Top 5 Reasons I Hate the Hospital

Against my better judgement, I recently spent a wonderfully pleasant afternoon at the local emergency room being poked and prodded. Cost: $250. Diagnosis: A shrug of the shoulders and a “Who knows?”

Sitting in my lovely hospital gown, I pondered all the reasons I hate hospitals and came up with the following list:

#1. Urine samples: Men have it easy while peeing into a cup (or in the woods). Women—not so much. After having received SPECIFIC instructions on how to pee into a tiny cup, I was sent to the bathroom–where I proceeded to pee all over my hand, arm and possibly my hair. A small amount made it in the cup.

#2. ER beds: The “bed” I was “resting” on was what they called a “pelvic bed” (which freaked me out to begin with), so the bottom half of the mattress was detachable. Well, it kept detaching and sliding off the bedframe. As I’m rolling down the hallway to the ultrasound room, the lower half of my body is hanging off the gurney so I’m walk/riding to the room. Classy.

(My bed wasn’t NEARLY this comfortable.)

#3. Ultrasound gel: First of all, NO, I’m not pregnant. If that was the case, I would have them take me directly to the morgue. Second, the gel they use to magically look at your insides is kept in below-freezing conditions until it’s just the right temperature to cause frostbite.

Nurse: “This might be a little cold.”

Me: “Really? No s***.”

#4. Being referred to as “middle-aged”: No more comment necessary.

(Me. Just a woman from the middle-ages.)

#5. Lack of diagnosis: A visit to the doctor, a trip to the ER, blood tests, urine tests, an ultrasound and various poky procedures: No clue.

Me: “Okay, then. I guess I’ll go home.”

Doc: “Make sure you leave the gown.”

Whatever. I paid good money for that gown.

Things Driving Me Crazy Today

I consider myself a patient person–usually. But some days things happen that test my sanity level, which isn’t high to begin with.

Things driving me crazy today include:

  • My cholesterol level is the lowest it’s been in years!! However, my blood sugar level is up. I’m convinced it’s all the sappy romantic-comedies my hubbie makes me sit through. Those movies have given me pre-diabetes–and probably tooth decay.
  • Driving along when a flock of geese decided to cross the road. (There’s a joke there somewhere.) My fellow drivers and I stopped to let the geese pass–except for one a**hole driver who raced down the emergency lane–almost taking out two geese.

  • Cashiers who put ONE item in each bag. (Also, cashiers who inspect everything you buy–and comment on it.)
  • Stores and restaurants that crank up the air conditioning making it so cold my eyelashes freeze together. (I’m talking about YOU Rumbi’s and South Towne Mall.)

(I shouldn’t have to dress like this in AUGUST!!)

  • People who are irritatingly smug.
  • That stupid ad folded over my newspaper. It is a half-page of aggravation.
  • My computer that I have nicknamed “Zen” because it likes to sit in silence and do nothing.
  • Counting calories, eating healthy, working out–and not losing ONE OUNCE.
  • Shopping carts with one wonky wheel.
  • The fact that someone thought “The Smurfs” would be a great movie. Whaaaa????

That’s it for today. At least so far.

Top 5 Reasons Utah’s Liquor Laws Are Screwed Up

Utah has a well-earned reputation for having screwed-up liquor laws. Thank heavens state officials are perpetuating that reputation. Our guv just appointed another non-drinker to the Utah Department of Alcoholic Beverage Control. That’s like putting a non-driver in charge of transportation. Or a virgin in charge of brothel regulation. Just sayin’.

Anyway, here are the top 5 reasons Utah’s liquor laws are a pile of crap:

1. The Infamous Zion Curtain: If we can’t see it, it doesn’t exist. That’s the philosophy behind the Zion Curtain law which states restaurants cannot display or make drinks in public view. This is to protect the children. In a world of violent cable TV shows, Internet porn and sexting, I think a child watching a beer being drawn is the least of our worries.

2. Few liquor licenses: Although our revered legislature has the power to magically create more liquor licenses to attract more drinking establishments to our state–they chose not to. Instead, they’ve capped the number of licenses available–but seriously considered selling those to the highest bidder. Ahhhhh. Our government at work for the small business owner.

3. Must eat to drink in restaurants: If you order a drink in a restaurant in Utah, you must also order something to eat. Have our legislators seen the obesity rates in Utah?? Do you think forcing people to eat more mozzarella sticks and buffalo wings is a good idea?? Yeah, they might not get as drunk–but they’ll be just as fat.

4. The closing of state-owned liquor stores: Here’s an idea: let’s take a profitable businesses and close up shop!! If you want to buy hard liquor, or wine, in Utah for consumption at home (or at work when no one is looking), you need to purchase it at a state-owned liquor store. Legislators thought it was a good idea to shut down 13 liquor stores, eliminate 150 jobs and shorten store operating hours–to save money. Even though five of those stores on the list had a combined sales total of more than $18 million in 2010.

5. No Advertising Drink Specials: As of July 1, local watering holes cannot offer drink specials. No more Tequila Tuesdays or Margarita Mondays. No more half-priced beer during the Super Bowl or discount mimosas during brunch.  Brilliant bit of marketing strategy there. Again, proof that our legislators have the best interest of small businesses owners at heart.

(Except in Utah)

Because our legislators grew up in Neverland (never drink, never smoke, never cheer for the Utes, never have sex, never gamble) they are punishing the people who enjoy an occasional drink at the end of a long day. I’ve never been a drinker, but I don’t think I need to impose MY ideas on anyone else. That’s like putting the inmates in charge of the asylum. Oh, wait. We already did.

Book Review: Short Stories

I’m really not a fan of short stories. I guess I’m just not intellectual enough to understand things that are brief and vague. I need things spelled out for me in novel length. However, the short stories in “Swim Back to Me” by Ann Packer were well-written tales of loss and heartbreak, and the day-to-day grief of life.

I know. Pretty depressing. And I’ve been consciously avoiding depressing books lately.

But Packer writes emotion VERY well and it was easy to get lost in her tales. As I always do, I found myself wishing each story was a full-length novel. Oh, well. Can’t have everything. And the first and last stories tie back together, which was interesting, but decidedly infuriating in its ending.

3 stars out of 5

In “The Imperfectionists” by Tom Rachman, American reporters, editors and employees at an international newspaper based in Rome struggle to keep their lives, and the paper, afloat. Each chapter highlights a different character and Rachman is excellent at creating in-depth characters in very few pages. Interwoven between the chapters is the history of the paper and its founders.

It took probably three or four stories to get into the book, but then I was hooked. I even forced Tom to read it. (I’m sure he’s very grateful.) Characters appear in each other’s stories and it’s fun to get different perspectives of each person. These stories will make you wonder what makes your fellow employees tick or what’s going on in their minds during their workdays.

Great read.

4 stars out of 5

Buckle Up

If you’ve driven past my car and I stared out at you from the passenger seat with a terrified expression, understand I wasn’t afraid of you–but of my chauffeur: My teenage daughter. In December, the State of Utah decided my daughter should be given a learner’s permit based on the fact that she’s breathing and a legal citizen.

One of her first questions: “When are you going to teach me how to text while I’m driving?”

“Hahahahaha! You’re so funny,” was my response. Until I realized she wasn’t joking.

For the last six months, I’ve endured scary left turns, close-call parking incidents, the freeway, two-wheel turns and four-way stops. I’ve aged 20 years since December and have prayed to every deity in the phone book. Moms are the original crash-test dummies.

(Mick’s first attempt at parallel parking)

Well, today, my baby turns 16. She’s passed her driver’s ed courses, done all the requisite driving (torture) with her mom and is ready (or so the State says) to take the keys to my car. All we need to do is go to the DMV, wait in line for a couple of days (don’t worry, I’m taking a book), pay a small fee (with additional fees attached), brace our insurance company and fill up the gas tank.

I don’t think it should be so easy. She’s 16 for hell’s sake! She can’t vote for president of the United States but she can hurtle down the freeway in a two-ton vehicle. God help us all. I’ve survived four daughters-worth of driver’s training. Now I just need to survive the next 50 years of worrying about them.

Must Dos for Summer

I can’t believe July is more than half over!! Summer just isn’t complete until I’ve accomplished each thing on this list. What are your favorite summer traditions?

Must dos for summer:

  • Sit in a park and read a good book.
  • Eat buttery corn on the cob and not care if my face is covered with kernels, butter and pepper.
  • Lay by the pool until my skin wrinkles like used pantyhose (I know, I know. . . skin cancer)
  • Hike to Donut Falls and eat donuts.
  • Sleep under the stars (I don’t mean stars like Johnny Depp. Okay. I do mean that.)

  • Sit by a campfire and make s’mores without catching the marshmallow on fire.
  • Buy lemonade from a neighborhood stand, and tip the kids $1 each. (I’m a big spender.)
  • Get fresh fruits and veggies from the Farmer’s Market.
  • Enjoy shooting stars (I don’t mean stars like Katy Perry. Okay, I do.)

  • Popsicles (Do you remember making ice-cube tray popsicles with Kool-Aid? I’d wrap the “popsicle” in a paper napkin that stuck to the cube, and I always ended up eating part of the napkin. Yummy!)
  • Grape-lime snow cones. (The drawback to eating Snow Cones from the ice-cream man: It’s hard had to bite them with my front teeth. It sends sharp pains into my brain. And as I’m eating the ice, the liquid leaks out of the cone and down my arms.)

Ahhh, good times.

Sleepless in Seattle

Day 1: May the Forks Be With You

My husband,Tom, surprised me with a trip to the Pacific Northwest for my birthday. (I think he was looking for a remote location to bury my body.) On Friday, we landed in Seattle and drove the scenic town of Port Angeles, Washington.

If you’ve never been to Port Angeles, then you have something in common with 99% of the rest of the world. It’s a small town on the Olympic Peninsula–and there’s NOTHING to do there (although I did take a jog in the hotel’s parking lot). But, this small town DOES have a claim to fame because scenes from a certain movie-series called “Twilight” were filmed there. I hate “Twilight.” It’s a movie where Kristen Stewart stares vacantly, mouth agape, and shakes her head each time she speaks. It’s a film where the men sparkle and werewolves don’t wear shirts when they’re acting human.

(Scene where Kristin Stewart “acts” like she’s going to a movie. Quality stuff.)

ANYWAY. There’s a scene in the movie where Bella (Kristen the Head Shaker) goes to a movie. THAT theater is in Port Angeles.  We paid $10 each for tickets to sit in a theater was laughably old.  I kept waiting for someone to take their place at a piano next to the stage. Although my husband is celebrity-obsessed (to clinically alarming levels), he didn’t take me to Port Angeles for  “Twilight” memorabilia (it’s also 50 miles from Forks, WA, home of Bella the Wannabee Vampire).

He brought me to Port Angeles because there’s a ferry that runs to Victoria, British Columbia. That’s in Canada for the geographically impaired. Which brings me to Day 2.

Day 2: Don’t Pick the Flowers

I don’t think the sun sets in Washington because when we got up WAY TOO EARLY to head to the ferry, the sun was already on its third cup of coffee–because EVERYONE in Washington drinks coffee. Even the pets.

We hopped on the ferry and voila (that’s French for “floated across the water”), we were in the beautiful city of Victoria. A tour guide named Mike drove us to the Butchart Gardens while regaling us with boring details about the area (i.e. median income, demographics, cost of gas–and his opinion as to why gas prices are so high).

My hubbie took me to the gardens to show me what REAL gardeners can do with plants. I’ve been known to kill everything within a five-acre radius of my yard–including rocks, asphalt and neighbor’s trees. But the gardens at this place were gorgeous!

(These will look great in my front yard!!)

Did I mention that my husband couldn’t walk because, the night before we left, our crazy-ass dog took out his knee? So Tom’s hobbling along, walking like he’s 80 years old. It was truly a “slow down and smell the roses” kind of day.

After returning to Port Angeles, we drove to Seattle where I ate my weight in salmon and sourdough bread. And then ate Tom’s weight in pound cake and Washington cherries. Tom rolled me to the car and we drove to a quaint little ex-convent to spend the night.

Now let me ‘splain. There were NO luxuries in our room–including power sockets in the bathroom. We were lucky to have sheets on the bed. And I kept thinking a nun’s ghost was going to appear in the bathroom mirror behind me. And because it was a convent, Tom got nun.

Day 3: Eat, Shop, Play

We started our final day with breakfast at Toulouse Petit, a fantastic French-themed place where I had eggs scrambled with Dungeness crab and asparagus. I want to live there! Then we headed to the Space Needle, which is basically a really tall lightning rod that serves drinks at the top.

The Space Needle was built for the 1962 world’s fair and reminded me so much of The Jetsons that I kept looking for the George and Astro dogwalk.

Then it was off to Pikes Public Market to battle our way through thousands of people looking for fresh salmon, cherries, hand-crafted jewelry and “authentic” souvenirs. I ate crab cakes, chocolate-covered cherries, nectarines, French fries and dark chocolate. I’d still be there eating if Tom hadn’t pulled me away from the market (I think I bit him).

Sadly, we went to the airport to return to Utah: Home of Wind.  I finished off my trip to Seattle with a frozen yogurt parfait, Swedish fish, Sbarro veggie pizza and pretzel M&Ms while waiting for our delayed flight to arrive. We pulled into our home around 2 in the morning and woke up with vacation hangovers resulting from too much good food and too much money spent.

Well worth it.

Top 5 Reasons to Avoid Getting Old

Yep. Today’s my birthday. As much as I love presents, cake and adoration from my friend and most of my family members, I don’t want to get any older. But I don’t want to die, either. Kind of a lose-lose situation.

I haven’t reached the hearing aid, support hose, wandering off, false teeth, stool softeners, adult diapers stage. Yet. But it’s getting closer. I’m in my tweens–those years between childbirth and menopause–just waiting for my body to collapse in on itself like dying star.

So while I’m not quite to the Jazzy-driving grandma stage, I’ve noticed some definite signs of my impending geriatricy.

#1: Memory. My mind used to be like a steel. . .what’s the word I’m looking for? But I often find myself standing in the middle of the a) kitchen, b) grocery store or c) freeway, wondering how the hell I got there, and what the hell I was doing.

#2: Wrinkles. I’ve been using face cream, moisturizer, sunscreen and sandpaper for years. I can’t BEGIN to image what my face would look like if I HADN’T been using those products.

#3: Gray hair. Is it true that for every gray hair you pull out, five grow back in its place? Kind of like dandelions? If that’s true–I’m screwed. Each day, more and more coarse little gray hairs are sneaking across my border, taking jobs from my natural hairs and not even bothering to learn the language. I need to put up a fence.

#4: Doctors/Injuries. Women of a certain age subject themselves to humiliating medical procedures (see “Top 5 Reasons to Avoid My Annual Exam”). My doctor says things like “as you get older” and “now that you’re aging.” I think it’s time for a new doctor, dammit. She’s concerned about my fiber intake, cholesterol levels and the regularity of my bowels. I feel like I’m living a freakin’ Metamucil commercial.

Plus, although I’ve been physically active for a couple of years (I walk to the mailbox–and back), I’ve recently noticed a twinge in my shoulder and aches in my knees. Maybe it IS time for that Jazzy. And I think I’m shrinking.

#5: Sleep. Or should I say, lack thereof. Maybe my mind is so cool that it has to think ALL THE TIME–especially at 3 in the morning. I turn off the TV, read, meditate, count sheep, take a bath and/or snort melatonin. Doesn’t matter. I’m awake–and will stay awake until 3:30 in the afternoon when I fall asleep on the couch with my head at a weird angle.

Age or die. Not really a choice. So I guess I’ll age–but I won’t go gracefully!

State of Emergency

In June’s Life and Laughter column, I discussed my plans to get prepared for emergencies: man-made, natural, teenage meltdown or low blood sugar. My 72-hour kit was sorely lacking in anything helpful, so I decided to start from scratch.

Luckily, those wacky wacksters at the Centers for Disease Control helped me out by posting their Zombie Apocalypse preparedness blog which really helped me prioritize my emergency kit supplies. (Ya gotta love a government department with a sense of humor.) (At least, I think they’re joking.)

ANYWAY. That made me think of other scenarios that could be considered an emergency.

Scenario A: You are invited to a last-minute flash-mob performance of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” Do you have creepy contact lenses? A red vinyl jacket with matching pants? Adding these items to your kit could save you from flash-mob embarassment.

Scenario B: Your children, neices and/or nephews are irritating as hell. A supply of pre-filled emergency water balloons (filled with bleach) can help rid yourself of these parasites.

Scenario C: Emergency See’s chocolates (self-explanatory).

Scenario D: You are traveling in the desert and come across a road runner. As everyone knows, dynamite from ACME is the only way to kill a road runner. A trunkload of this product will help for those last-minute hunting trips.

Adding these items to your boring food, water, first-aid kits and flashlights will really help any emergency seem much more fun.

Top 5 Reasons to Get Off Facebook

You know you’ll never do it. I won’t either. But if you’re looking for reasons to delete your Facebook account, here’s a few to ponder. (Note: it’s physically impossible to delete your account. Layers of pissed-off warning boxes jump at you when you try to leave and eventually Mark Zuckerberg–or it might be Jesse Eisenberg–will personally call and threaten your family if you continue with the Facebook account deletion.)

#1. I’m so tired of being poked. What does that even mean? Every time I get poked I feel vaguely uneasy and slightly violated. There should be a Facebook poking support group.

#2: Farmville, Farkle, Bejeweled, FashionWorld, Cafe World, Cityville, Happy Aquarium, Country Story, Tower Bloxx, Icy Tower, Tiny Castle, QBeez, Canary, Club Penguin and Puzzle Pop. To name a few.

I’m not going to water your crops. I’m not going to rescue your princess. I’m not going to collect your rent. And I think Farkling is illegal in Utah. I can’t take care of my own life. I certainly can’t save your imaginary one. Stop asking me for s***.

#3: I don’t know the majority of my “friends.”  Yeah, it’s cool I have hundreds of virtual friends. How many friends in real life? Three. And FB? Stop suggesting friends for me.

#4: Too much information!!! I don’t care who changes their profile picture or adds Pig Latin to their languages. Don’t tell me when you’ve had a bowel movement or that your cat is going in for nasal surgery. Keep some things to yourself. It’s called being mysterious.

(My cat before her nasal surgery. Disclaimer: I don’t own a cat.)

#5: Addicting Time Wastin’ Fun.  Why do I scroll through hours of past status updates or get excited when I see TWO people “liked” my post? Why do I click on photo albums, comment on YouTube videos and RSVP to events (circle yes or no if you can come to my party)? Because I’m an ADDICT. I admit it. I’m sure before you finish reading this, I’ll have checked my FB page 47 times to see if anyone comments.

I need help. Or maybe sugar. Yeah, probably sugar.

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