Showing posts with label Is nothing Sacred?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Is nothing Sacred?. Show all posts

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Womanly Ways


Having not had an un-spayed female dog in my house in many, many years, I had forgotten the joys of the female heat cycle. Aside from the general mess, I've come to believe that many of Jezebel's obnoxious behaviors are due to her heat cycle.

My floors have never been washed so often. Keeping this dog in pull-ups can be a full time job. She is an accomplished escape artist in more ways than one. I go through the trouble of cutting a hole in the pull-ups for her tail and slipping them backwards on the dog-voila, instant dog menstrual pads complete with tail escape hatch. She responds by first looking humiliated and then by adeptly stepping out of them. Note the down and back position of her ears and the "silent tail." This dog is not happy in her embarrassing panties.


There is blood splatter here that one doesn't need luminol to appreciate. It would make a crime scene investigator wonder just who I stabbed and where the hell I put the body. He'd be able to follow a trail Hansel and Gretel couldn't miss. Around and around the kitchen table in circles it goes, then makes a beeline from the front door to the back door and back again. It's everywhere and quite impossible to keep up with. If I happen to be cooking, this hound can barely sit still. She prances in circles in my kitchen's cooking area waiting for a morsel of something other than dog food to fall from the counter. Drip, drip, drip. At this time, the mess is almost more than I can manage in my germ laden state. It can't be helped for now, she'll be spayed in a month and therefore only has a few more weeks to embrace the joys of her womanhood.



She must be watched like a hawk in the yard. She'll not turn down a single opportunity to jump the fence in a never-ending effort to find conjugal dog heaven. She is shameless. Her tail is often high and to one side with her behind in the air. This place has turned into a canine anatomy and physiolgy classroom/dog brothel. I'm thankful we've not had inclement weather, at least I'm able to enjoy sitting outside with her. I don't know if it's our constant presence when she is out or if my makeshift head knocker on the gate is keeping her on this side of the fence. I have noticed her checking out other fence climbing options. I'll run out of garden tools if this keeps up.


She is INCREDIBLY clingy. An annoying feature to be sure. If you're sitting and trying to do something, she'll nudge her way in, tuck her head down and then stick her ass in the air. God I hope this goes away, it's beyond offensive. Nothing however, beats the disgusting attention to detail she is giving herself in her nether-regions. This, is something else.

I read this knowledgeable info from Pet Bits For You. The parenthetical comments are my own:

Do not take her for walks at all, but keep her confined to the fenced back yard for the whole time. (Ummm OK, I'll try, but this beast has a one track mind and is far more capable of escaping than I ever thought possible. She's not affectionately nicknamed Jezebel for no purpose-she's earned that name. Also, I am running low on garden tools.) The reason for this is that she will urinate frequently while on a walk, just to let the boys know she is available.(Does this explain the piddling inside the house? God, I hope so for her sake because I'll tolerate that bullshit just so long and then it's doggie prison for un-rehabilitated dogs for her.) The males will pick up the scent and follow her trail to your home.You really don't want a motley collection of canine suitors hanging around your house. (If that happens, I'm charging an entry fee.)

(Can Ellie Mae come out to play?)

This particularly joyful state of affairs has put the kabosh on this dog going to the mountains this week. Thats too bad because we were heading to the birthplace of black and tan coonhounds (a breed created by George Washington and Thomas Jefferson.) Perhaps she would have run into a relative. She shall stay home instead because her "condition" is just too much to handle right now. I know she'd love the ability to tree whatever her little heart desires, but her mating behaviors are just too unmanageable at this time. Besides, can you imagine the motley suitors following us from rest area to rest area all the way to Virginia and back?


Wednesday, April 16, 2008

5 and 10


This couldn't really have come at a better time as I'd just run out of interesting things to say. I've been tagged by expatkat to explain a few things about myself. I don't really know why anyone would want to know more, but I'll play ball.

What was I doing 10 years ago.

Well, I remember exactly what I was doing. I was returning to nursing after a couple of years hiatus during which I took care of my daughter Rachel. This job came at an ideal time and was perfect for me. I started working for a ginormous group of urologists who really did think they were all that and more. These guys were all egomaniacs and were led by the godfather, a doc of Italian heritage. This place was huge and at the time, had about 14 physicians (they now have more than 20), each one with his own set of nuances and demands (no girl docs at the time but this has since been remedied.) Since I didn't really want to work in a hospital, I sold myself a wee bit short and began working for this group at far less than the going rate for an RN. They paid me instead, the salary of what they felt an RN was really worth. I developed a clinical research department for them and had not a single clue what I was doing. I was what Bea Arthur in her role of Dole Office Clerk said Comicus was in History of the World Part I, a bullshit artist.

At the beginning of this job, there really wasn't much for me to do so I evaluated the documentation of the doctors on the clinical records of patients. Let me tell you, this wasn't an easy task. First of all the scribble gave me headaches, but secondly, their documentation was horrible. Almost nonexistent. You'd have thought these guys didn't do a thing all day long. I knew they did, they just didn't document the visit. They'd spend an hour with the patient explaining things then write one sentence to sum it all up. This doesn't please insurance agencies or help reimbursement. It fell upon me, the lowly RN to tell the almighty doctor how to write his notes. I can tell you now, 10 years later, that my ears are still ringing from all the times I got bitched out by these guys. After all, I am JAN, just a nurse. How dare an RN tell someone so important AND well educated how to do his job?

The research finally took off and before long, I didn't have to evaluate physician documentation. I was too busy raking in the bucks for research. Big bucks. On my lowly salary. Far less than the norm for most nurses in our area. By many thousands per year. You see where I'm going with this. I began to get a wee bit disgruntled over my pay and quit. I wasn't certain how to go about this since I knew that once one was in this group, one couldn't leave without the assistance of witness protection. I was a bit worried over this so I gave 2 months notice. I didn't want to leave them in the lurch and find myself swimming with the fishes so I left as delicately as possible.

I have many, many stories of my years as a dick chick (what girls in a urology practice call themselves) but I think a bit more time needs to pass before I can comfortably write my tell all: "As The Practice Turns: a Survival Guide for Dick Chicks Working in a 'Family Run' Urology Practice."


Five snacks I enjoy

I could just write whatever isn't nailed down but that wouldn't be quite true. It really does depend on the timing and the venue. I love creme brulee. I dream about the apple and szechuan peppercorn creme brulee I had at The Rattlesnake Club though it seems like it was a hundred years ago. It was amazing. I like humous, cold stuffed grape leaves, popcorn and a 31 flavors sugar cone with one scoop of jamoca and one scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I could go on and on but then I may give in and indulge these desires. I feel the weight piling up on my ass as I write this.

Things I would do if I were a billionaire

What wouldn't I do?
  • I'd sit in the counting house counting dollars instead of stitches. Wait, I'd still want to count stitches. I'll have to figure how to divide my time. Perhaps I'd hire a money counter as I'm not silly enough to hire someone to count my stitches for me.
  • I'd build a free retirement home for knitters complete with a yarn store, free dust bunny elimination services and gourmet meals. I'd hire the dessert chef from The Rattlesnake Club.
  • I'd give a ton of dough to many do-gooders. I like people who quietly do the work most of us should be doing. People who selflessly give of themselves for the better of all of us. My friend Jeanne would be the first to receive of my bounty.
  • I'd hire a ghost writer for my survival book as we've already established the counting house will take up my time.
  • I'd buy that island. Perhaps the retirement home will go there.

Five jobs I've had

  1. Waitress in a Waffle House. Midnight shift. Enough said.
  2. Transplant nurse. Kidneys and pancs (kidney/pancreas). Interesting. Demanding.
  3. Research Nurse (private practice and academic as I traveled the continent for Karmanos Cancer Institute for 8 months prior to 9/11. I then tired of going through security with an Arabic surname-I've been searched and searched and searched. Nope, I don't carry box cutters with my clinical monitoring gear or knitting paraphenalia.)
  4. Emergency Nurse--some day I'd like to tell you about the bone collector. Not Jeffrey Deaver's Bone Collector, but an in the flesh bone collector. Toes. His own.
  5. ICU Staff Nurse and all around fish bowl dweller.
  6. Mom
  7. Wife
  8. Chief, Cook and Bottle Washer
  9. Oh wait, that seems more than 5

3 bad habits

Only 3? Pushy, bossy, bitchy. Can you imagine? There are more, but I'll keep them to myself for now.

5 places I've lived

How about 5 places I'd like to live? I've never left the metro Detroit area. The most scary interesting place I lived was in southeast Detroit. I lived in a flat next to a crazy couple who used to routinely beat the shit out of one another. One night the woman chased her husband (both naked) down the street with a butcher knife in her hand. The police came and took him to jail. I still ponder that. Why did he go to jail when she had the weapon? What could he have done? I did and didn't want to know. These were the same people who would have wild parties, light things on fire and throw them at my dog. A Rottweiler.

5 people I'd like to know more about

Just five? My dining room table can seat 12. Kind of like the last supper. So on that note:
  1. Leonardo Da Vinci
  2. John Lennon
  3. Martin Scorcese (can we talk about your movie The Last Waltz?)
  4. Judas (what were you thinking?)
  5. The Harlot
  6. Wendy Bernard
  7. Cat Bordhi (can you show me how to whip through socks on circs?)
  8. Patsy Cline
  9. Robert Ludlum to write about the dinner with panache and intrigue
  10. Francis Ford Coppola (he may enjoy interrogating guest #4)
  11. The Rattlesnake Club dessert chef (may sit to eat after preparing the creme brulee)
  12. My old next door neighbor (I am in need of warrior tips)
I will be the waitress. I do have experience at these things.

Since this quick little journey into my mind took all day to write, I won't tag anyone. I'd love it if you'd try it out anyway since I do like to know a lot about people. Let me know when you're done and I'll come by for a look-see.

Your Friend,

JAN