Don't Tell Fire Hubby...

Dear Meth Heads...

Julie is the best, so I look forward to joining her Letters of Intent this week.

Dear Meth House,

Please decide…Meth house ~OR~ Avon Sales Home.

The sign out front of your run down home, near the salon I go to in downtown, says “Avon Sold Here.”

However the meth heads that sit in the front yard and come and go don’t seem to be the Avon type. Your bobble heads, missing teeth, and sores give you away.

Take down the sign or clean up your act (I do recommend the Avon bubble bath).

Poor Cleo, she’d roll over in her grave.

Signed,

The girl who doesn’t want her fond memories of Avon violated

Ding Dong...Avon Calling

Even though it's late Tuesday, I think I'll link up with the hilarious Rachel and Mr. Daddy for True Story Tuesday...head on over there for some more true stories :-)

When I was a little girl, the Avon Lady used to walk from neighborhood to neighborhood selling her cosmetics, jewelry, and so on…

Our Avon Lady’s name was Cleo.

I remember the pictures of the Avon Lady in ads. She was pretty and young.

Well, Cleo was, well, different than that. I will describe her as I remember her… 60 years old, wore a polyester house dress, had pantyhose that sagged at the ankles, and of course, very practical shoes. She had an accent that might have been southern, but I have not met anyone else that sounded like her since.

Cleo would walk up and down the cul-de-sacs in our neighborhood carrying her heavy Avon Lady bag. With each step she tottered to one side to counter balance the heavy load. She seemed a bit weary as she walked. But when she arrived at the door, she would perk right up.

We children would run into our houses to let our moms know that Cleo was on the block.

I’d peak out as she rang the bell, then Mom would let her in. Cleo would lug that big bag up the stoop and into the front room. Mom would sit on the sofa, Cleo on the loveseat, and I would take my place on the floor, elbows leaning on the coffee table, ready to see what was in the bag that day.

Without fail, Cleo would take out a perfume bottle and the magic words would come out…”Mind if I spray?” Mom never minded. With a push of a finger, perfume was sprayed on Mom’s wrist and she’d always said something like, “Oh, that is nice.” Mom was that way, very kind and hospitable.

Then, the bar of soap would be presented. Without fail, Cleo would say, “It’s very crisp, you know, because it’s French milled.” I’m certain it was French milled, after all, Cleo was an Avon Lady for over 25 years and she would be sure to know her product.

Oh, but my favorite part of the visit was when Cleo would take out the tiny white sample tubes of lipstick. Do you remember those? Just thinking of them brings me right back in time. Mom had six kids and there simply was no money for the luxury of lipstick, so these were little treasures. Mom kept those little tubes in the bathroom drawer and in her purse. Sometimes I would sneak and use some, so I could look pretty too.

The one item Mom did buy was the bubble bath. I can almost smell it now, it ‘s sweet, fresh scent. I’m sure that I used more than my share. I never could resist a bubble bath. I was spoiled that way.

Cleo was part of the fabric of my childhood.

Good memories.

Remembering Oklahoma City...

15 years ago today, innocent lives were lost.

I remember the day clearly...

The radio blared accounts of a huge explosion in Oklahoma City.

Chaos had ensued.

Something devastating had happened.

Sitting with my patient, we just stared at the television.

The horror of the day became more vivid as the smoke cleared.

The workers...

The daycare center...

Shocking.

How could this be happening?

We had no frame of reference for such an event.

Today, let's remember the victims of the Oklahoma City Bombings and their loved ones.

We honor their lives by remembering.

Tax Day Baby

As I drove off to work in L&D yesterday it dawned on me that it was Tax Day.

All of my little babies would have the "dreaded day" for their birthday.

I could only imagine the comments they might get when they say that April 15th is their birthday.

Then I thought, why not pick a name that matches the day

(Think Christmas babies named Noel)

Here are a few that myself and my colleagues (and of course Firehubby) came up with:

IRiS

Cash

Goldie

Refundo or Refunda

Monet

Don't you think this is a great idea?

I could be starting a new tradition here!

I am afraid...

Let me just make it clear...this is not an actual photo of my neighbor's dog. However, if I was brave enough to take a photo of my neighbor's dog it would look like this dog's twin.

Thank you Julie @ Fourson's for your blog carnival and the opportunity to vent!

Dear Neighbor,

I am afraid.

Your Pit Bull jumps over the fence whenever he chooses.

When he is chained in the yard he doesn’t take his eyes off of my kids.

Last week a tiny baby, not far away, had his testicles torn off by a pit bull.

Earlier in the year, children nearby were mauled by a pit bull, leaving a child on life support.

Story after story…

http://www.nbcphiladelphia.com/news/local-beat/10-Year-Old-Injured-in-Pit-Bull-Attack-84914747.html

http://www.cass-news.com/articles/2010/04/01/news/local/doc4baf93a6f3f13726508391.txt

http://news.sky.com/skynews/Home/World-News/Dogs-Maul-Girl-Siblings-Savaged-By-Mastiff-And-Pit-Bull-Mixes-In-Fontana-California/Article/201002115540931

http://www.latimes.com/sns-ap-us-dogs-attack-baby,0,499005.story

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/lanow/2010/03/pomona-pit-bull-attack.html

These were just a few from this year.

What if wild creatures did the same thing, like a mountain lion or coyotes? The search would be on and a huge public outcry would be heard.

When will it end?

In the meantime…I’m afraid.

I am sure you will defend your animal…

"Our dog is sweet."

"He would never hurt anyone."

"I trust him with my kids."

…every time a child, or an elderly person is mauled, these exact words come out of the owners mouths.

When will human rights prevail over animal rights?

When will it end?

Neighbor…I am afraid.

~Julie

Click here to read my firefighter husband's post with statistics and his own personal experiences.

Nursing at the County...Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite

As a student nurse at the county hospital, I spent many an evening and night performing skills that I had learned in class.

One night on a med-surg floor I was taking care of Mrs. Myers, my paralyzed patient who was sweet and talkative. She rested in this huge bed that was a giant metal frame filled with microbeads. The tiny beads continuously swirled beneath her with the help of the force of air being pumped in at the base. Between the beads and the patient was a soft fabric covering . The bed was designed to help prevent bedsores for patients who were not mobile.

When it was time for Mrs. Myers bedbath, I pulled the rolling table over the bed to hold my basin. One of my fellow student nurses stopped by and offered to help with the final step of my care, the linen change.

As we prepared to change the under sheet, we were shocked to see two cockroaches jump from the over-bed table into the bed! The other SN and I looked at each other with wide eyes and then immediately started sweeping our hands quickly over the bed, hoping to find the critters and knock them out of the bed.

Thankfully, Mrs. Myer was oblivious to what was happening. She remained relaxed and chatted away.

Rubbing our hands wildly over the beads, we smiled and nodded, acknowledging her discussion.

Finally, we saw the nasty critters and swept simultaneously at them at threw them into the air. They landed on the floor and ran out the door.

We quickly excused ourselves, closed the door of the patient room, and went out into the hall…

After getting over our shock and disgust, we laughed at the crazy place we worked. Thank goodness Mrs. Myer never was aware of her bedmates.

Husband,

Dear Husband,

I luff ewe.

Eye love you.

Isle of vue.

I love ewe.

Isla view.

Now everyone knows!

I love you :)

I'm joining Julie over at Fourson's for her Letters of Intent blog carnival...'cause sometimes you just gotta tell someone what you think!

p.s. I want you to know...if she hires you Honey, I WILL be invited to all of the office parties. Jus' sayin'.

A Thought About Parenting...

Today, my boy is missing out on something really big.

He just won't go with the program (read -school-here).

Discipline hurts.

Today, it really makes me sad that I have to keep him home.

But it's the right thing to do.

Some days (okay, months) being a mom is just downright hard.

I know it's hard for firehubby too.

And EVERYONE said parenting would be easy.

Goodness, they were so wrong.

(just kidding with the last sentence)

This is just too depressing...

So, here are a few pix of the kids first concert.

Paul McCartney at the Hollywood bowl last week!

oops, sorry honey, guess that Keith Urban picture accidentally uploaded

my bad ;)