Fortunately, it's headed for Galveston and Houston areas, which haven't had as much of the soaking rains that North Texas has had lately.
But I'm glad I didn't wash my car, nevertheless.
My guess; we'll have 6 inches of rain here by this time tomorrow.
~~JD~~
Just heard on the radio weather forecast that the temperature will be a "Fall-Like" 86 degrees in San Antone today.
Gee, when I was in Chicago three weeks ago they were in a summer heatwave with 84 degrees and 70% humidity.
I'm just sayin' . . .
(Heh.)
~~JD~~
When I woke up at the hotel this morning the parking lot was full of these contraptions. Seems the local railroad is just a spur line of the Rock Island that goes solely to Centerville, and the locals get permission when the line is not in use to take their privately owned rail cars up and down the tracks.
No, I said that right. These folks have their own private rail cars to zip up and down the tracks, which must be some sight to see. There must have been twenty of them at the hotel, all heading south of town to get put on the tracks.
(And I thought fishing was weird . . . )
Left Centerville after breakfast with cousin Kelli again this morning. That’s a habit I could learn to get into. Kelli and I are so alike personality-wise that it’s really fun to sit and chat with someone who seems to agree with you so much on a personal level. I think Ariane (my wife), my cousin Nancy in Indiana, and Kelli would all get along great. We’ll have to arrange a meeting in the near future. A year is probably too long, but the most likely option. 
Next year we’ll drive up for a week of recreating and sunbathing on the shores of Lake Rathbun; visit the local cemeteries and Library, and get re-acquainted with the family I just found. (And here's Lake Rathbun from the air as I flew over it this morning at lower right).
Ariane had better watch out, or she might find herself falling in love with Centerville. They’ve got a Dialysis Clinic and everything; and I understand they’re having trouble keeping a Director for any length of time.
Hmmm . . . jobs and everything.
Well, we’ve been saying for years that some day we’d rent an RV and go somewhere. 2008 may be that year.
Just a note for Julian’s benefit; I even found a Murphy USA gas station to fill up the rental Toyota (which was ‘waaaaaaay too small for my six-foot frame) on the way back to the airport. The “Tour of America’s Finest Wal-Marts" ™ continues!
I don’t know who designed the Des Moines airport, but it’s certainly not like other airports. For one thing, they’ve eschewed the usual stairs-and escalators thing for long sloping ramps, which is a literal pain in the calves! Add to this the very, very long way to walk to get anywhere and you have a full-fledged aerobic workout for the tired traveler.
Plus the first thing you notice when deplaning is the wet spots in the carpet where the roof leaks when it rains. That’s always a nice touch.
Add to that the early 1980’s “Star Trek Next Generation” décor, and you have a very dated, dilapidated, tiring layout.
Managed to catch the first available flight to Dallas, and the view was tremendous; so much so, I made a video of it:
Lots of pretty, fluffy clouds and deep purple shadows for contrast. Too beautiful, really; God's gift to soothe the savaged soul.
Or maybe just bad weather for Oklahoma. Depends on your perspective, I guess.
Got back about 3:30 pm, just in time to make church tonight and drop Julian off for his Study Group. It's a pretty weird Study Group; he does Physics all afternoon, then they practice what they've learned by going roller skating. Somehow, I don't think that would have qualified as Lab Time when I went to school . . .
So now I'm doing laundry and getting ready for work in the morning. Good Stuff. No Place Like Home, Don'tcha know!
~~JD~~
***Updated: 9/08/2007 6:00 am***
We buried my father today.
I keep waiting for the realization to hit that he;s really gone; but he was in-and-out of my life so much I'm used to this kind of "disappearance" of his. This "missing-him" feeling is so usual for me, it's like an old sweater -- worn but comfortable.
I opened the day with breakfast with my cousin Kelly at the restaurant he used to work at -- a little hole-in-the-wall off the town square in Centerville called the Tuscany (and was called the "Smoke Shop" when he worked there.) We talked about him, about his annoying habits, his good (and great) points; the times he was there when he needed him, and the times he wasn't.
And then the power went off all over Southern Iowa -- everywhere.
A word of explanation. Dad was a child of the Depression, and had it literally beat into him that electricity costs money, and to turn off the lights when you leave the room. So frequently I'd be in a room with him and he'd get up to use the bathroom and he'd shut off the lights when he left. Two seconds later he'd realize what he did, yell "Sorry!", and turn the lights back on again. Happened ten thousand times if it happened one, right?
So here we are, my cousin Kelli and me, talking about my Dad, and the lights go out for two seconds in Centerville. And not just the lights -- my cellphone rebooted, Kelli's went off entirely, and my cousin Jim reported his car radio turned itself off as well as he was driving.
Somewhere, my Dad was yelling "Sorry!" and laughing his butt off.
The service was at 10:00 am, and about twenty people turned out, which really surprised me. Both of my sisters and I showed up, as well as my cousins Jimmy and Kelli; Aunt Joanne and her husband John; wife #9 (Lana) with her entourage of four; and several regular customers from the restaurant he used to work at. My Dad was a very personable and pleasant person (when he wanted to be, of course) and could be very generous and giving and caring (when he wanted to be.) He had said to me as recently as two weeks ago when I last saw him that he wasn't sure he wanted a memorial service "since the line to piss on my grave would probably be several blocks long and tie up traffic."
And I had agreed with him. He could certainly be annoying, rude, and downright terrifying when he wanted to be as well, as his nine wives can attest. (Mom was both #3 and #7 -- the only one to last into double digits.) I wore my blue polo shirt with the embroidered Chicago Cubs logo I got the last time I was at Wrigley Field. My cousin Jim wore his Cubs tie. Dad would have liked that.
Dad was cremated (that's him on the left in the mahogany cremation urn) and interred into the cemetary next to the grandfather Espy he loved so much.
After the ceremony was completed my cousin Jim nudges me. He says, "Hey John -- let's sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." At first I thought he was crazy, but just that suddently it came to me -- somewhere, he was laughing about it, and loved the idea. I bumped into the ghost of my father, and he was singing.
So Jim, Kelli, and I sang "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" and most of the people joined in, too. I think if it's good enough for Harry Caray's funeral, it's good enough for my Dad's.
I stayed after everyone had left and helped the funeral director place the urn into the ground. I literally buried my father today.
Afterwards I spent about a half-hour in the cemetary doing some legwork by photographing headstones of relatives I never knew but heard so much about. It will help my genealogy research immensely, and gave me time to walk and process the moment.
My Dad used to love to do jigsaw puzzles, and this is the one he was working on when he died. My father's life; a puzzle left unfinished.
So we finished up moving all the furniture out, and Aunt Joanne will finish cleaning the apartment this weekend so it can be rented next week. Job well done, I think.
One bonus for the afternoon; during the cleaning of the apartment we found $40.00 he had squirreled away in a book and forgotten about. So we trotted down to the restaurant he used to work for, and he bought us dinner, as he had done so many times before. Once again, I bumped into my father that day without his actually being there.
As I stood at my Aunt Joanne's house saying goodbye, I told her about the power failure that morning and how Kelli and I had been talking about Dad at that very moment. No sooner did I mention his name than the automatic light in the driveway went off -- even though there were four people milling around the driveway at the time.
Took almost a full minute before it came on again. Again my Dad was present, without even being there. I could almost physically hear my Dad was yelling "Sorry!" and laughing -- again.
Heading back in the morning. I think I've had enough of my Dad for the day. I keep tripping over his memory, it seems. I said to Aunt Joanne as we left that I keep waiting for him to walk through that damn door. She did, too.
~~JD~~
Appetizer: Using only one word, how does grocery shopping make you feel?
Serendipitous. How's that?
Soup: What is your favorite part about the season of Autumn?
That I live in South Texas, where it doesn't get cold. Seasonal Change is highly overrated.
Salad: Have you ever had any bad experiences online?
Oh yes. For some reason I tend to attract trolls and inflame them. I've had to rename myself to stay on a few boards I like. It's almost funny.
Main Course: Name three things that make you happy daily.
God; my Wife (the lovely and gracious Miss Mommy, whom I don't deserve), and my son, the Wonder Boy. What else do I need?
Dessert: What one household cleansing or organizing item would you not want to be without?
Febreze. If you have animals, you can't live without this stuff. Actually removes the smells, doesn't just mask them. Incredible stuff.
Eeewwwww! I'm having Febreze for Dessert! Eeeewwww! just, Eeeww!
~~JD~~
(rinses mouth out with Listerine . . . )
I’m sitting in the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport as I write this. I’m on the road to liveblog my father’s funeral.
Well, maybe not the best idea in the world; but some things you just get one chance for, right?
We got on the highway to the San Antonio airport at 5:45 am. Wonder of wonders, Julian the Wonder Boy was up early and ready to dump Dad off at the airport and be free of his tantrums for three days. We made a quick stop-off for souvenirs for Aunt Joanne at Wal-Mart (continuing our tradition of traveling the finer Wal-Marts of the world), then drove down U.S. 281 to the airport.
As we passed the end of the runway just south of Bitters Road I feigned slamming the car through the barriers towards the runway lights to my right. “Oh Look – there’s the Airport!!!!,” I screamed malevolently.
Julian rolled his eyes in that teen-aged way that all teenagers seem to have instinctively – knowing full well that their parents are complete and total idiots, and that they know everything in the world. “There no exit there, Dad.”
“Well, there is NOW!,” I cackled.
Julian sighed, deeply. ™.
************************************************
Got into the airport a little after 6:30 am for my 10:10 am flight and checked in. Someday I want to meet Richard Reid, the idiot jihadist who tried (unsuccessfully) to light his explosive-laden shoes on fire and blow up a plane. I want to thank him – personally – for making me and millions of other air travelers have to partially disrobe to get through the metal detectors. Oh, and the knucklehead jihadis who made it impossible for me to bring my shaving cream, body wash, and/or antiperspirant onboard the flight.
Fortunately, I had brought half-empty cans of the above for the flight. Usually I buy brand new stuff to take – had I had to throw away $15.00 of brand-new supplies, I’d be really pissed right now instead of mildly annoyed.
So there I was at 7:30 am, waiting for my 10:10 am flight when I heard the melodious tones of the American Airlines announcer impart her wonderful wisdom that the flight for Dallas leaving in 10 minutes had seats available, and anyone wishing to go now from a later flight could board now.
Fancy that!
So I did, which is why I’m in the airport in Dallas at 9:20am – almost an hour before my regularly scheduled flight departs from San Antonio. I might even be able to get back to San Antone early and pick up a shift at the Ortho Hospital Saturday. That’s a GOOD thing when you have unexpected expenses suddenly, like flights for funerals and falderal.
And, as you can see from the photo, the bathrooms in Dallas are not only bilingual; they are also designated tornado shelters. Weird.
I think if the tornado comes, I do NOT want to die in the DFW men's bathroom. I'd probably die under the pile of U.S.Senators hanging out there.
***************************************
The shortest flight on record -- 52 minutes flat. The plane (an MD-80 for those of you who understand this lingo) went straight up, straight down, and BAM!, there we are.
Cool!
****************************************
We got in and I immediately asked the ticket agent when the next flight to Des Moines was -- "It's in twenty minutes. You'll have to Hurry -- it's in terminal B-9."
Two terminals away!
Fortunately they have this nifty people-mover monorail that got me over to Terminal B-9 about 1 minute before the 9:40 am flight left -- and it was delayed until 10:00 am.
Perfect!
Off we go again!
Whenever someone in my family passes on, I sit down and do a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing that allows me to vent a little, remember a lot, and sort of prioritize what I remember about them. Puts it in context; allows me to work through some stuff, and gives me an incredible sense of peace. I've printed some of those here; I may print some of those again later.
This one is for my Dad. It kept me up until 1:00 am this morning -- once these things get their hooks in me, it's hard to just put them down until they're done with me.
John Edward Long: February 13th 1928 to August 31st 2007. 79 years old.
Born to two parents who didn’t stay together long after his birth, he was taken by his mother, who promptly put him up in a Catholic orphanage. When he tried to get her permission to go through Catechism to please the nuns at the orphanage, she quickly yanked him out. He suffered from rickets due to being a small child in the Depression; an unwanted sidekick to a single mother trying to snag a husband. And after she married Ray Glynn, she had him shipped off to Mexico Military Academy in Mexico MO.
He responded by rebelling in his own semi-quiet way. A kid who just wanted a little attention; he stole, he got into fights, he excelled at sports. He edited the Mexico student paper, where he emphasized his own exploits. “LONG CARRIES THE MAIL” the headline read, even though another boy had scored all the winning touchdowns. He went home to Centerville for holidays, and got into fights with his father Roy. One of the fights was about a girl named Shirley, his first wife. He lied about his age and joined the Army Air Corps, where he was either thrown out for stealing cigarettes from the vending machines, or lied about his age to join and was thrown out for that.
He used his GI bill benefits to get a degree in accounting. He worked for the Austin Company and traveled to Albuquerque NM, White Bear Lake MN, King of Prussia PA, Los Angeles and San Francisco CA, Chicago IL, and Tehran Iran at various times. He was the financial Controller for the Sears Tower construction project in Chicago. There he met his second wife (also Shirley), who left him after six months. He blamed drinking. "If I'm sorry for anything, it's that. And the booze, of course, I just couldn't lay off the f***ing booze -- which was the real problem."
While building the Indiana General plant in Valparaiso Indiana he met a girl soda-jerking at Torbeson’s Drug Store. He told the story many times of how they met. He ordered an ice cream sundae from her:
“Whipped Cream?” she asked naively.
He made an anticipatory face, “Oh Yes, Please!”
She giggled and ladled the cream on top of the Sundae. “Crushed Nuts?” she asked.
He replied, “Oh no, it’s just my back hurting . . . “
Then he would laugh and laugh, amused at his own lascivious wit.
They married and had three children; my sisters and I. They divorced in 1967 after ten years of marriage, but she left him in 1963 after the birth of the youngest. Mom would never talk about it, but Dad had said one time after a drunken binge that he had made a pass at my Kindergarten teacher and accused my mother of being unfaithful. “Dumbest thing I ever did,” he’d said. "I just couldn't stop looking for that greener pasture. All those women I married, all those whores -- and the only one that was really worth a damn was your mother. I treated her like dirt, and she still was the best thing I ever found."
There were others after my Mom; Julie in Illinois; Judy from Illinois; Barbara from California. Then one day in 1976 he had re-appeared on our doorstep, knuckles bloodied and hiding out from someone. His few-day stay turned into fifteen years and his seventh marriage. “We were married over 25 years if you count them both together,” he said just two weeks ago. It was something he was actually proud of. After that, there was another woman in South Haven IN, then Lana in Centerville.
Nine marriages. That’s not counting Joan in California and the other assorted live-ins from time to time.
Was he a good father? No, but I think he tried to be. He paid $200 a month child support at a time when he was only court mandated to pay $15.00 a month. He tried to have us kids over to see us for holidays or vacations once a year. He drove us to Illinois in the winter; and flew us to Washington and California during the summer.
Did he love us? Who knows. I don’t think he even liked himself very much.
He could be maddening sometimes, but in fairness, all my memories of these problems seem to involve alcohol. He did a month for Public Intoxication in Valparaiso and made it sound like Summer Camp. He would scream and throw things, but was angry at himself and try to make it up to you when he sobered up.
Alternately, he could be the kindest, most generous man you ever met. He paid several thousand dollars to move us from Missouri just so he could see his grandson. He bough our Mom several cars when she had no transportation, and hired a truck to clean up the property (which was very dilapidated when we moved in.) There were other things too; buying annuities for his grandchildren, helping out neighbors who had been burned out; even paying for the college education of a secretary of his who couldn’t afford it.
Does it balance out? NO – not even close.
But as you get older, you may not agree with your parents’ choices; you may not like your parents’ choices; you may not even like your parents themselves very much.
But you understand. As you gain more experience and context, you understand a little more.
Dad, I understand. I don’t agree with all your choices, and I don’t like some of what you did. But I understand.
And some of it was . . . even a little bit fun.
Thanks, Dad.
One of my favorite photos, because it has my sister Rose in it too (very few photos of my sisters as babies have survived the years.) Dad's kicked back in the grass, and I'm kicked back laying on top of him. I actually remember when this was taken -- I must have been 4 years old or so.
I'd forgotten I'd had this one until I started looking through the old albums. Here's Dad, the uncomfortable new father with his (I'd guess) 1-month-old son uncomfortably on his lap. You can almost read his mind -- he's thinking, "oh CRAP!!! -- goodbye bachelorhood!!! I think he looks a lot like Dean Martin in this picture. (Well, this was right around the heyday of the Rat Pack, just post-"Martin & Lewis", so that's probably right.
My Dad told me once this was a staged picture -- him making a face while I cried about something. Again with the Dean Martin look here. Another of my favorite pictures of him -- but they all seem to be my favorite picture right now . . . 
The family standing around at my sister Rose's wedding rehearsal in May 1986. My Dad is at far left standing uncomfortably in the brown sports coat jacket.
Again the Wedding Rehearsal, with Dad at left avoiding the camera. He never got along well with Mom's side of the family, which is why I was astonished he showed up for this. 
I'm less than a year old here; so sometime in late 1958. Those pajamas are a stitch! I love the little cap.
I'm about 2 years old here; so this had to be about 1960. For some reason my cousin Nancy shows up in every picture taken that Christmas with that ukulele. My mother in this pictures look almost exactly like my sister Rose looks today.
~~JD~~
Yup, turning North -- just like I thought. here we go . . .
UPDATE (4:30 pm): I gotta go buy some bottled water.
UPDATE (5:45 pm): The sun has clouded over, the wind has picked up from the Southeast, and big fat drops of rain are falling. The rain bands being thrown off by this thing are enormous!
~~JD~~
Stay tuned. South Texas could see something later this coming week.
~~JD~~
John Edward Long, of Centerville Iowa, passed away Friday, August 31, 2007 in Centerville. He was born February 13, 1928 to Roy E. and Rose (Espy) in Centerville and had been a resident of Centerville for 12 years, after retiring from Valparaiso, IN. 
He was employed as an Accountant most of his life and a house painter after retirement and was a Chicago Cubs fan with an encyclopedic memory of the team. He was a veteran of the U.S. Army Air Corps in WWII, and traveled extensively in his work, listing addresses in Centerville IA, Valparaiso IN, Albuquerque NM, White Bear Lake MN, King of Prussia PA, Los Angeles and San Francisco CA, Chicago IL, and Tehran Iran at various times. He was the financial Controller for the Sears Tower construction project in Chicago. 
He is survived by his ex-wife of 25 years, Sarah A. Long of Valparaiso; his sister Mrs. Joanne Terrones of Centerville; his brother Richard “Butch” Long of Centerville; sons: John D. Long of San Antonio TX; daughters Rose E. Long of Valparaiso and Kathleen Long of Norfolk VA; and four grandchildren. 
He was preceded in death by his parents. In accordance with his wishes no memorial service will be held. Memorials may be sent to the American Cancer Society. Cremation arrangements have been entrusted to Schmidt Family Funeral Home. 641-856-8661
I last saw my Dad two weeks ago at his apartment in Iowa. One of the last things we talked about was when he said, "I just couldn't stop looking for that greener pasture. All those women I married, all those whores -- and the only one that was really worth a damn was your mother. I treated her like dirt, and she still was the best thing I ever found."
"If I'm sorry for anything, it's that. And the booze, of course, I just couldn't lay off the f***ing booze -- which was the real problem.""
Good-Bye, Dad.
~~JD~~
My father died today at 5:45 pm in Centerville, Iowa.
God have mercy upon his soul.
~~JD~~
Ariane had her biopsy today, and was a real trooper about it. I stayed with her the whole time (except surgery, or course).
Ariane is mildly mollified by my taking pictures for the blog. (Don't tell her I posted them!) We arrived at 10 am after I worked a midnight shift the night before, so pardon me if I'm punchy -- I haven't slept yet. 
Ariane came back after an hour and was pretty tired from the ordeal, but was out walking and ready to go home within an hour. We should have the results of the biopsy later next week (Labor Day Weekend, don't cha know?), but the two medical assistants who watched were strongly optimistic to us.
Happy Ending!
~~JD~~
Appetizer: Who is the easiest person for you to talk to?
God, no question. It didn't used to be that way at first, but I've found He's a really good listener.
Soup: If you could live in any ancient city during the height of the quality of its society and culture, which one would you choose?
Why in the world would you want to live in any ancient city? Poor hygiene, no air conditioning, terrible health care? These truly are the best of times.
Salad: What is the most exciting event you’ve ever witnessed?
The baptism of the first person I brought to Christ. I couldn't speak for half a day. After that, it was the movie "Somewhere in Time" with Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour. So terribly sad.
Main Course: If you were a celebrity, what would you do for a publicity stunt?
My own funereal. I have it all planned out -- a traditional Irish Wake with plenty of food, beer, and cocktails, and my cremated body in an urn they could pass around and reminisce with. (I'm actually planning on doing this too -- I think the traditional Irish Wake is very cathartic and healing.)
Dessert: What do you consider the ideal age to have a first child?
For the child, or for me? We had our son when I was 30, but my wife was 24 and suffered for it. My son, however, was an infant and that seemed just right for him. Generally I see less problems with couples in their late 20's / early 30's have happier families and better relationships. It makes me wonder how these teenaged pioneer families managed it!)
Here's an article from August 10th in the Asian Pacific Post details how apparently one of the greatest exports of the Phillipines is not just pineapples, electronics, textiles, and baskets, but . . . nurses!
In a Nursing Shortage! Imagine that!
Canadian hospitals are headhunting Filipino nurses working in Ireland, with offers of fast-track work visas, better wages and even low-interest-rate car loans. There are more than 10,000 foreign-born nurses working in Irish hospitals — a huge proportion of whom are Filipino nationals, Dublin media reported.
Filipino Overseas Ireland Ltd, which was on a recent recruitment drive, is hoping to attract 250 staff nurses for a hospital in Alberta. Quoting sources in the Irish-Filipino community, a hundred nurses based in Irish hospitals signed up to work in Canada at a recent recruitment fair. The steady exodus has led to the magazine Filipino Forum running a lead feature titled “Goodbye Ireland.”
To date, very few Filipino nurses have been awarded citizenship in Ireland, even though many came here almost seven years ago. “Very few have long-term residency, which is also only temporary. Even the first batch [of nurses] still haven’t got citizenship,” points out Michael Ancheta of Filipino Forum.
In stark contrast, the Canadian government allows brothers, sisters and parents to emigrate to Canada after four years. Other incentives include affordable subsidised housing grants as well as cheap car loans, local media said.
In Alberta hospitals right now, roughly 20 per cent of Alberta’s 26,000 registered nurses are in a position to retire, creating a scenario for a serious shortage of nurses. There’s also a new provision that allows nurses considering retirement to work part time and still get full contributions to their pensions.
The nurse crunch is also being faced elsewhere in Canada. According to a 2004-05 government health report, there are 1,260 nurses per 100,000 people in Manitoba, 1,172 nurses per 100,000 in Saskatchewan, 1,020 nurses per 100,000 in Alberta and 823 per 100,000 in B.C. All across Canada, there’s 1,004 nurses per 100,000.
“But it’s not just Filipino nurses who are leaving. In the past eight years, about 12,000 Irish nurses have left for places like Canada.”
So, nurses leave the Philippines for a better deal in Ireland. Then, nurses start leaving Ireland for a better deal in Canada. What's next? I don't know but it's worth mentioning that nurses get permanent residency visas upon arrival in the U.S.
I read with a great deal of amusement that Medicare is going to start refusing to pay for hospital acquired infections, which has sent shock waves through the medical community. as many as 10 to 25% (and some surveys say even more -- up to 40%) of everyone that enters a hospital will leave with an "Nosocomial" infection-- an infection they contracted in the hospital that they did not have before entering.
And it happens a lot. A LOT.
The reason I mention this at all is I got waylaid yesterday by that Performance Improvement guy. He seemed shocked that I was so "vociferous" about washing -my -damned -hands!
Well, frankly, I'm astonished that more people don't get sick, considering as little as most nurses wash their hands. Nurses know the Acronyms MRSA (Methcillin Resistant Staph Aureus), C-Diff (Clostridium Difficile), and VRE (Vancomycin Resistant E-coli) -- as well as that they were created by the overuse of antibiotics (MRSA and VRE in the hsopital setting, and C-Diff in Livestock.) Yet few realize (or WANT to realize) that every one of these organisms is vulnerable to two simple items readily available to every nurse every day:
Soap - and - Water.
I shower every night when I get home. I shower every morning before going to work. I wash my hands after any patient contact, before eating, and after the restroom. I've even been contaminated by MRSA before -- and got rid of the bug very simply.
Soap - and - Water.
I watched one nurse this afternoon wash her hands a total of three times the entire day. The sad part is, she was the only one I saw (besides myself) that washed her hands more than once the entire day! The main sink in the Nursing Station was DRY every time I came to wash my hands -- which means I was the only one using it all day.
So Medicare won't pay for hospital-acquired infections anymore?
Good for them. Maybe hospitals will finally get serious about employees washing their hands.
Eeeeewwwwwwwwww~
~~JD~~
Appetizer: Say there’s a book written about your life. Who would you want to narrate the audio version?
Marcel Marceau? I think if there's ever a book wsritten about MY life, it'll be an abnormalpsychology textbook -- no audiobook necessary.
Soup: Take the letters from your favorite kind of nut and write a sentence. (Example: Perhaps every avenue needs understanding today.)
People have favorite kinds of NUTS? Really? That just seems rather silly to me.
Salad: If you could go back in time and spend one week in another decade, which decade would you choose?
I wouldn't need a whole week. I'd go back to the 1950's and buy 100 shares of Xerox. or the 1970'a and buy 100 shares of Microsoft.
Main Course: Name a song that brings back memories for you.
Anything by Boston, from any album. I've just loved their harmonies mixed with the heavy-metal sounds of the steel guitars.
Dessert: Do you prefer to wash your hands in cold water or warm water?
Ah, finally a NURSING question! You should always wash hands in cold water -- not necessarily freezing, but tepid to cool. Warm or hot water removes the essential skin oils and causes micro-fissures to form on the skin, which forces any micro-organisms you were trying to remove into the skin and can cause infection. So washing with hot water actually doesn't kill the germs -- it gives them a place to live and reproduce!
Deleted a few things, rearranged a few others; and changed the layout entirely. That's the beauty of Blogspot; you can just change the entire layout with a click of the button.
The previous layout was a bit confining and limited my ability to post pictures -- you could put one picture in a column, and that was about it -- followed by another picture, and another; etc. This new layout lets me put two side-by-side. And it allows me to showcase the wonderful Day by Day comic strip in it's full glory.
I'm still working on the colors, though. You might see a few more tweaks over the next few weeks or so. As Douglas Adams liked to say, "Don't Panic."
~~JD~~
It's getting interesting around these parts -- like it usually does this time of year. This is the projected storm track currently for Hurricane Dean. The "cone" -- the yellow part where Dean is projected to go -- that's the part you pay attention to this time of year. Right now a High pressure area is parked over the southeastern U.S., which is sheltering south Texas from Dean's wrath. That's a good thing -- but still we prepare. If that High decides to slide off the Atlantic coast in the next 12 hours, everything changes.
** As I blogged last week HERE, The State has begun seeking volunteers for Nursing Home Evacuees.
** Just heard on Fox News the Alamodome has been set up for 13,000 refugees with enough food and water for 30 days.
** Evacuation Officials at the Alamodome have devised a method of color-coded wristbands to keep evacuee families together -- another lesson learned from Katrina.
** 30,000 barrels of gasoline have been shipped to the Rio Grande valley in case a massive evacuation is needed -- no stations will run out of gas like happened with the Katrina and Rita evacuations two years ago.
** As of last night both Ariane and I have 60 bottles of water in the backs of our cars.
** Today we pack our emergency kits -- just in case.
Because the truth of the matter is this -- if it's not Dean, it'll be Felix -- of whatever names of Hurricanes come after that. Hurricane season officially ends November 1st, and strong storms can and have occurred after that (remember the move The Perfect Storm -- that happened in November.)
That's life in the "cone".
~~JD~~
So I got a call last night -- the Skyscraper Hospital I like to work at is looking for someone tomorrow morning. Now, despite the fact this call comes at 7pm, I said "Sure -- sign me up." I go home, cancel my plans to re-arrange the living room and do our "Hurricane Packing" tomorrow (load the cars with water, pack emergency bags, etc.) and leave Julian home with an earache to pick up this shift.
So, there was some sacrifice involved is what I'm trying to say.
5am the call comes -- I'm canceled -- they have enough staff.
. . . . . . . Dammit.
Okay, well, no biggie -- I had plans, and didn't feel to good about leaving my sone home alone sick, but he's 16, right? We'll just follow plan "B" here.
Then at 6:45am, another call comes -- they do need you after all. Can you copme in Immediately? They'll even pay you a premium ($4.00/hour more) and pay for the 12 hours after all.
. . . . well, . . . . No.
See, this is the thing I hate most about Temp Nursing. You never know where or when you'll be working. You can get canceled at the last minute, and if you let them, they can jerk your strings back-and-forth all day.
Well, i decided not to let them do that today. Sick kid, Hurricane preparations to make -- and the last time this hospital did this, I was literally at the front door of the building when they called to cancel me -- got paid nothing.
Today they'll be short -- and I hope the stupid Night Supervisor that canceled me at 5am gets asked why they're short today. (With any luck at all, they'll hold her over to work my shift. Heh.)
