peas with honey

A traitor in our midst.

We have a cat door that leads into our back yard and the kitties love it because they can come in and out as they please all day.  Mies (our other boy cat) is always running in and out.  I don't know how but that cat knows exactly when 5 pm rolls around because he usually comes flying through the cat door just when Dan puts out the canned food.  Last month, Mies didn't show up for a few days.  We combed the neighborhood but we couldn't find him.  I even slept in the living room waiting for him one night.  One day he just strolled back in through the cat door as if nothing was wrong.  I grabbed him and hugged him (which he totally hated) because I was so relieved that he was alright.  He stuck around the house for a few days and we figured that he may have been locked in someone's garage or something for those few days.  Mies and I also have a morning ritual.  He loves evaporated milk and I put it in my coffee every morning.  So, I pour a little evaporated milk onto a saucer for him when I have my coffee.  He jumps onto the island in our kitchen and meows until he gets him milk.  In other words, this little guy is very spoiled.

He is a really cool cat though.  He likes to play fetch and used to bring one of my hair ties and plop it on a chair or on our bed and one of us would throw it and he would fetch it and bring it back.  Mies stopped doing that when we moved him down to Sierra Vista though because he didn't need us for entertainment anymore....he had the cat door and all the adventures the outdoors provided....  Now I'm very biased but Mies is also extremely handsome.  He has a pink nose and beautiful stripes all over his body.  He also has the softest fur I've felt on a cat.  He likes to curl up his little body and sleep behind our knees.  On more than one occasion, Dan and I have admitted that we love him the best of all the cats.

Since Cracky has moved in, Mies has not had as much attention from his two number one fans.  Of course, after Cracky got shot, Mies has had even less attention.

Dan got a call yesterday from a neighbor about six houses down asking about Mies.  Our cats where collars with Dan's number on them and we occasionally get calls because the cats often lose their collars (they have those "cat safe" collars).  The guy calling Dan, however, hadn't found Mies' collar...he was checking to see whether Mies had been abandoned....wha?!?!  Apparently he had been hanging around our neighbor's house and they  thought he was a great cat and had even let him come into their house.  The neighbor told us that they had also fed him because he seemed hungry....this is the same cat who eats a half can of soft food in a nanosecond almost EVERY night at 5 pm!!!!  Dan told me that the neighbor didn't seem upset at all and they really liked Mies and were sort of hinting that they would adopt him.  Dan went over to talk to them about Mies yesterday and he was in their house....SLEEPING ON THE COMPUTER CHAIR IN THEIR OFFICE.  They have two little girls and they loved Mies because he would let the little girls pet him....this is incredible.  That little rat was acting like some poor homeless cat and our neighbors were taking care of him...he would then run over and eat and sleep at our house (when it was convenient for him).

So....NOW EVERYONE'S GROUNDED in our house and the cat door has been locked.  Last night and this morning there was a lot of complaining but I can't believe Mies went out and found another family.....so devious.

Cat gang violence.

Dan and I recently adopted a little white cat. Because he's the only white cat in the pride of cats already living with us, we call him Cracker or Cracky for short. He came from the mean streets of Tucson and we packed him up in the backseat of my truck and brought him down to the pastoral paradise of Sierra Vista. Wait a minute, did I say pastoral paradise? I should have said COMBAT ZONE because last week Cracky came hobbling through the cat door on our back patio with what appeared to be some kind of wound on his back right leg. It was about 8 pm and he was crying really loud. I checked the internet and found a vet open until 9:30 pm and we wrapped him in a blanket and drove him over. The doctor immediately guessed that the little guy's leg was broken. What? There was a small wound on the top of his leg which Dan thought could be from a pellet gun or something. I was shocked.

Cracky was taken away to get an x-ray and we could hear his crying out in the waiting room...it was pretty horrible because the little guy was obviously in a lot of pain. The really sad part was that he would still purr if the vet tech or anyone (for that matter) would pet his head. He is one of those really sweet little animals that may be too innocent for his own good.

The vet invited Dan and me to go in the back and see Cracky's x-ray which confirmed that his little leg was indeed broken at the femur (or top part of the leg). We could also see a big piece and several little pieces of what had broken his leg. Dan asked if that was a pellet from a pellet gun and the vet said "No...that's too big to be pellet, it looks like a .22 caliber bullet to me." My cat got shot with a .22? Are you joking? They told us that they'd call the vet surgeon (who did surgeries that week) to get an estimate for the surgery but they thought he'd probably require a pin to put his little leg back together. Unbelievable. They gave us antibiotics and told us they'd call the next day about the surgery.

We got the estimate...and it wasn't cheap at all. Dan (my sweet hero) didn't hesitate to pay for it and the little guy went under the knife last Wednesday. We were both really worried and called the vet's office all day but finally heard that he was doing really well. They kept him overnight and we picked him up the next afternoon. Dan wanted to see the bullet they extracted but the vet decided to keep it in because he said it would have caused more damage if he had gone in there to take it out. He said that, based on the position of the bullet, it wouldn't harm Cracky to leave it in there. I took a picture of the huge scar this little guy has now.

So...Cracky is (of course) making us crazy because he insists on trying to jump onto things with his three working legs. We also have to give him an antibiotic pill every morning and every evening and Dan and I are completely traumatized by the experience. Cracky acts like we're putting a cigarette out in his eye and Dan is so worried about hurting his leg that he won't hold him tightly. We try to wrap him up in what I call "the Kitty Burrito" which basically bundles the little guy completely in a towel with only his head free. Then one of us (Dan) holds the bundle while I force Cracky's mouth open and try to jam a pill down his throat while he makes gagging sounds and tries to get it out with his tongue. A very pleasant experience. Dan has a little trouble with the "burrito" concept. He likes to put him in a "taco" with his little arms and legs open in the front....that doesn't work. I've also seen Dan misguidedly believe that the "quesadilla" will work...which is just lightly draping the town over Cracky's shoulders. I've had to explain that I need a full blown burrito and none of those other lose, tortilla-wrapped mexican dishes.

I should also explain a little about why we adopted our little Cracky. My mother told us about him because a friend found him. He had a collar and was plump and clean and would come up to their house and try to eat the food they were giving to some homeless cats it the neighborhood. They kept shooing him away because they thought he had a home. He would keep coming back and sort of linger in the periphery watching the other cats and they noticed that he was getting thinner and dirtier. Finally they called the number on his collar and it was disconnected. In other words, he was abandoned. He is totally a house cat not fit for the outdoors and was dying to be allowed back into someone's home. It pretty much broke our hearts. He is also one of those little fellows who loves to snuggle and purrs at the slightest touch. He's a real sweetheart. We felt so horrible that we brought him down to live with us and he gets shot. He's recovering really well though and he's even starting to use his broken leg a little. The vet is going to remove the pin in about 6 weeks, so we'll see. I know...we're saps.

We still don't know what idiot shot our little boy. We live in a subdivision where there are a lot of homes and not much open space so it is absolutely ludicrous that anyone is shooting a gun in our neighborhood (with all the kids that run around)...even here in gun-crazy Arizona.

Learning About Bisbee.

It is really cold and damp here in Bisbee and it reminds me a lot of Vermont.  On my drive in to work for my second day as a Cochise County Public Defender this morning I had to drive over the San Pedro river and there was a thick layer of fog over that area...to the point when I had to slow down because of limited visibility.  My commute now is 25 minutes (as opposed to 1 hour 45 minutes).  Its really nice.

In front of the old courthouse there is a copper colored statute of an "Ironman" because Bisbee was a big copper mining town in its day.  The Ironman statute is wearing leg warmers today.  He wasn't wearing those yesterday so it must be extra cold for him today or something.  I went to the High Desert Cafe and got a cup of coffee this morning and that place is run by a bunch of tie-dye wearing, tattoo displaying women who could easily live in South Royalton Vermont.  I find it slightly ironic that I've come full circle back to a Vermont-ish atmosphere.  The people here are really laid back and hopefully I'll stop feeling like a total idiot soon and get with the program.  I really have no idea about criminal law and basically spend have my day asking for the definitions of certain terms or looking them up.  Going through an indictment is pretty time consuming right now because I have to look up every statute.  I haven't been to the jail yet but hopefully I'll go there soon.  I have 5 cases already which are set for trial.  I've been assigned to the "trial team" so I need to start doing witness interviews, etc. to get ready for that.  I'm from the civil discovery world where you do depositions and request written discovery.  This is much quicker and to the point and you don't have those pesky arguments about whether the person really complied with a discovery request.

The orientation for this job was a whole other story.  First of all, it took ALL DAY.  I've never had an orientation that long.  I got a binder full of copies of power point presentations about Fleet Safety (driving county vehicles), sexual harassment policies and the history of Cochise County.  It was also incredibly boring and difficult to pay attention to.  (I, of course, have about the shortest attention span in the world whenever anything that has to do with administration is involved.)  During lunch I had to haul ass over to Douglas, AZ to apply for a new social security card because I don't have my actual card anymore.  In fact, I haven't had one for over 15 years.  (It was in my wallet when my wallet was stolen from a Starbucks in Beverly Hills long ago.  Yes...bad things happen even in Beverly Hills.  I learned the hard way not to set your wallet down when you're putting sugar in your coffee.)  By the way, social security administration offices are just about the most depressing places in the universe.  I sat there with a bunch of people who couldn't speak English while they argued with the clerks about getting benefits.  I thought my number would never come up but fortunately it did and I got the requisite "documentation" to prove I have a social security card.  I asked the Cochise county HR lady whether they use everify (which should be able to verify that I'm an US citizen, etc.).  She said they did but they also needed my SS card.  (I had my passport but that was apparently not enough.)  I worked for the State of Arizona and never had to show my SS card.  Weird.

That said, I can't complain too much because the benefits here are pretty good.  The county pays for your health insurance!  It doesn't take any money out of your pay for that and for a life insurance policy.  Its pretty darn good.  The insurance looks great too, its all a PPO and they cover a lot of stuff.  That certainly makes my salary cut seem a little less harsh.

In the afternoon we learned all about benefits and signed up.  I, of course, was in a group with a person who had to have everything explained to her so it took a little longer than usual.  I'm always in that group.  The benefits lady had these really long bright red fingernails which I found hypnotic.  I couldn't stop watching them as she waved them around.  I probably missed a lot of the benefits because I couldn't stop watching those talons fly.  This same lady liked to talk a lot so I didn't engage her but the "question lady" had a lot of conversations with her about random things.  The benefits lady started talking about improvements she wanted to make to a house she and her husband had just purchased and she mentioned that she wanted to put a brick wall around the back of the house.  She said it would keep out the dust from a nearby dirt lot, keep her grandchildren safe inside her yard and keep out the "wetbacks."  Wha?!?!  Did I hear that correctly?  Did an HR person just call Mexicans wetbacks?  I couldn't help it but I coughed when she said that and she just looked at me with absolutely no idea that she'd said anything wrong.  Now....I'm a conservative and I believe our borders shouldn't be open but I would never call a Mexican a wetback!  This place is crazy.  Maybe I'm more liberal than I think I am....

Calling All People Who Drive On The 10 Between Tucson and Phoenix!

1.  If you're going to go fast....keep a relatively constant speed because, if you slow down, I WILL PASS YOU....It is not a challenge....Its not personal on any level....I'm on cruise control!  I don't want you around me....I'm listening to the Dennis Miller show....I'm also tired of looking at your stupid bumper stickers announcing that you're a bass fisherman and that you're an Arizona wildcat fan....

 

2.  The photo enforcement people put signs up announcing that there is a photo enforcement vehicle ahead....so....it shouldn't be a brake-slammin' surprise when you notice it on the side of the road.  Also, they really really do not ticket you unless you're 11 miles over the speed limit...the public announcements are not lies.  You do not need to go 10 miles below the speed limit and almost cause an accident.....

 

3.  Why on God's green earth do you speed up when you KNOW I'm trying to pass you?  Once again, I'm on cruise control....and I'm not going so fast that I appeared out of nowhere.  You were fine and dandy with your slowness until you realized that I was tired of driving slowly behind you in the fast lane and I was going to pass you...then it was ALL HANDS ON DECK and PEDAL TO THE METAL....really?....what is going through your little mind at that point?

 

4.  Trucks are slow.  Do not act surprised when you quickly come upon them....there are lots and lots of 18 wheelers on the 10....is this your first day behind the wheel?

 

5.  And YES....I AM ignoring you...when you try to get my attention because you want me to wave you into my lane....I have a policy of no cutting and I don't want to have to explain it to you.  Sit in line like the rest of us...you're not special.

 

OK....I feel a little better now.

Crack Security.

I just went downstairs to pick up some documents that were hand-delivered and the building receptionist gave me an envelope and handed me a clipboard telling me to "initial and date."  I looked down at the columns on the clipboard and they asked for "full name" and "time of pickup."  Okay......  Also, every other person who had picked up a package before me today had filled in their "full name" and "time of pickup."  So...being the follower that I am, I filled in my full name and time of pickup.  I didn't say anything as I handed the clipboard back to the lady with the rather blank and superficially cheerful face.

 

Now....if I worked the reception desk in my building, I would probably have a little fun with something like that.  I would tell people that I need a blood sample and thumb print when I hand over deliveries.  Or even better, I would tell them that I'll need a cheek swab and a full body search.  Why is this so funny to me?  I need a vacation....

We're so money.

Dan and I went to Las Vegas this weekend and we're completely and utterly exhausted.  I don't think I've ever laughed as much as I did this past weekend either.

 

First of all, I want to say a little something about the wonder that is the Tucson airport.  As I was told by a Chinese guy in Las Vegas on Saturday....its an international airport.  (I won't even get into the meaning of that one....)  Tucson airport is probably the best airport in the world.  I say this because it is nearly always empty and it is probably one of the last airports where you can arrive very close to your departure time without being stuck in a large line and stressing out.  Its very clean, there are a lot of bars and places to eat and the airport just seems to lack the stress and frenzy that exists in every other airport I've ever visited.  I mean, the Miami airport is grosser than an inner-city bus station...(I'm thinking of YOU NYC port authority....).  I'm just saying that Tucson airport is pretty much a dream as airports go now-a-days.

 

Dan and I flew on Southwest which is such a pain in the butt to fly with because of their weird check in line thing.  I just hate it.  We stopped and had a drink on the way to our gate so we were late and, for the first time ever, I heard my named called over the intercom to board a flight.  Good start!  There were no seats left together until the very last row of the airplane so we got back there.  Oh yeah, Dan has a big issue with the idiots who take extremely large carry-ons onto planes.  As they walked by us lugging their enormous carry-ons, Dan talked about kicking them in various parts of their bodies.  I offered suggestions on how to execute the kick so as to inflict the greatest amount of pain.  For example, a kick in the gut is best when the toe is pointed...that sort of thing.

 

We sat next to this sort of quiet guy who laughed as Dan described the safety instructions on the laminated picture card and made sure I was complying with all of the airline safety instructions (seat belt fastened).  The steward came by and Dan went into an elaborate decision-making process about what drinks to buy...he involved a few people sitting next to us and ended up buying drinks for several people in our vicinity.  The quiet guy in our row didn't want a drink but Dan asked him to pretend he was getting one so that he could get an extra drink (because you're only allowed to buy yourself one drink at a time).  After the complicated ordering process was finished, we learned that our seat mate was a former Tucson police officer and now a Parker, CO police officer who has flown down to Tucson to testify in a child molestation case.  So...Dan basically just asked a cop to help him circumvent the SW Airlines alcohol rules.  Nice.  I volunteered to help the cop arrest Dan if he wanted but the guy was really cool.  I learned that he thought a few people looked familiar to him on the plane and that he thought it may have been because he had previously arrested them for DUIs.  He said that he doesn't remember names but that he never forgets a face.  I thought a Vegas flight was probably a good place to see a lot of faces he recognized.

 

We made it to Vegas and, after picking up our checked bags (which were smaller than other people's carry-ons), we caught a cab to the Tropicana.  As we pulled up to our hotel, the cab driver told us that he wouldn't stay at the Tropicana...thinking that he would stay at a much nicer place, I asked him where he would stay..."oh, the Motel 6 or someplace."  ok....We didn't say another word for the rest of the ride....  After Dan paid the fare and gave him a tip, the cab driver apologized and said that he never knows whether to talk to keep quiet....Dan suggested that he work a little on his social skills.  I thought that was enough of a tip for that guy.

 

We're registering at the hotel and our rooms are comped so Dan (trying to show off) asks for his casino host.  His "usual" host isn't in so this other guy comes out.  Dan (acting very suave) leans in and tells the guy that he'd like tickets for the comedy show at the Tropicana...the Johnny Clayton show.  The casino host just looked at him with a blank stare.  Dan says it a little louder..."You know....the Johnny Clayton show...the comedian you have here."  The host then looked at him and said, "Do you mean Bobby Slayton?"  Dan (not missing a beat) says "Yeah...that guy you just said........[long pause].....I rhymed at least."  The host said that he'd see what he could do.  I knew that he wasn't going to do anything.  We never say the Johnny Clayton show or the Bobby Slayton show for that matter.

 

We went upstairs, put down our bags and headed to the casino.  Now, I'm a poor gambler because it physically hurts me to lose money when I could have bought a nice pair of shoes.  I put aside a couple of hundred dollars as my limit and played with it until it was gone.  If you've ever been to Vegas, you know that they change out the dealers on the BlackJack tables every hour or so (sometimes sooner) and, as I'm sure you can guess, we had a lot of characters.  There were several bossy eastern european ladies who, after they decided they liked you, would just shake their heads if you did something foolish.  One African dealer was from Eritrea and Dan called her "East Side."  That's because Eritrea is on the east coast of Africa....yep...we're the only people who got that.  We both did well in the Tropicana and visited the Luxor where Dan made his bet on the Rams to win the Super Bowl (85 to 1 odds) and the conference championship (I forget).  We believe we played at the Luxor, Mandalay Bay and MGM.  The lions weren't around then (because it was the middle of the morning).   At around 6 am, realized that the sun was sort of coming out again...is that was that yellow thing is?  Had we really stayed up all night?  What do you do when you've stayed up all night?  Ah...hem...go to New York, New York and play some more BlackJack...oh yeah....and you switch from beer to coffee and Bailey's....duh.  At NY, NY, the dealer was really nice but she must have been going through some hot flashes or something because she kept talking about how hot the place was and she was sweating.  Now, it wasn't freezing or anything but it certainly wasn't hot enough to make a person (let alone the dealer) sweat.  She was an older lady and told me that she thought Dan looked a little like Kevin Costner.  I know...he's my handsome sweetie....even without beer goggles.

 

At around 7:45 am or so, we decided that we should take a nap and headed back to our hotel room.  At 11 am, we were back up and ready to hit the buffet.  It was probably the alcohol from the night before but I didn't feel sore or achy that previous night.  I could barely walk Saturday.  You see, I have missed a month of Mack workouts because of work stuff and I went back two times last week.  Mack pretty much kicked my sorry butt and I had to do deep squats on the bar which pretty much caused my quads to seize up on Saturday.  I had to hold onto Dan's arm to walk down stairs and I used the handicapped toilet stalls (because of that handy rail they have in there).  It was pretty pathetic.  We made it to the MGM next and saw the lions.  There was a male and a female and it was feeding time.  Dan and I couldn't get over how much they acted like our cats but, of course, they were much, much bigger.  The female lion even played with a ball that huge claw marks in it from previous games.  Pretty cool.

 

We decided to walk down the strip and check out some of the other casinos.  I don't know if any of you have been to Vegas before but there are these guys that hand out pornographic cards as you walk down the Vegas strip.  In case you don't get handed one, you can just look down and see these cards and the exposed women on them on the sidewalk where they've been thrown.  These card-pushers are very much in people's faces too.  I noticed that they were really giving Dan a lot of these cards (more then usual actually), after a while he would just take them and throw them away once we'd walked on.  I wondered if it maybe had something to do with the economy and it was a little annoying that they were so insistent.  We decided to go to the Planet Hollywood casino which is new (to me) and we were sitting down to get a drink when Dan said, "Tanja....my fly is down!  Did you know?" Ah hah!  That explains everything.  Now I know why they were giving Dan more than his usual share of cards.  I was pretty much walking down the Vegas strip with a pervert!  I could just imagine that they were thinking that Dan really needed those porno cards asap.  As a result of this mishap, Dan now insists that I look at his crotch frequently.....

 

We made it back to the hotel and Dan received a lot fewer cards.  The only thing we had to do was go to this "guest" function at the Tropicana where they had a free buffet and where they were drawing people's names out of a hat for cash prizes.  I thought that it couldn't be that bad.  Well...we were probably the youngest people there and the band was wearing lederhosen and singing polka music.  They also told really lame jokes between their songs (along the lines of "waiter...there's a fly in my soup") and they called themselves the "Dumkopfs."  No...I'm not kidding.  After all the old people got their names pulled from the hat, we headed back to the casino and lost some more money.  It was a total blast.

Urgent Care Hell...

I was sick all this past weekend (and through most of this week)...I'd had a sore throat for most of the week before and by Saturday had totally lost my voice.  I drank a lot of Theraflu which Dan was kind enough to prepare for me and we spent Saturday hanging out around his condo and watching "Once Upon A Time In The West" which I highly recommend.  Basically I was a total dud though.  On Monday morning I was coughing up yellowish green gunk which I made the crucial mistake of telling my mother about.  I had already decided that I was taking a sick day...this time it was legitimate!  Well, she insisted that I go by urgent care and get seen by a doctor so that I could be prescribed some antibiotics.  I really really hate urgent care but I don't have a primary care physician so I went.

 

The urgent care I went to is part of the U of Arizona Medical Center/teaching hospital.  I was hoping that it wouldn't be so bad because it was a Monday morning...sigh...why am I always wrong?  I signed in with this ornery looking nurse person.  I don't know why they needed my social but she shook her head and told me that I sounded "horrible" when she heard by barely audible voice.  Which, by the way, was a source of endless frustration over the weekend because Dan kept forgetting that I couldn't talk.  He would ask me something from the other room and I would try to respond and end up having to get up and walk over to him...  I could only really whisper, which is what Dan ended up doing too -- I guess its a natural response when the person you're talking to is whispering.  Anyway, a person watching us would have thought we were a very weird pair....they probably think that anyway (now that I think about it).

 

I sat in the waiting room with all of the other freaks and waited my turn.  I started assessing whether other people looked sick enough to be in front of me...I didn't see any spurting blood and no one looked like they were going to pass out...maybe I should cough pretty loud so the nurses could notice me and move me ahead.  (There's also always the thought that these people are not nearly as sick as you are and they should just bow their heads in shame and leave the ER immediately in the face of your life threatening injuries.)  Of course that never works...they just ignored me.  I finally got to the triage section and they took my temperature and blood pressure and put this thing on my finger (which measured my heartrate).  I whispered my desire to get some antibiotics and the nurse just nodded and filled out her form.  (I'm going to assume she didn't hear me.)  She told me to go back to the waiting room.

 

I go back to a seat right in front of the nurse's station (hoping that I would be a thorn in their side that they wanted to get rid of).  There were two seats free to my left...and this small older woman sits in one of the free seats.  I'm busy texting people and looking through a 2 year old Better Homes and Gardens when this high pitched and extremely loud cough comes out of this little old lady.  It is sort of shocking in its volume and intensity.  How is that coming out of that little body?  I look up at her and she blithely looks back at me and gives me another one of those startling coughs.  I respond with a weak, sickly cough of my own (demonstrating that because I don't have the energy to blow the roof off a house, I am much much sicker than she is).  She coughs again and I realize that I cannot sit next to this bull horn.  I move over to another set of seats.  I watch people's faces in response to her coughs.  They look alarmed as well.  Then the women gets up and moves to the same bank of nagahyde hospital waiting room seats that I'm sitting on!  What?!?  I look at her (indicating -- with my eyes -- that I will resort to drastic measures if she follows me again) and get up and move again.  She doesn't follow me.  I can still hear her cough though.  Then they call me back to get all of my insurance information and put a hospital band on my wrist.  I'm impressed with how quickly the "intake" lady can type...you go girl.  She just looks annoyed though when I try to talk to her because I can barely be heard.  If I get her to like me will I get seen faster?....no chance....

 

I'm official now (with my wrist band) and I get sent back to the waiting room.  I warily look at the coughing lady and find a seat away from her.   Incredibly, she gets up and moves near me again!  What the hell?!?  I cannot take this any longer.  I looked over to the ER portion of the waiting room and notice some of Tucson's finest (Tucson Police Department...I'm not surprised if you're confused by my sarcasm...) standing around.  Maybe I can alert them to my stalking situation and they can finally earn their portion of my taxpayer dollars...  I give the lady the "stink eye" (its a technical term) and move to a crowded area of the waiting room and even ask a guy to move his bag so that I can sit next to him.  I tell him about the stalker and he just laughs...yeah dude...its funny until YOU'RE the victim....

 

After another while, I get called back by some guy with a clip board and he puts me in an examining room and leaves me in there but CLOSES THE DOOR.  Now...I don't know about most of you but I have a fear that I'm totally going to be forgotten if they close the door on my in these situations.  I get up and open the door and someone comes back a few minutes later and closes it again.  Ok...I get the message.  After almost an hour a male nurse comes in wearing a pediatric shirt (with pictures of cartoon characters on it) and tells me that I'm probably going to get a chest x-ray and that he thinks I have strep throat.  Now...he hasn't examined me but that sounds pretty reasonable.  Another hour later this very very young person comes in and introduces herself as a resident.  She seems so demure and shy and I feel for her....she obviously doesn't really feel comfortable meeting new people.  She tells me that she's going to examine me and make a diagnosis but that I shouldn't worry because an attending will follow up and make sure that she did her examination correctly.  WAY TO INSPIRE CONFIDENCE SISTER!  I tell her that I'm sure she'll do a great job...when did our roles get reversed?  She listens to my chest and looks at my throat (apologetically) and tells me that she thinks I have a virus and not a bacterial infection but that they're going to take a chest x-ray.  Right...just blast me with gamma rays on a hunch...how did that work out for you Madame Currie?...(does my fear of too much x-ray exposure reveal a little too much about my age and upbringing?).  It takes almost another hour for the x-ray tech's assistant to come get me and for the x-ray to be taken.  I looked at the x-ray over the tech's shoulder (as I came on the screen) and knew that I didn't have any issues with my lungs...I mean...it doesn't really take a rocket scientist to see clear lungs...  Of course, I need to wait almost another hour and a half to find that out.  The attending finally comes in tells me that I'm not getting any antibiotics!  She told me to buy some sudafed and some cough medicine....thanks....

 

When I exited through the waiting room, I checked around to make sure the stalker cougher wasn't there...thankfully she was gone.  I didn't want to have to employ any evasive driving maneuvers to get her off my tail on my way home!

 

Speaking of which, I went to my local Walgreens and had to pretty much agree to sell my family members into white slavery if I would use any of the 10 12-hour Sudafed caplets I purchased.  I didn't realize it but my boss, Terry Goddard, implemented this deal where you have to show picture ID and sign a register whenever you buy any pseudephedrine so I got suspiciously eyeballed when I wanted a simple 10 pack of the things.  Of course, this makes me wonder if meth causes your sinuses to dry up?  Does the sudafed lose its effectiveness in the cooking process?  I think it would be easier to just buy some meth for my congestion...

MOCA Gala

I've been partying like a rock star...actually not like a rock star...like someone who had two parties to go to in two weeks.  This past saturday I went to a "gala" for the Museum of Contemporary Art in Tucson, Arizona.  It was black tie optional so I chose the option of not wearing a black tie...actually Dan chose that option.  It honored local geniuses and there were really interesting artists and one fellow involved in the Mars lander there.  Pretty cool.  By the way, the Mars lander is a pretty big deal out here because of the University of Arizona's substantial involvement with that program.  They put it on billboards and everything.  I've learned a lot about the U of A from those billboards actually.  They also perfected the artificial heart, they invented tree ring counting or something and they did something with pima cotton.  Yahoo!  Oh yeah, and their men's and women's swimming teams were national champions this year.  Billboards are highly educational.

 

First, let me tell you about the shirt Dan initially brought up to wear.  It was made from some type of polyester blend sateen material and it was deep, dark purple.  Yes...you read that correctly.  It looked like something that Tony Soprano would wear.  The tie options he brought only made it look more like a selection from Mr. Soprano's wardrobe.  Dan played golf with some buddies on Saturday morning so I took his shirt to my mother's house -- because she really had to see it to believe it.  My brother was there and we all agreed that I needed to get myself down to the mall to rectify that situation immediately.  I mean, I could probably avoid standing next to him for a long time but eventually people would figure out that we're together....  I went to Banana Republic and, with my brother's substantial input, bought him a pale grey shirt with a really cool tie that had lavender and purple stripes (trying to tie in his earlier choices).  To his great credit, Dan was happy to wear our selection and he looked very handsome.

 

The gala was on the rooftop of a downtown garage.  You parked under the party and got a little red "superball" as your proof of admittance.  When a few people asked us what we were supposed to do with the superballs, Dan told them that at midnight we were all going to throw them off the roof at cars below.  Ahhh Dan does not disappoint!  After getting our balls (that really doesn't sound that great), we headed to the elevator but not before we saw this woman who had the most enormous fake breasts I've ever seen!  I mean, these things were so large they looked painful (because her skin looked like it was stretched to its limits).  Of course, she was wearing something that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.  I tried to fake taking a picture of Elizabeth and Autumn where I would focus on her chest and blur out their faces because it was that unbelievable.  Unfortunately she moved before I could snap the shot...damn.  The stuff of legends...

 

The rooftop was really cool.  I also mean it was cold.  Fortunately there were a lot of heat lamps around and I, being a thin skinned West Coaster these days, planted myself near one while Dan got drinks.  Dan had to be the groundbreaker in the smoking department because there really was no place for those guys to go.  Although, when you're on a rooftop can't you smoke anywhere?  There's probably something about being a certain distance from the building but this building is a parking garage...oh well.  He found a corner and started a trend.  My nicotine addicted trendsetter.

 

When we were told to take our seats, I was pleased to know that a heat lamp was right beside me and my mother was on the other side.  Dan was opposite me on the table and we had to lean over and yell to talk to each other...making conversation a bit difficult.  It was a fun time though although the acoustics of the roof of a parking garage in downtown Tucson are not very well suited to hearing speeches.  Something that had never occurred to me before.  Afterwards Dan and I met some of the local geniuses and, by touching their hands, hoped to receive a little of their wisdom and geniusness(?).  We had a great time! 

Founder's Day

The Friday before last, I went to Founder's Day in Tucson with Dan.  On the drive over, I told Dan that he shouldn't be surprised if we run into several old grads who still can't get used to the fact that women go to West Point.  I mean...it's only been 33 years...how are they supposed to get used to something that new?  We arrived at the lobby area and I can see that most of these guys graduated in the late 40s and 50s.  Yes...it was an old crowd.  I check in at the registration and fill out our nametags.  I put my name and '87 (denoting my class year) on my nametag and simply put Dan's name on his nametag.  Well, I start to notice that a lot of older ladies in this crowd have nametags on with a class year on it...ok... I don't know if I mentioned this before but a lot of grads' wives (especially in the older generations) walk around and act like they also went to West Point and they usually know more about my school and its history than I do.  I knew immediately that they would all assume that I was wearing my husband's class year on my name tag.  I spot the bar and gesture for Dan to come over with me.  We're definitely going to need drinks.  On our way there these two older fellows (class of '48 and '56 I think) stop and introduce themselves to Dan.  They ask him what class he was and he tells them that he didn't go to West Point and he points to me and tells them that I did.  They both shake their heads and say "I just can't get used to that."  REALLY?!?  Dan just smiles because he can't really believe these guys just said that to me.  Of course, Dan also likes to push my buttons so he responds with a quick "The Corps has..." and they all nod in agreement.  I tell them all that we need to get a drink and yank Dan away....before I kill him.  Dan couldn't stop laughing all the way to the bar.  Sometimes he's a total ass.

 

I'm not sure whether I explained the expression "The Corps has...." to you guys but it is basically what everyone who graduates says about West Point once they've left.  It loosely means that the Corps has gone to shit because things aren't nearly as tough as they used to be when the graduate was a cadet.  The minute I drove out the gates after graduation, I leaned over and told my brother (sitting in the passenger seat beside me) that "The Corps has..."  So...Dan knew this background and the fact that he said it at that time (and got the response he did) was pretty hilarious and ironic.

 

After I have my drink, Dan and I run into our "old friends" again and they want to know all about Dan and what he did in the Army, etc.  I was just an ornament.  I quickly found other people to talk to but Dan had a great time with those two wack jobs.  So crazy.  I guess that's why we go to Founder's Day though, to remember how nutty the school was....right?

 

When we sat down at our table, there was a potential new cadet sitting at our table with his family.  I, of course, put the fear of God in him and told him that he would be lucky if he lived through his first summer...then I quoted Nietzsche.  No...I told him that he needs to remember never to give up and that he's going to fail a lot at West Point but that he should "fail forward" and learn from his mistakes because they will only make him a better officer and better person.  I told him that most people who go to West Point are big successes in life before they go there and a lot of the people who leave early can't handle the failures and challenges they encounter.  I told him that failures prepare you the best for life and that he would never grow until he failed a couple of times.  West Point is the place to do that and I said not to be too hard on himself and doubt his abilities because he faces challenges that he can't necessarily overcome on his first try.  I told him that he would never regret his decision to go to West Point and that he'd cherish the friends he made there for the rest of his life.  Then I told him to get in good shape -- because he looked a little skinny and weak.  He told me that he was competing in some Shakespeare Festival in NYC the next week and I told him to keep that information to himself when he gets up there...

 

They had the usual toasts to the President, the Army, the Corps and then some grads told us stories about their WWII experiences.  It was pretty cool.  I guess that covered the oldest grad speech because there wasn't one officially.  Some LTC from West Point next spoke with a power point presentation showing various facilities, sports achievements and the number of Rhodes Scholars, etc. (the usual hype).  Then the legitimate youngest grad spoke (Class of 2008), still wet behind the ears and calling us all Ma'am and Sir.  He had 5 reasons why "The Corps Has..." but he ended up saying something at the end of each one to the effect of "so I guess the Corps hasn't for that reason..."  Whatever.  His last one was that they only take the IOCT every other year now.  WHAT?!  I immediately yelled "And they still let you graduate?"  (Dan found this highly amusing...he was also continually supplying us with alcohol from the bar at this point.)

 

The IOCT is the Indoor Obstacle Course Test and it is a grueling tradition at West Point.  It is held in one of the old gyms and it's rumored that they use a special machine to suck out all the oxygen in the gym before the test.  I believe those rumors.  They also (used to) have bucket at the end of the course where you could throw up...because you inevitably wanted to....sometimes just looking at the bucket would do ti for me.  There was also the distinctive hacking cough you would get once you finished the test.  But first let me tell you what I can remember about the test.  You start by stepping through a bunch of tires and then you jump over a pommel horse.  You run over to "The Shelf" which is where a lot of people fail.  It is basically a large wooden shelf about 8-9 feet off the ground that you need to jump up to and pull yourself onto.  I was never able to do it the conventional way (which was to swing your feet to the side and get your knee over the edge and pull yourself over), I just pulled my feet up and directly through my hands and wormed my way up that way.  More than a few instructors tried to get me to do it the "approved" way but my way worked and I was sticking with it (and there were no rules saying that I couldn't do it my way...I asked).  After you got on the shelf, you had to jump over the railing for the elevated track and jump onto this suspended pole with railings which were just a little longer than arm's length away from each other (so you had to sort of leap between them while up in the air) and then get back down on the floor.  You jumped through a tire held by a rope feet first and then ran along a balance beam (the olympic regulation kind) and jumped down (or dismounted), did a somersault and then had to make it over a wall.  Now this wall required a running start because it was also about 7-8 feet high and you needed all the power you could get to push yourself up and over it.  Once you made it over that, you had to go across a set of monkey bars (with sweaty hands...) and then climb up a rope to get back to the level of the elevated track.  Once you got up and climbed over the railing, an instructor handed you a medicine ball and you had to run a lap, then you dropped the medicine ball and he handed you a baton and you ran another lap and then you dropped the baton and ran almost an entire other lap au natural (without anything to hold...your clothes were still on).  Then you threw up and wheezed for hours and hours.  How could they possibly eliminate that annual tradition and make it biannual?  Well...the Corps definitely has Mr. 2008!

I'm not the youngest grad anymore!

I'm pleased to report that there will (likely) be no heart attacks or other horrible effects from the youngest grad speech on Friday night because I am no longer the youngest grad at the event!  A 2008 grad registered for the dinner so I can just drink, joke, do secret handshakes, etc. without any concerns that I'm going to offend the sensibilities of these guys en masse.  I'm sure I'll offend plenty individually....