, it’s been a struggle. If Facebook doesn’t auto-correct my spacing, I know there will be random big spaces and little spaces between all my sentences. This new information has also been a hit to my typing speed.  It’s almost like finding out that my Zodiac symbol changed. I don’t think I’m a Scorpio anymore, which is all right because I always found the dark and mysterious sexpot description of the Scorpio to be an inaccurate description of me. Not that I think the Zodiac correctly describes anyone, but maybe my new symbol will be a better fit…when I get around to figuring out what it is. As you can see, it’s not a priority.

7. Unfortunately for Simon and I, when we moved to Florida we neglected to bring along our Poo Log, which is a book that is designed for people to document their bowel movement satisfaction, taking into account smell, consistency, time spent in the bathroom, and number of wipes to a clean bottom…amongst other things. We like to keep it on our coffee table so our guests know that they’re visiting a ‘regular’ household. Most of the time…depends on how much cheese I’ve been eating, I guess. So now that I’m back in Minnesota, I made sure to put the Poo Log in my backpack so that it will come back to Florida with me, where it will regain its place of honor on the coffee table. I’m sure Simon has plenty of bowel movements to back log (as do I, but his entries are more entertaining), and our roommate Ellen will probably add a few entries as well.

8. My pug Brie has been having eye troubles lately.  Apparently she injured her eye at some point and now has an ulcer, which we’ve been treating for the past few weeks.  Now the vet wants to do surgery that may or may not help the ulcer heal.  I tell you what, with these pugs it’s just one thing after another.  I love them to death, but they are some of the sickliest dogs I’ve ever met in my life, and I feel like mine are two of the healthiest pugs I’ve been around.  They’re lucky they’re goofy and sweet, because the rest of them is nothing but a mess.  Simon and I have had lengthy discussions about how our current pugs will most likely be our last pugs.  It makes me a little sad, because I really do love pugs a lot, but everything that comes along with them is a bit of a financial, emotional, and physical burden.  Simon has me agreed to only two dogs, one of which may or may not be a pug.  That’s the agreement.  I know he’s leaning towards no pugs, and I’m starting to come around to that idea as well.  Lady, the mutt, has been almost the perfect dog.  If only I knew what she was.

9. I’m currently in the fourth book of the Harry Potter series.  I tried reading the Harry Potter books years ago, and just couldn’t get into them.  I was annoyed by the hype and really questioned how good they could really be.  Well, I like them.  I think the author is a good writer and the character development is pretty good.  I feel that the people that compare J.K. Rowling with Stephenie Meyer are completely off base.  They’re worlds apart in their writing ability.  I think lumping them together in the same category is actually an insult to Ms. Rowling.  But that’s just my opinion, and I haven’t fully gotten over my Twilight anger.  So anyway, I’m on the fourth book, which Simon says is his favorite of the six.  I’ve borrowed it from the library, and noticed that some disgruntled library patron has gone through the book and scribbled out the word “damn” wherever it occurs.  Who does that?  Especially to something that isn’t their property?  So I sit here and wonder what kind of person would do that.  My uncle Mike is convinced that it’s some crazy Catholic…hahaha!  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t agree.  What I have in my head is either a sheltered young child who wouldn’t think twice about skipping mass on Sundays, or a disgruntled retiree from the Midwest, also of the crowd that doesn’t skip church.  Why I correlate disdain for swearing with the church-going sect, I couldn’t tell you.  It’s just a feeling, I guess.

Ugh, I’m double-spacing again…

10. I am in love with my nephew, Jett.  He’s the cutest, most fun little baby I think I’ve ever been around.  He’s always happy and smiling, and he’s at that super fun 6 month-old phase, which is my favorite.  I think babies are the most fun when they’re flopping around, smiling, and making those cute gurgly noises…that’s the best.  Then they start talking and walking and all hell breaks loose.  Not that the walking and talking isn’t fun, I just personally enjoy the flopping and the gurgling more.  He’s getting so big!  He’s 6 months old today and he’s in 12 month-old clothing.  He was recently up here with my brother, Chris, for Dad’s surgery.  Mom and I went to two different stores to try to find a snowsuit that would fit little Jett, and the only suit we could find was lavender.  So, Jett got to wear a lavender snowsuit for the few days that he was here.  He didn’t seem to mind.  Chris didn’t like that the snowsuit said ‘Peace’ on it, but other that that he seemed okay with it.  Like we said, in Minnesota in the winter, you don’t dress for fashion, you dress for warmth.  I’m confident that Jett was plenty warm in his lavender snowsuit, even if everyone who saw him thought he was a girl…hahaha!  Oh, and I like to call him Jettrick…that’s my nickname for him.  I think he likes it.

 11. So Simon and I have been having talks about what we want to do with ourselves.  With the idea of kids ruled out, there’s really no reason for us to settle down just yet.  I’m one of those people that like to have a plan…even if I don’t follow through with it, I like to have one.  So here’s my plan.  We’ve loosely committed ourselves to a two-season contract with the hospital system in Florida.  After this current season, we’re hoping to go to Boston for the summer.  I’ve been busy filling out applications for California, Massachusetts, and Washington State.  Ugh…the licensing process is such a pain in the butt…and expensive!  I’ve spent about $600 in the past week in licensing fees, postage, and passport photos.  As an aside, I HATE my current passport photo.  It’s the worst photo of me in existence, and that’s taking into account all those drunken photos from college when I was about 20 pounds overweight.  I won’t let anyone see my passport; I’m so ashamed of it.  And I know, it’s like a driver’s license, it’s supposed to be ugly, but I don’t think any of my driver’s license pictures have been ugly.  And so I find it unacceptable that I have an ugly passport photo.  I just want to lose the thing so I have an excuse to get a new one.  Either that or Simon and I could get married…then I would have to get a new one.  I think my current passport will probably expire before that happens though…hahaha!  The passport photos I had taken for my license applications were so good!  Why can’t I just trade them out?  Or paste the new photo on top of the current one?  Life just isn’t fair.  ;)  Anyway…my Massachusetts license is in the mail as I type this, hopefully well on its way to the correct person.  I’ve heard that the license process for Massachusetts takes a long time, so hopefully I’ll have my license by May, which is when we would like to be up there.  If we can’t get Boston, we’d like to either go to Seattle or San Francisco.  I think all three of those cities are good choices, and I think we’d be happy in any of them for the summer and early fall…although we have friends in Boston and Vermont, so Boston would be the most ideal pick.  We’ll just have to see!  Over Thanksgiving weekend this year, Simon and I will be trekking down to Peru with some friends to see Machu Pichu…I probably spelled it wrong, but you get the idea.  We’re super excited and a little nervous, of course, but I know it’ll be fun and an amazing experience.  Our friend that’s planning it is such a fun girl, I know she’ll have all the details down to a T, and we’ll all have a great time.  After Peru we’ll head back to Florida for another winter season that’ll probably take us into June of 2012.  After that starts the big planning part…

12. I’d like to become ICU trained one of these days, and the only way to do it is to hang up the traveling shoes and take a permanent job somewhere for at least two years.  Having a permanent job scares me a little bit, seeing as I haven’t had one in over 5 years.  The nice part about my current job is that there’s always an end in sight, which is really nice when we’re in the throes of a crappy assignment.  With a permanent job, I won’t be able to just up and leave without burning bridges, so I’ll have to stay on staff for a while, which brings about the risk of getting settled and staying somewhere too long (God forbid!).  So we’re weighing out our options.  We could come back here to Minnesota and I could try to get a job at Mayo, Fairview University, or HCMC.  I think the type of experience that I’m looking for would be best found at one of those three hospitals.  I’ve worked ICU overflow at smaller hospitals during my travels, and granted, they gave me the easiest of the lot since I’m not an ICU nurse, but both patients that I had were the type of patients that I’ve taken care of on a general care floor.  If I’m going to get ICU trained, I want to take care of real ICU patients, and I feel that the only way to really do that is to work at a big hospital, or one that gets a lot of regional trauma/really sick patients.  I’m chasing the sickies!  Other options would be Fletcher Allen, which is the hospital that we worked at when we were in Vermont.  I LOVED Vermont.  I can’t express enough how much I loved living there.  I loved the people, I loved the state, I loved the food, and I loved New England.  Vermont is probably one of the places I’ve lived that actually felt like home, and if they have an ICU position open up within the next year or so, I definitely see Simon and I heading up there for a couple years.  But I don’t want to rule out any of the other places that we’ve been…I know Colorado has some really good hospitals, Duke or UNC in North Carolina would be great places to learn, Boston has some of the best hospitals in the country…the options are out there, I just have to find the balls to commit!

13. And last but certainly not least, an update on my laptop.  I’m in love with my Apple.  I remember my friend Jenny making the comment that once I got used to the Apple, I’d wonder why all computers aren’t built like them.  I honestly couldn’t agree more.  Granted, I don’t do anything complicated with my computers.  They are a vehicle for word processing, internet browsing, and photo organization.  That’s pretty much it.  I know I’m not using my computer to its full potential, but even if I needed to do more, I still think the Apple would be my choice over a PC.  I quietly told my good friend and staunch PC user that I bought an Apple, thinking that he would be mad at me, but instead he loudly proclaimed, “Great!  Now I won’t have to fix your PC anymore!”  So even he can see the merits of Apple computers for someone like me.  If I understood and could troubleshoot PCs as well as he does, I’d probably still have one.  However, I understand PCs about as well as I understand quadratic equations, and there it is.  I do have one gripe with Apple in general, and that’s their whole Big Brother thing that they’ve got going on.  And really, Simon pointed out that all the illegal stuff I was doing with my PC was still illegal…just because I was able to do it on the PC and not the Apple doesn’t make it right.  So he has a point.  Apple seems to have figured out how to keep people from using bootleg copies of software and whatnot…at least for people like me that can’t figure out how to get around their security and licensing software.  I understand the theory behind why they’re so strict, but at the same time I can’t help feeling that I’m being watched.

Anyway, that’s it.  There’s lunch to be had and I’m getting hungry.  Until next time!! 

Attack of the Snowbird Chronicles Part 1: A Trip to Target

It was a sunny, brisk Florida morning, and I felt the need to venture out to Target for deoderant and dog food.  On the way there, I got stuck behind a blue hair going 15 miles below the speed limit (in the left lane).  Driving next to me was a grey bush, also going 15 miles below the speed limit.  I had to sit through one green arrow because the aforementioned blue hair didn't feel the need to follow the rest of the cards through the intersection in an expedient manner.  So I had a whole set of lights to sit through to calm myself down and tell myself that it doesn't matter, I'm not in a hurry, the elderly are not out to get me.  So I get to Target where I was promptly almost backed over by a white hair in a white Lincoln.  I got into Target, and was greeted by a plethora of red cart weilding elderly, many of whom were blocking the aisles, and refused to move even when I waited patiently for them to pick out cans of cream of mushroom soup in what turned out to be a painfully slow process.  One woman  had the audacity to glare at me as I tried to look around, under, and behind her cart to see the items that she had blocked from view.  Perhaps if she had parked her cart on the same side of the aisle that she was standing on, not only would my view have not been blocked, but she wouldn't have clogged up the aisle with her slow shuffling back and forth from the soup side of the aisle to the side where she left her cart.  But I digress.  I finally finished running the gauntlet of carts and their elderly counterparts and practically sprinted to the check-out.  At which point I came upon another elderly woman who was doing her best to block the thruway by pushing everyone else's discarded carts into it.  She picked up her bags, shoved her cart into the thruway, weaved through the cart maze she had created, and exited the store.  I trailed behind her with my own purchases, wanting so badly to scold her for acting like a child, which, in my opinion, was exactly how she was behaving.  God forbid anyone else might want to get out of the Target without running into a bunch of empty carts.  Where the Target employees were whose job it might have been to clean up the aisles of discarded carts is beyond me...probably cleaning up other elderly messes elsewhere in the store.  So I get to my car, but not without almost being run down by a tiny woman in a grand marquis, barely able to see over the steering wheel, handicap tag dangling from her rearview mirror.  I felt safe in the confines of my Jeep, and took a short break to brace myself for the upcoming left turn out of the parking lot and into traffic.  If that turn was to follow the way the trip had been going, odds are that I would be sitting there for a while, waiting for a member of AARP to find the balls to pull out.  The wait in line was surprisngly short, and I was swiftly on my way home.  However, as I was making a right on red while a bunch of lefties were making their turn, I was creeping forward only to slam on the brakes because an octogenarian in a knit cap and block-long Buick was making a U-turn.  She slammed on her brakes, stopped in the middle of the intersection, and laid on her horn for no less than 5 seconds, glaring at me all the while.  "I'll teach you a lesson, you young whipper-snapper" was all I saw in her expression.  What she saw in mine was probably something along the lines of, "Get the F-- out of the road you old coot!"  I threw my hands up, shouted an expletive, and pointed at her to get her giant Buick out of the intersection because I clearly was stopped, and there was no reason for her to be sitting there.  That was it, the last straw.  Beware, little knit-capped lady...you WILL end up in the hospital someday, and Lord help you if I happen to be your nurse.  That is all.  I will not be leaving the house again anytime soon. 

Where Are We Going...and Why Am I in the Hand Basket??

A lot of time has passed since my last note!  And a lot of stuff happened…some good, some bad, some indifferent.  I’ll try to be brief, although that never works!

  

The biggest change for me in the last few months has been the death of my grandma Ellringer.  She’d been declining in health since the spring and had been living in a nursing home.  Despite not feeling good, she always kept up a good attitude.  She passed away at Season’s Hospice in the outskirts of Rochester, and we couldn’t have picked a more beautiful or peaceful place.  I miss her so much, and I think about her everyday.  I brought a few things of hers with me…her pink snuggie, her watch, her kitchen apron, and a few brooches that she used to wear.  Every time I see any of things, they remind me of her, and it makes me feel like she’s close, rather than so far away.  I know that her death was a blessing, the end of a long road filled with happy adventures, and that she’s in a much better place, surrounded by her friends and family that had passed before her.  I just can’t help but think that I’m in a worse place, that my life is just a little bit more bleak without her in it.  She was the pillar of our family, the beacon in the night.  She was the first person that I would stop to see whenever I came home from a trip.  The last time Simon and I came home, we didn’t even stop back at the house to drop off our stuff…we just parked the Jeep in front of the nursing home with the trailer attached and the paddleboards strapped to the top…must have been quite a sight for the old people peering out their windows.  She always took a private little delight in knowing she got to see me before anyone else, smiling smugly in her chair as I told her that she was first.  I used to paint her fingernails, and for a woman who had lead such a conservative, straight-arrow life, she always picked the brightest colors…her favorites being sparkly purple, fire-engine red, and bright blue.  It used to make her so happy when we had matching fingernail polish.  It makes me sad to know that this will be the first of many holiday seasons spent without her, and that I have to be so far away from my family.  It’s heartbreaking to know that I’ll never hold her hand again, never brush her hair, never covet her cute little old lady blouses.  It’s like I don’t know what to do with myself without her, especially when I’m home.  I know it’ll get easier with time, but part of me doesn’t want it to…I always want her to feel this close, even if it hurts.

Wow…that was a great way to begin the note!  I’ll try to perk it up a little bit from here on out.  So the night of Grandma’s funeral, we had a huge party of sorts at my parents’ house in Eyota.  I’m pretty sure we’ve never had that many people in that house at one time, and probably never will again…unless it’s under happier circumstances.  I couldn’t even provide you with a count of how many people were there, but I can provide a count of what was consumed, in no particular order:  3 bottles of Tequila, 1 bottle of Jagermeister, 2 bottles of grenadine, 2 bottles of Windsor, 3 12-packs of squirt, 1 12-pack of 7-up, 9 pizzas, 2 cases of beer, multiple bags of chips (Old Dutch dill pickle and onion and garlic, of course), popcorn popped in bacon grease and topped with garlic salt and parmesan cheese (best.popcorn.ever.), a brick of cheese, a log of summer sausage, a can of mixed nuts, a case of coke, brownies, cake, pasta salad, and pickles…there was probably more, but I think that list is long enough!  I got to hang out with cousins, aunts, and uncles that I don’t get to see all that often, and really never see all in one place.  They kept me out in the kitchen making the pizzas and fixing the drinks, where a woman belongs, according to my brother Mike.  :P  The 21-year old Shirley Temple (tequila, grenadine, and squirt) and the Temple of Doom (jagermeister, grenadine, and squirt) were both drinks that were conceived that night, and kept my cousins and I in a near-constant state of intoxication. We ate, drank, played cards, and told stories until the wee hours of the morning.  It was the kind of party that Grandma would have joined right into with gusto, so we felt like it was an appropriate send-off for her.

I am proud to announce that my fantasy football team ended the season with a whopping 2-11 record.  Not bad, considering I didn’t think I’d get a single win at all.  Oh well, there’s always next year.  I keep falling back on the excuse that I’ve won the championship twice, it’s only to fair to let some of the other girls win once in a while, right??  ;)

So I am officially done with the Twilight books.  Not done reading them, mind you, done as in nothing would satisfy me more than to send them sailing into a dumpster.  I’ve had issues with them from the start.  I resisted reading them for the longest time, but after reading some reviews online, figured they were worth checking out, for curiosity’s sake, if nothing else.  And against all odds, I liked them.  I knew from the beginning that it wasn’t good writing (horrible, in fact), and as a collector of Stephen King books, I found myself ashamed to admit that I liked them.  I think the concept appealed to me more than the writing…who wouldn’t want to live forever, be undoubtedly strong and fast, and maybe even have a super-power of sorts?  I felt like the books appealed to that little kid in me that used to envy Spiderman, Wonder Woman, and the Transformers (even though they were alien robots…I was still envious of them).  I was just recently re-reading the third book when I threw it down in anger, claiming bullshit on the entire saga, as it’s called.  The main character sucks…I hate her, and seeing as all four books are being told from her point of view, it just kept getting more and more painful.  Usually in a series of books, the character development gets more interesting the further into it you get, but her character development just got more repulsive.  And I hate how the author wants to skip around all things sexual, violent, and anything else that might be considered untoward.  Vague comments and subtle hints at perceived violence and sex leave the reader confused and missing the point.  And I understand that these books were written for young adults, but I used to read Christopher Pike books when I was young; they had way more sex and violence in them than the Twilight books.  My point being…I wish I hadn’t wasted my time, and I wish I would have come to this conclusion sooner.  I woke up in the middle of the night last night and was so angry about seeing those books there that I almost got out of bed right then and there to throw them in the recycling bin.  If any of you out there are curious about them, as I was, let me know and I’ll ship them promptly to you, free of charge.  If not, they’re taking a trip to the library for donation…although that seems cruel to the young minds that will invariably be reading them.  I’d almost rather recycle them, if for no other reason than to take their refuse-filled pages out of circulation.

Before coming to Florida, I brushed off the nagging voice in the back of my head that told me to bring my winter coat.  I remembered wearing it a few times when were here in January, but I was told by all the locals that last winter was unseasonably cold and it wouldn’t be like that again this year.  Yeah…it was 39 degrees yesterday morning.  There was frost on the car.  Frost!  In Florida.  I know I’m not going to get any sympathy from those of you up north dealing with sub-zero temperatures, and I don’t expect any.  What I’m trying to say is, 39 degrees is cold enough no matter where you are, and I am inadequately prepared for it.  I recently bought some little stretchy gloves at Target just so I would have something to cover my hands, and I sent a pleading email to my mom to ship me my winter jacket, along with some mittens and a scarf.  Another reason I seem to be intolerant of the cold is because Simon and I drive the motorcycle everywhere, and in 40-degree weather on a bike, it might as well be snowing.  I’ve found that my fleece-lined raincoat seems to block the wind a lot better than my hoodies, so that thing has been a bit of a lifesaver.

Simon and I have come to the conclusion that our friends seem to be falling into one of two groups: training for a marathon, or in the throes of child rearing/bearing.  There are those rare instances where some fall into both categories.  It’s bizarre!  Is that what happens when we start getting into our 30’s?  As most of you know, I have no desire to have children…and even less desire to run a marathon.  I briefly toyed with the idea of running a 5K (ha…walking would have been more like it), but I never got around to doing it.  Honestly, if given the choice between having children, running a marathon, or being bald, I would probably choose being bald.  I say that now, of course, since I’m almost as far away as a person can get from being bald, and maybe my choices would be different were this a real scenario and not a hypothetical one.  I have to wonder though…having children is definitely out, so that would leave the bald or the run.  I think I would still end up bald, not because that would be my choice, but because I’m much too lazy to train for a marathon, and therefore would fail in the running attempt.  But maybe, if there was a loophole and I could just attempt the marathon, then I could keep my hair.  It’s something to ponder.  Wow…those are five minutes I’ll never get back.  In all seriousness though, I wonder if my parents and their friends were training for marathons in their 30’s as vigorously as my friends seem to be.  The children thing is definitely different, since my parents and most of their friends were mostly done having children by 30, whereas a lot of my friends are just beginning.  It’s weird to think of my parents at 30.  I actually have recollection of my mom in her early 30’s.  I remember her being pregnant with Mike.  It’s weird to think about my parents being my age right now, and to see the vast differences in the paths that we’ve chosen.  Neither path right or wrong, just different.  It works.

And as far as the kid issue goes, I should probably try to clear something up a bit.  I’ve gotten the impression that a lot of people think that I hate children.  I’m not sure if this is because I at some point may have said that (I hope not), if it’s because I’m choosing not to have my own, or if it’s because I’m really stiff and uncomfortable around kids.  Regardless of what started it, I would like to make it known that I don’t hate children.  I enjoy them from time to time, but I’m really nervous around them.  They make me feel insecure, for reasons even I don’t understand.  I feel like maybe I’ve lost my inner child, which is really sad and tragic when you stop to think about it.  Maybe it’s just a lack of use of that maternal side of me.  I always talk to children like they’re adults, and then I feel awkward when they don’t respond like adults.  I don’t know what to do with them when they’re crying or throwing a fit.  Simon, on the other hand, is the exact opposite.  Kids gravitate towards him, they love to climb on him and play with him and paint with him and show him all their toys.  I feel like kids are judging me, and I really shouldn’t even be worrying about that, they’re kids.  I want them to like me but I don’t know how to get them to like me because I’m too nervous to let loose and just be a big kid.  One would think that with all the poop talking I do and with how immature I am at times, that I would have no problem giving up to my inner kid, but I find it extremely difficult, almost impossible.  And granted, poop talking and potty mouth is not exactly the best way to interact with children, as most parents will agree.  People always say, “It’s different when it’s your own child,” and that’s probably true.  Not that my nephew is “my own,” but I got to spend a lot of time with him in the fall, and while I was uncomfortable at first, by the time they were getting ready to head back to Phoenix, I was actually playing and cuddling with him, and it didn’t feel weird at all.  I even changed his diaper, fed him, and rocked him to sleep.  Keep in mind, that he was only three months old at the time, so there wasn’t a whole lot he could adversely do to make me feel insecure.  I recently made the comment to my friend that the closest I want to get to having kids of my own is spending time with hers.  I didn’t realize at the time that that might have sounded insulting to either her or her children, as if my lack of having kids had something to do with them directly, but I didn’t mean it to be.  What I meant was that I don’t feel like I need to have my own kids, and that I am content getting my kid fix by just being around other people’s kids.  Maybe my discomfort around children stems from a lack of exposure.  I don’t know what it is, but there it is just the same.

And before anyone asks me why I’ve decided not to have children, I’ll tell you.  I just don’t want to.  Simple as that.  Life comes down to what you want to have, not necessarily what you can have.  I know I could have kids if I wanted them, but I just don’t.  Just like I don’t want a split level house, a car with only two doors, or a poodle.  People with kids might be offended by that, thinking that I’m trivializing having children by comparing it to owning a poodle, and I’m glad for that.  The people that are offended by that statement are exactly the kind of people that should be having kids.  I applaud the people that have the balls to bring children into this world, to take on the responsibility of feeding them, clothing them, educating them, and raising them to be good citizens in our society.  I just don’t have that in me.  I’m not selfless enough to give everything over to a child.  Maybe no one is until they have that little bundle in their arms, I guess I don’t know.  I have all this guilt about how I’ve behaved negatively towards my parents throughout the years.  How did they stand it?  How could they possibly still love me after some of the crap I put them through, after some of the stuff that I said to them?  How ungrateful was I to behave that way towards the two people that gave up life as they knew it to bring me into this world?  How could the good times have possibly outweighed the bad?  How would I handle that if it was my own child?  I guess maybe the blissful part about having children is that they don’t start out as little deviants, that they’re snuggly and loving and sweet.  I feel like it would just feel that much worse when they started to pull away.  I don’t know though…that’s all just speculation on my part, having no experience whatsoever to draw from.  I’m too hung up on the “what comes next” part of it, I guess.

So Simon and I had a conversation a few months back about deal breakers when it comes to relationships.  Luckily, we seem to not have an issue with deal breakers getting in the way of our courtship.  Or so I thought.  He recently told me that he almost didn’t date me because of my dogs.  I was caught completely by surprise, but in hind-sight, I have enough self-awareness to realize that I shouldn’t have been.  I’ve had dogs for so long that they’re just a part of me; I don’t picture them as a separate entity like everyone that doesn’t have dogs does.  I’ve never considered a life without dogs.  I didn’t even realize how difficult it was for him to make the decision to just deal with the dogs and date me anyway, and how close he honestly came to walking away from the four of us.  As he so eloquently put it, “I decided that I liked you more than I disliked your dogs.”  Thank goodness for that.  Who the heck knows where I would be without him?  I can’t even imagine, and honestly don’t really want to think about it.

Simon and I recently had three months off from the working world, and we spent a large majority of that living in my parents’ basement.  Not exactly the most ideal living situation, but it was free and convenient, and it ended up being a really good thing when we were in the throes of the situation Grandma.  That got us to thinking about where we would want to live, should we decide to get our own place.  We have a few criteria that we’ve decided are important to us.  1) we have to live near water.  Not just a little stream, but something that we can take our paddle boards out on.  2) we love to hike and be outdoors, so a place with adequate outdoor activities is a must.  As far as physical requirements, those are pretty much it.  We’ve got a few cities in mind: Burlington, VT has everything that we’re looking far…big lake, mountains, lots of outdoor stuff…and as a bonus Vermont is just a really cool place to live…they focus heavily on being self-sustainable and take a lot of pride in their local businesses.  We’d be really close to our good friends in Boston.  It gets really cold there in the winter though, and it’s very expensive to live there.  $250,000 gets you a 2-bedroom condo with either a 1-car garage or none at all.  Flagstaff, AZ has the mountains and the nice climate, it’s close to my brother and his wife in Phoenix, and there’s tons of stuff to do outdoors.  Flagstaff has a big bicycle culture (for Simon), and they have kind of a green attitude/lifestyle.  Unfortunately there’s not really any accessible water nearby, and political arguments aside, I’m not thrilled with the idea of living in such a red state.  If nothing else, it makes my job more frustrating.  Fort Collins, CO is close to the mountains, lots of outdoor stuff, close to our friends in Denver, snowboarding for Simon, and is the home of the New Belgium brewery, Simon’s personal fave.  I haven’t really found much negative, except the proximity to water.  I’m not about to go whitewater rafting on my paddleboard.  Ashville, NC is a Stefanie-only request, therefore it won’t ever happen, but I feel it should be mentioned anyway…tucked into the mountains of western NC, it’s close to water, hiking, and lots of outdoor activities.  They also have a somewhat green lifestyle, and all the sweet tea and BBQ I can fit in my stomach.  I’m sure there are some drawbacks, but Simon’s already vetoed it, so that’s really the only drawback that matters.  And really, it’s not close to anyone that we know, so it would be for purely selfish reasons if we moved there.  And last but not least, the city near and dear to both of our hearts is Minneapolis.  Lots of water, great restaurants, close to family and friends.  It’s too bad it gets so cold and there’s not much for hiking without a bit of a drive.  In all honesty, I really see Simon and I settling in Minnesota, mostly because of the proximity to the majority of those closest to us.  Minneapolis is also a great halfway point between my family and his family, which would be ideal.  I hate that it gets so cold, but I think being close to family and friends would be worth it.  I hope so, anyway.  So those are our cities.  Not that we’re going to be settling any time soon, but it’s fun to think about every now and then.

Proximity to family is something that’s been on my mind a lot during these past few weeks.  Before we left Minnesota, I knew that I would be missing the opportunity to spend Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s with my family and friends.  For some reason I didn’t think that would be a problem…I had gotten in a lot of friend and family time during my break from work and thought that would be enough.  Over the last few weeks, it seems to have become somewhat of an issue.  I missed the first snow, which is something I’ve never done.  I have never gone an entire winter without seeing snow.  And I know that it sounds like I’m complaining about missing out on the coldest, most miserable months of the year by spending my winter in Florida.  I know for a fact I’m just pining for the nostalgia…the hot apple cider, the coming in to a warm house from the bitter cold, the magical glitter of fresh snow, clustering around the fireplace with friends and family, holiday parties…I could go on and on about all the things that I actually do appreciate about winter.  And then reality sets in and I remember how miserable 6 months of winter really is.  So I am aware that my current situation is not as bad as I might make it out to be, because I know that cold days in Florida in the winter are still better than warm days in the winter in Minnesota.  I just miss my friends and family, more than I thought I would.  Most people that seem to ride me about being a little unhappy in Florida for the winter have never lived more than a few hours drive from their friends and families.  It’s not that I don’t get their lack of understanding, it’s just that they don’t personally know what it’s like to be so far away, especially this time of year when everyone is getting together for holiday parties and family gatherings.  I told myself that it’s just Christmas, it’s just a silly time of year chosen way back in the day by who knows what guy…it shouldn’t matter.  But when I’m out and about and all I hear is Christmas music and all I hear about is Christmas plans, I can’t help but be bitter about the fact that I have to miss all of it.  I should be home making Christmas cookies with mom, going to the mall with Dana, and attending the Christmas party with all my college friends…it doesn’t matter that I had seen most everyone during my time off in the fall, for some reason I’m having trouble accepting that it’s all going on and I don’t get to go.  It makes me sad.  And I know that I’ve chosen this lifestyle, therefore I should be afforded no sympathy…but a little empathy once in a while can’t hurt, right?  I promise to complain less about the cold days in Florida, and I won’t gloat about the warm ones…just know that no matter how cold it is back home, I still miss everyone and wish I was there.

We’re finding that the drawbacks to living in a hurricane-proof townhouse are that we don’t get cell phone reception while we’re in it.  My phone has been pretty silent during the month that we’ve been here…I don’t even remember that I have it most of the time.  It just sits there on the charger, searching for service.  Maybe I should just turn it off and call it a day.  Despite that, this does seem like a really nice place to live.  Most of the neighbors have been friendly, and if not friendly, then at least indifferent.  No one seems inconsiderate or rude.  Well…except for the woman that lives behind us who leaves her stupid wiener dogs out on her patio to bark.  After three hours of it one day Simon went over there to ask her to bring them in.  He figured he’d come across a little nicer than I would…he was probably right.  When he got over there and asked her to take them in, she said, “oh, are they barking?”  Are they barking?  What kind of a question is that?  Actually, no, we just personally take offense to the sight of them.  Of course they were barking, you nitwit.  I wouldn’t be standing here on your front step having this conversation if they weren’t.  And that right there is why it was best for Simon to go over there, rather than myself.  Other than the wiener dogs though, things are going good.  Well…except for that time I hit the garage door.  What an idiot.  So we don’t have a garage door opener in the car, so when we get home one of us has to run in and open it from the inside.  So I’m sitting in the car waiting while Simon goes in to open the garage.  I’m looking at the door, noticing that there are some dents in it.  The door starts to go up.  I’m thinking to myself, “Someone must have hit the garage door.  What kind of idiot hits a garage door?”  I start pulling forward, still thinking about how stupid some people are, when I heard a loud bang and a screw came flying down my windshield.  Shit.  I am that kind of idiot.  A) the garage is taller than I’m used to, therefore it takes longer to open all the way.  B) the paddle boards were on top of the Jeep, making it that much taller.  When all was said and done, the garage door just knocked the fin off Simon’s board, but not without getting a hefty dent in the process.  The metal bar running across the back of the door was twisted, but Simon was somehow able to get it straightened out.  But that got me thinking…I really don’t think I had hit it hard enough to cause that bar to be so twisted.  Some external dents to the door…maybe, but not to twist that bar.  We realized that after we straightened out the bar that the door actually closes smoother and more quietly than it had before.  So I’m thinking the previous hit did the damage…I’m not totally to blame, right?  I hope the homeowner feels that way when he comes over this month to pay us a visit.  Yikes.

And that my friends is probably enough for the time being.  I hope all is well, and that you and yours have a wonderful holiday season.  :)

From the Sunshine/Wind/Rain State

1.  So…I’m very embarrassed to say that I kinda want to see the movie “The Last Song.”  Yes, I know it has Miley Cyrus in it, and Yes, I know that it was written by Nicholas Sparks.  Get ready for the rationalization!  There’s hot guy volleyball action in it.  And it doesn’t appear to be the homo-erotic Top Gun volleyball playing…not that I didn’t like that scene in Top Gun…anything with any sort of libido can appreciate that scene.  Yes, I said anything…that sentiment is not just aimed at people.  Everyone knows volleyball players are sexy, that’s just how it goes.  Greg Kinnear, who I secretly have a crush on, is also in it.  He pretty much always puts on a good show.  Perhaps this movie will cause me to recant a little bit of my Nicholas Sparks hatred.  I’ve never read one of his books, and I’ve only caught bits and pieces of the movie “The Notebook.”  It was enough to make me vomit into my mouth.  What a sap!  Seriously, the two people at the end of the Notebook die at the same time while holding hands?  Give me a break!  Makes me wonder if Nicholas Sparks does, in fact, have a penis.  However…given that he’s sold millions of books to millions of adoring fans, and then those books go on to become movies that are cherished by millions of fans and non-fans alike, I guess maybe I shouldn’t cut him off without at least giving him a chance.  Of course, given all my disdain for him, should I actually enjoy one of his books or movies, I will never admit it.  This is a stance I’ve held for years, and if I suddenly start liking Nicholas Sparks, it’s going throw everything I’ve ever said into question, and I can’t have that.

2.  I am totally, completely, and 100% in love with manatees.  Every day when I’m not at work, I think about going to see the manatees.  When I’m at work and my patients aren’t falling out of bed or soiling themselves, I read about manatees on the internet.  Forget the beaches and the palm trees and seafood…I think one of Florida’s most redeeming qualities thus far has got to be the manatee.  I recently had the opportunity to kayak in a river that has manatees…we almost shat ourselves the first time that a group of them surfaced close to us.  I thought I was going to tip out.  Towards the end of the paddle while Simon and I were sitting very quietly in our boats, a curious little guy came up to us and started pushing our kayaks around.  It was crazy to see this light patch of water just materialize into a giant animal.  He would poke his little head out of the water so we could touch him, and he would roll onto his back so we could rub his belly.  He was the cutest!!  I wanted to take him home with me, but I think he would have been a bit too big to fit in the bathtub.  They seriously are the pugs of the water; I have no doubt in my mind that that’s why I like them so much.  I also found out that the word manatee comes from a native word meaning “breast.”  Maybe because they resemble giant boobs?  I guess there’s been talk about trying to get the manatee off the endangered species list, since their numbers appear to be coming up.  It’s good that their numbers are coming up, but it’s bad because once they’re off the list, the conservationist effort stands to lose a lot of funding in preserving their habitats.  It also means that a lot of the enforcement for boats in manatee zones will go away.  Boat collisions are one of the main causes of death for manatees, since they hang out so close to the surface of the water and don’t seem to have an instinctual fear of boats.  I hope they stay protected…interacting with that one manatee was hands down one of the greatest experiences of my life.

3.  I recently finished doing my income taxes.  What a pain in the ass that was.  I had to file in four states, and unfortunately, Turbo Tax only allows a person to do three states through their online program.  So I had to print out the return for Arkansas and fill it out by hand.  “Multiply the number in box 8 by the number in box 10, then divide that by the number in box 2, then subtract from that the number in box 14, then go to the tax table and find out which bracket you’re in, get that number and subtract that from the number in box 5…”  It was horrible!  All together it probably took me about four hours to complete the entire process.  If I was more organized and actually kept track of receipts, it would probably do my brain better to just take my stuff to a tax person and let them have at it.  But I’m not organized.  That and when I’m buying something in June, I don’t think to myself, “I should probably save this receipt so I can write it off on my taxes…next April.”  When all was said and done, I’m getting myself a pretty good tax return.  Of course, the first return to be accepted was from the state where I ended up paying in…imagine that.  Minnesota is charging me almost $200 a year just to say that it’s my permanent residence.  I think income tax should be terminated…what’s the point of it?  All it does is stress me out and makes me think the government is doing something sneaky behind our backs.  Oh wait, they probably are…and it probably has nothing to do with income taxes.  Income taxes are probably just a diversion to keep us occupied so they can do all kinds of messed up crap.  They’re probably reading this right now and putting my name down to be audited.

4.  While the Olympics were going on, I found myself envious of the professional snowboarders and skiers.  Those people have it made.  Granted, they engage in a profession where it’s very possible they could die with each run down the mountain, and they always have to do their profession in the cold, but still.  That’s a talent you either have or you don’t.  Unfortunately for me, skiing and snowboarding seems to be an area of which I have little to no talent.  It made me think about my own job, how anyone could technically be a nurse.  All you have to do is go to college and someone will teach you how to do it.  I was telling Simon this, and he said that while anyone can go to school to be a nurse, it definitely takes a certain talent to be good at it.  I think he’s right, and I see it everyday at work.  Being a nurse makes me want to avoid being a patient at all costs.  There’s a saying around the hospital that nurses make the worst patients, and I tend to agree with that.  I’m sure I would be a bit of a nightmare, mostly because I’d be scared of surrendering the nursing aspect of things to someone that I don’t know or trust.  And really, I’ve seen both nurses and doctors make mistakes, and I don’t even want to be on the receiving end of a medical mistake.

5.  So one morning after work, Simon and I had a lengthy discussion about poop.  Well, it wasn’t really much of a discussion, it was more like I was talking, and he was either agreeing or disagreeing by making sounds.  Here’s how it started…Stef: I took a monster dump at work last night.  Simon:  Uh…that’s nice.  Stef:  Did you poop at work last night?  Simon:  Why do you want to know that?  It was at this point that he left the couch we had been cohabiting to sit across the room at the computer.  Apparently to Simon, talking about either of our bowel habits is not funny in the least.  And here all this time I thought he shared my humor for all things poop (including our own)…imagine my disappointment when I found out that I’ve been disillusioned this entire time.  He actually doesn’t like hearing about bowel habits, mine in particular.  When asked if he wanted to talk about bowel habits, his response was, “I’d rather you didn’t” and “why would you even want to know about that?”  Which made me wonder…why do I want to know about that?  It’s not like I wanted the down and dirty details, I was just curious as to whether or not he had pooped at work.  Yes or no, end of story.  Well, it probably wouldn’t have been the end of the story, but had he just admitted that he had pooped at work, I probably would have quit pestering him about it.  Probably.  I may not have.  It was after work and early in the morning and I had been awake for well over 16 hours…after having worked 36 hours in three days.  With that amount of sleep deprivation, one never knows what direction I’ll take a conversation.  This particular morning the conversation led me to a startling conclusion…Simon hates hearing about me pooping about as much as I hate hearing about the Simpsons.  For those of you that didn’t already know, I can’t stand the Simpsons.  I don’t think they’re funny, and I probably never will think they’re funny.  So, in short, Simpsons=Poop when it comes to conversation material that Simon and I would rather not talk about.  I get it now.  Once I had made the Simpsons/poop connection, of course I couldn’t stop talking about it.  On and on I went, giggling maniacally.  I started firing questions at him like we were at a firing range.  “What if I thought I had to have the assistance of a butter knife to get the turd to go down, would you want to hear about that?”  Simon: “No, I wouldn’t.  I actually think poop is gross, not funny…especially your poop.”  See, I would want to hear about that, because I think any sort of manual assistance required in getting a turd down the toilet is insanely funny.  But now I know that if Simon ever had a turd that needed some assistance getting down the toilet, he would never tell me.  He would deprive me of that story.  Everyone poops, and it’s funny, and I wouldn’t think less of him for answering a few poop questions.  He could even say it was the poop of a friend and I wouldn’t care.  I just love a good poop story, is all.  I do think it’s funny that it took him three years of dating me to get the point across that he doesn’t like talking about our poop.  That’s a long time, and believe me, there was a lot of poop talking in those three years.  I believe the conversation this morning ended with him saying, “There is something wrong with you, and I don’t mean that in a funny way.”

6.  After almost two months of complaining, multiple air fresheners, and three carpet treatments, Simon and I have finally been moved to a new apartment.  Apparently the complex would rather move us than replace our carpet, which means they’re going to subject some other poor sap to the awful smell of cat pee.  And this time, it’ll probably be someone who signs a year-long lease that they can’t get out of.  The management initially wasn’t even going to allow us to switch apartments, but there was another travel nurse down here that left last week and we just moved into her apartment.  And it’s gorgeous!  Vaulted ceilings, large kitchen, big bathrooms, toilets that actually flush without the assistance of a plunger, big windows that let in lots of sunshine, and no pee smell!  Had they decided not to move us at all, I was honestly ready to go postal on these people.  I left a wonderful review of the place on Google…twice.  One for pre-move, another for post-move.  It’s not that they didn’t try, because they did…kind of.  I know they don’t want to replace the carpet because that’s expensive, but honestly…people are paying good money to live here.  It’s irresponsible and unacceptable.  What peeved me the most is that over and over again, they tried to blame the smell on my dogs.  They told me to my face that my dogs were peeing all over the apartment, and that’s why it smelled so bad.  The carpet guy stood there and challenged me about pulling up the carpet to see if the carpet pad was wet, which would mean that my dogs had, in fact, been the culprit behind the smell.  I basically told him to knock himself out…pull up all the freaking carpet and check the pad.  I guaranteed him that it would be dry, and of course it was.  What a douche.  He acted like we were personally insulting him and holding him responsible for the smell, which we weren’t.  We just wanted to live in an apartment that doesn’t smell like pee…that’s not too much to ask, right?  Ugh…between the hospital and the apartment, this has been one crappy assignment.  Fortunately there’s enough wildlife, beaches, friends, and sunshine here to keep us satisfied.  I don’t think we’ll be returning to Fort Myers in the future though.

7.  One thing we’ve found interesting about Fort Myers is that it’s a veritable radio time warp.  I think we’re in the early-to-mid 90’s.  I’ve heard Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Sweet Dreams I don’t know how many times.  Not that I would listen to it, but I haven’t found a top 40 station yet.  Nor have I found an alternative radio station, or a station similar to The Current in Minneapolis.  It’s all early 90’s or classic rock.  Weird, right?  If we don’t hear either Prince, Tom Petty, or the Stones (or all three, in some cases) on the way to work, it’s a rarity.  I’ve been enjoying the classic rock station.  The 90’s stations are hit or miss.  I don’t mind a little Gin Blossoms every now and then, but I could definitely do without the Creed.  We did find a station that plays a lot of hip/hop and the occasional Lady GaGa, but that music is kinda hit or miss for me.  So far it’s been a welcome reprieve from the 90’s.

8.  Simon, our friend Ellen, and I recently made a trip to Naples to check out an art exhibit by one of our favorite glass artists, Dale Chihuly.  We saw an outdoor exhibit by him a couple years ago in Phoenix at the botanical gardens.  This exhibit was on a much smaller scale and was indoors, but it was still very cool.  The things that guy and his team do with glass are amazing.  I wanted to bring a little Chihuly home with me, but unfortunately I didn’t have my $40,000 credit card with me.  Dang.  Sharing the exhibit space with Chihuly was this other guy from France that specialized in the depiction of women cast in bronze.  There were also some men, but most of the sculptures were women.  I’m not quite sure what sort of women he was using as models, but the sculptures were not only disturbing, but as a women they were really offensive.  I found it interesting that the exhibit was called something along the lines of “the celebration of women.”  I tell you what, if I saw any of those women in real life walking down the street, I would run the other way…after staring for a beat, of course.  I’m pretty sure this dude had some sort of Mommy complex going on.  Or maybe he had been scorned by a woman and retaliated by making completely disgusting female statues.  All the sculptures had giant pendulous boobs, most of them with the nipples falling well below the belly button.  And they all had extremely large butts.  One of his drawings depicted a woman tossing her breast over her shoulder…ugh…I can’t imagine THAT is anything to be celebrated.  On some of the sculptures the boobs were so low lying that they actually looked like men, until closer inspection revealed boobs hanging around the hip area.  There were even a few where the vagina fell right between the boobs…hmmm…can’t think of a single man that would enjoy that.  Or would they?  Really…a celebration of women.  More like, “look at these fatties.”  Terrible.  I know it’s art and it’s something that I could never create, but I definitely had a hard time appreciating it for what it was.  There were two sections to the museum…one was showcasing the artifacts that the museum owned, and the other was showcasing the pieces that were for sale.  We happened to be following this little old couple around for a bit, and the woman kept making comments (rather loudly, I might add), “all the ones I want to buy are already sold.”  Really?  You’d pay $15,000 for a sculpture that looks like a couple tied off burlap bags?  Get out the wallet Grandma, there’s plenty of ugly, overpriced art to go around.  Good thing they’re already sold so you don’t have to waste your money, if in fact you actually have the money to waste on something as ugly as that.  I’m not sure for whose benefit she was making those comments, but she came across as a total cad.  

8.  I have some heartbreaking news.  The other day while Simon and I were in the car, he started reading off the ingredients in a bag of Doritos.  Come to find out that my most favorite snack in the whole world has BOTH partially hydrogenated soybean oil and MSG.  My heart is seriously breaking.  I’m aware that probably unknowingly consume both of those evil foodstuffs on a regular basis, but to knowingly eat them is something I try very hard to avoid.  Does this mean no more Doritos for me?  It might.  The thought of eating them right now kind of sickens me a little bit.  What is this damn world coming to??  If anyone has any suggestions for a nacho cheesy snack that might mimic Doritos, please let me know ASAP.  

9.  Last night I took a shot at making homemade mac and cheese.  It was part disaster, part success, and part disappointment.  For the longest time I’ve been trying to find a mac and cheese recipe that mimics the Wisconsin mac and cheese that they have at Noodles and Company.  So I found this recipe that claimed to be “almost exactly like” the recipe at Noodles.  So I gave it a shot.  Or I attempted to give it a shot.  The recipe begins by making a roux, which I have heard about, but have never done.  So there I am, melting my butter and adding my flour, the burner chugging away on high, when I realize that the flour is beginning to burn.  So I start to panic and start dumping the half and half into the pan, which causes my burning to roux to turn into big globular clumps in the pan.  As I’m freaking out, Simon comes over and helpfully says, “I don’t think you’re supposed to have the burner on that hot.”  He was lucky that one of my hands was occupied with a measuring cup full of half and half, and the other was vigorously trying to stir and de-clump the roux.  Oh, and I thought that using a spatula in place of a whisk would be all right…it was not.  So that’s how the mac and cheese began…with burning, chaos, and inappropriate cooking utensils.  I’m glad to report that the rest of the cooking process went off without a hitch.  However, I would like to sit down and have a chat with the woman that claimed that the recipe is “almost exactly like” the Noodles recipe, because clearly, it is not.  Despite three cups of half and half and three cups of shredded cheese, I could still taste the flour.  It almost had the taste of cafeteria mac and cheese, which you know is diluted with water and then thickened with flour, and doesn’t taste unlike the homemade playdoh that we had made in preschool.  Come on, you all know you made the playdoh, and that you all tasted it…I’m not the only one.  Perhaps it had a floury taste because of the disastrous roux.  I know that next time I’m going to skip the roux all together, and maybe add a titch of velveeta, and just enough cornstarch to thicken it up a bit.  That ought to do it.  I’ll keep you posted on my progress.

10.  In light of my recent kitchen failures, I would like to highlight a success.  I had this random recipe for peanut brittle that I had gotten out of a magazine a few months ago and had never taken the time to make it.  I love peanut brittle.  Back when Grandma had her own place and was still making Christmas goodies every year, she always made peanut brittle, and it was the best.  Currently I am living with a man that hates peanut brittle, and will only eat it when he is dire need of a sweet and there is absolutely nothing else available.  So we never have peanut brittle in the house.  Given that this recipe called for cinnamon, which all you peanut brittle people know is NOT a normal ingredient for peanut brittle, I decided to give it a shot and try it out on the hater.  He loved it!  And I have to admit, it was really good.  And for some reason it didn’t stick to our teeth at all.  Maybe because there’s no butter in it?  I haven’t the slightest idea, but I do know that one batch of the stuff didn’t last longer than 24 hours.  I think it made it just past the 15 hour mark.  Granted, the batch was little…only one cup of peanuts, but still.  Just to be clear, this is definitely not a substitute for old-fashioned peanut brittle like Grandma used to make, but it’s definitely quite a tasty little treat, if I do say so myself.

11.  The other day the pugs received a much needed bath.  For animals that don’t do a whole lot, they sure seem to get stinky in a hurry…Brie in particular.  They’re surprisingly good about the whole bathing process, which is nice because I really don’t like beating them if I don’t have to.  Anyway, after the bath we took them out on our lanai and started brushing them since they shed like the dickens right after a bath.  Each of us was going to town brushing a dog when we heard a little old lady voice from below us, “Hello?  Hello!”  So I piped up and said hello right back to her, thinking that she was being friendly.  Unfortunately the old bat was trying to get our attention to tell us that we were getting dog hair all over her patio.  Upon hearing her voice the dogs went crazy, barking and making a scene, so we couldn’t hear the rest of what she was saying.  What I kept catching was, “I’m trying to talk to you…I’d like to talk to you.”  Over and over again.  So we threw the dogs in the apartment and picked up our tufts of dog hair that were lying around.  We apologized, of course, and she kept on repeating that there was hair on her patio…which we understood the first time she had said it.  Apparently she felt the need to repeat herself.  Then we both peered through the cracks in the deck to see how much hair had fallen…and we couldn’t see any.  Not that there wasn’t any, but we had huge clumps of it on our patio, and judging from her reaction, we expected to see the same on her patio.  But there appeared to very little, if any.  We also noticed that this woman had absolutely nothing on her patio.  Not that I’m saying it’s all right for our dog hair to drift down to her patio…but she sure was making a stink about it falling on a patio that she obviously never uses.

12.  Today Simon and I found a new water sport that we’re absolutely in love with.  Paddle boarding!  It’s so much fun, and it’s a great workout.  The best part of it is, you don’t even feel like you’re getting a workout because you’re moving so slowly, which is great for me since I’m so anti-workout.  We paddle boarded for about 4 hours today, and while I was tired by the end of hour four, I didn’t feel as tired as I would have if I had paddled four hours in the kayak, or god forbid, gone running for four hours.  I don’t even know why I threw that in there…I could never run for four hours, nor would I.  But I digress…for those of you looking for a low-impact workout, but still a workout nonetheless, I definitely recommend paddle boarding.  And, you get to toodle around a body of water relatively easily, and you can see a lot more of what’s in the water than you could from a boat or a kayak.  This could be a good or a bad thing, depending on what body of water you happen to find yourself on.  We saw dolphins today while we were out on the paddle boards, which was awesome.  They didn’t come right up to us like the manatees had, but it was still cool to see them swimming and splashing around.  They didn’t seem in the least bit surprised to see people standing upright in the water either.  So, now that we’re both obsessed with paddle boarding, I think we have a few new toys to add to the ever expanding wish list.  Ha!

13.  It’s weird to think that we only have 12 more shifts to work before we head back to Minnesota for a while.  It was definitely nice to be out of the snow for the winter, and we’ve had more visitors on this assignment than any of our previous assignments.  But, now that things are warming up back home and we’ve done most of what we wanted to do down here in Florida, we’re ready to be around friends and family again for a while.  I have no idea where we’re going next.  We’d like to go back to Vermont for another job, then maybe take August off and then head to Arizona for the fall and winter.  That would be ideal, but so far since Simon and I have been traveling together, our plans never quite work out the way we thought they would, and we end up in really random places, usually with unexpectedly good results.  Arkansas, North Carolina, Vermont and even Florida were all states where I never thought I would ever work.  When I first started traveling, I had it in my head that I would only travel to cities where friends of mine were already living.  Kind of like an extended visit, if you will.  It worked out great for Colorado (Denice and David), Arizona (Dana, Chris, and Darna), and Minneapolis (all my college buddies).  The economic slump in 2009 kinda forced us to take whatever jobs were available, whether we wanted them or not.  Our last few assignments have taken us to places where we arrived not knowing anyone but each other.  And each place was a new experience filled with new friends and new adventures.  I sometimes wonder what I would be doing if I hadn’t started travel nursing.  I honestly don’t even know.  I’ve become such a different person in these last few years that it’s hard to remember what I was like before.  It seems so long ago that I had my cute little house on 2^nd St. in Rochester, living by myself in that sketchy little neighborhood.  And life was good then.  It’s even better now.  I’m excited for what happens next.  I have all kinds of ideas about where I’d like to go and what I’d like to happen to next.  Only time will tell!  In the meantime, I hope to see lots of you Minnesota people when I’m home in a few weeks.  As for you out-of-staters, perhaps I’ll have the pleasure of working at a hospital by you in the near future.  Stay tuned!