Classy N Stuff

(Written by Miss Grace)

This weekend, we:

• Drank vodka out of a water bottle in a CVS parking lot.
• Found myself on the wrong side of watching the sun rise.
• NARROWLY avoided an Everclear concert. At Club Disney (henceforth whenever you find yourself in a less than ideal situation, remind yourself, "Self," you'll say, "At least you aren't at an Everclear concert. In Anaheim."
• While ragging on said concert, said that I (Jenny) couldn't think of a single band I would rather see LESS. Ten minutes later, we've sort of moved on to a new subject, Turducken says, "What about Nickelback?" Touché.
• Watched this fight. And...um....enjoyed it? I (Jenny) don't like boxing. At all.
• Drove. A LOT.
• Changed in the street. As in, the kind of changing where you get naked. As in, the middle of the street.
• Some other stuff, but it's not seeming very clear just now.
  

A moment from our drive (redacted)

We spent a lot of time in the car. Having many conversations like this one:

[Redacted cuz it had a little too much work info in there]

Did you know that Jessica Rabbit wears a red dress? Jenny thought it was purple...

I wanna text you up

I recently had to change my phone number. Since then, every once in awhile I'll get a text message from a number I don't know saying something like this:

So I got c b a a b b d a d c c d c a d b d a b Tell me what u got.

Or,

I think num 17 is a not c right?

Today I wrote back: Wrong number... Maybe you should try studying instead.

Maybe they will?

NP WK!

Guess what? It's National Nurse Practitioner Week!

As someone who is currently in NP school, I've noticed that many people seem to be unclear as to the actual ROLE of a nurse practitioner. How is it different from a regular nurse? they ask. Why would you go through all this extra training and not just go to med school instead? Oh, you'll be able to write prescriptions... will you write me one for Vicodin?

Even though I answer people's questions and I feel like I explain the role of an NP pretty well, it's hard to know how to say it in a succinct, easy-to-understand way.

Until today, when I saw this:


YES.

So, in honor of National Nurse Practitioner Week I'm having a giveaway!

Remember this book? And how it helped me transform my kitchen? And soon, my bedroom? And then, MY LIFE?

Want one for yourself? With an AWESOME NP Week bookmark to go with it? Well here's whatcha do:

- Leave me a comment by TUESDAY NOVEMBER 17, telling me about the area of your house that could use the most help from this book-- I'm thinking "cluttered" or "disorganized" as opposed to "dirty" or "in need of redecorating" but whatever, really. I'll pick a winner in one of those fair, randomish ways people do and mail you the book + bookmark. And then you'll be happy because you won a contest and got a little something in the mail and you never win contests or get fun mail (or is that just me?).

For bonus entries:

• Take a pic of that area of your house and email it to me royaljewels dot feelings at gmail dot com. I'll post it here and use it for NaBloPoMo because I'm running out of ideas.
  
• Go out and hug your favorite nurse practitioner and/or nurse practitioner student. Leave me a comment and let me know you did. Honor system, I'll believe you!

Sound good? Happy NP Week!

Life's a Piknik

There was so much awesomeness from this weekend, even more than what the pictures show. But here are a few of my faves.







I really wish there was photographic evidence of the following: An unbelievably awkward cab ride to the Castro wherein Aman horribly offended the driver by asking, "so how's business?" Swimming + bloody marys + Cody wearing my short shorts. Eating at that restaurant on Saturday morn and realizing that NO ONE was seated around us because we were being so charismatic* and boisterous.** Jenny instructing the boys on the CORRECT way to pull a girl's hair.


*obnoxious
**loud

Grammar Lesson

Your vs. You're

Your= The possessive form of you.
As in: Your bad attitude. Your insane beliefs. Your inappropriate and disrespectful behavior.

You're= You are.
As in: You're spiteful. You're fired. You're not allowed to contact me anymore.

An example of both in the same sentence: You're trying to manipulate me and I will not play your games.

Bedroom: Before

The second section of my book on organization talks about making your bedroom into a sanctuary-- a "sexy, comforting, nurturing, inspiring, cozy, elegant, sophisticated, homey, fun, joyful" sanctuary. Apparently I'm supposed to do this in February. But then I was supposed to do the kitchen in January, so here we are. I'm going to move forward in the order of the book chapters, rather than the corresponding months.

Anyhow, my bedroom. I believe I may have mentioned that my apartment is rather strangely laid out-- it has a kitchen/hallway instead of a separate kitchen so that there could actually be separate bedroom nook in my 300 square feet of space. So my bedroom is tiny. You would think there wouldn't be much room for it to be messy or cluttered. You would be wrong.

The book invites you to consider your bedroom as it is now-- What do you like about it? What do you not like? Any quick, easy fixes you could do to improve it? Do you feel like the space truly reflects you? Is it full of things from your past that don't have as much meaning now? Are there old habits or tastes you still incorporate?

Picture your bedroom sanctuary in your mind, the book says. What does it look like?

I can tell you what my imaginary bedroom sanctuary does NOT look like. This:

The weird, too-short-built-in unusable desk/inconvenient shelf area:


A closer look at the desk and the drawers I have crammed underneath it. Also, my purse crate:


Those are all the boxes of childhood and random things that I brought from the storage room at my parents' house. I was planning to unpack and organize them. Yeah.

My bedside table:

Do you spy the book?

I do like that this table doesn't have drawers, because I think I would just cram stuff into them and pretend it isn't there. Also, I LOVE that lamp. It was in my bedroom at my grandmother's house when I was a little girl, then it was in the garage and didn't have a shade for a long time so nobody used it. Then, I, the genius, figured out that you could go out and buy a new shade.

My bed:


I LOVE my bed. I bought that fluffy blankie at Target at the beginning of the school year because I am ALWAYS cold, especially at night, especially in winter. And then I bought those jersey knit pillowcases. My bed is lovely and cloud-like and I love it.

I have a month to create a bedroom sanctuary. I'm thinking I might give myself a little extra time, due to extenuating circumstances. And that's okay because some of the book sections involve things like "Get your kids on board!" which I don't have or "Organize that cluttered garage!" which would involve me going down the my assigned parking space and giving it a thumbs up. But I'm excited. I had fun zenning my kitchen and it really seems like it worked. So maybe, hopefully in a month and change I will have a fabulous zen bedroom to show you.

Text Conversation of Magic

We are still broken. But it is also still NaBloPoMo. So here we are. This is a conversation via text message from yesterday morn.

Julia: Are you alive my darling??

Jenny: Barely

Julia: Where ARE you??

Jenny: In a gutter? Not oakland. And i just put on pants?

Julia: Oh my god come home

Jenny: Working on it? Aman is talking about a physics professor. How are you?

Julia: What the fuck why do you always text me things that will only make sense after I see you?!? I am good... hungover...

Jenny: Once we figure out where we are wanna get us?

Julia: Oh my god really I have to drive? I think that might be a bad idea. Oooh actually I will bring turducken

Jenny: I meant for car moving purposes? In awhile

Julia: Yes. But don't you want to shower and stuff before we go somewhere? Oh whatever I will come get u whenever u want... WHERE ARE U?

Jenny: In san francisco. South of you. We tried to come home but could not get inside.

Julia: Oh shit I am so sorry... why didn't you call me?

Jenny: I thought we called you but i was INTOXICATED. Actually we got into building but couldn't get upstairs.

Julia: Next time I will give u keys. So uh WHERE did you guys end up staying? I feel bad.

Jenny: The vagabond inn? Don't feel bad. Buy us breakfast!

Julia: Oh man... deal.

Jenny: Bring me my sunglasses when you come?

Julia: Ok... lemme know when.

Jenny: I don't think I can stand yet... also my giants shirt from my basket.

Julia: Anything else your majesty?

Jenny: No my darling. But ouch.

Julia: YES OUCH. Looking up directions... your hotel is located off many one way streets.

Jenny: Awesome. There's blood on the ceiling here...

We are BROKEN

But still posting dammit (even if it's the same both places)

Allergic to Compazine

The other day at Student Health I was asked by both the doctor and the pharmacist if I was allergic to any medications. Both times I nearly shouted YES!

Yes! Allergic! YES! WRITE IT DOWN!

I am allergic to Compazine.

ALLERGIC TO COMPAZINE!!!

I may overemphasize this just a tad.

But, journey back five or six years with me, will you?

...

It was the summer before my senior year in college. I was in Fiji. I had managed to convince a travel company that they should pay my travel expenses and in exchange I would take hours and hours of video of the countryside, the villages, the towns, the activities offered by the company, and then give them the raw footage. It was a pretty sweet deal (for me).

The places I stayed ranged from beach resorts to family huts in tiny villages. It was incredible. I got to travel all over the place, meeting all sorts of interesting people, eating nummy food, learning about the culture. But then I got sick.

Looking back, I guess it had happened slowly, I had been feeling generally icky for about a week. But the worst of it came on suddenly. One minute I was chatting with the locals, getting ready to go into the dinner hut.

The next minute I was curled into a ball on the floor shaking, sweating, vomiting, writhing, hobbling to the outhouse and then collapsing onto the floor again. I could barely speak, barely breathe.

I thought I was going to die.
No, actually. I was certain I was going to die.

Your appendix has probably burst or something.

aaruuuugh. Okay.

We can either take you to the doctor in the next village, or down to Nadi to the Emergency room, but that's 3 hours away.

Nadi. arrrrrhghhhhhha.

So down the dirt road through the darkened countryside we went. The driver and another staff member in the cab and me lying on a mattress in the truck bed. Every fifteen minutes or so the other staff member would shine her flashlight on me and I would give a weak thumbs up to let her know I was still alive. I lay on my left side, whimpering to myself. As we careened down the mountain, sometimes I caught a glimpse of the moon. The cloud shapes looked demonic. I am going to die.

We arrived in Nadi. The people (not doctors, not sure who they were) in the ER gave me some opioid painkiller and I passed out. The next day, I was diagnosed with Giardia.

So I was given a variety of antibiotics, more opioids, and an antinausea medication that I now know is called Compazine. I started feeling better. After a few days I felt like I could function. I could walk around. I could eat. I could sleep. I wasn't paralyzed by the pain or throwing up and throwing up and dry heaving and throwing up bile.

But then after about 3 days my face started feeling weird. It started with just slight movements-- it was as though my lips were twitching and I couldn't control them.

Over the next hour, my jaw and neck grew tight and my tongue felt like it was glued to the bottom of my mouth. And then all of a sudden, I couldn't move.

My neck and jaw muscles started aching from being tensed but I couldn't relax them. My throat felt like it was closing up. I tried to call a taxi to take me to the emergency room, but they couldn't understand me so they hung up.

Now, in case you can't imagine what I might have looked like in this situation, here are some dramatic reenactment photos.

My head and neck could ONLY be in the following positions:

Looking rigidly up and back.

Or, looking rigidly down and forward.

I AM NOT EXAGGERATING.

I know it looks funny NOW, but at the time I couldn't control it and I couldn't speak so I was thinking things like: What the hell is happening to me. WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING TO ME? I am going to be deformed for the rest of my life. Oh my god oh my god oh my god OH MY GOD what is going on. I think I would rather die.

I motioned to the other staff member staying in the house with me to CALL A FUCKING TAXI and he looked at me.

I think you're fine, Julia.

Cllaooolll a taaahksi (Call a taxi).

You just need to drink some water.

Plsheashe shelelep meeeeee. (Please help me).

Finally, he sighed, rolled his eyes, and called a taxi and took me to the emergency room. They gave me a shot of... something? And it went away. And the relief I felt? Intoxicating.

So. I know. I KNOW there are people out there with much much much much worse allergies. But this was terrifying.

I sympathize with your allergies, big or small, confusing or straightforward, common or rare.

Because. I am allergic to Compazine.

Allergic to Compazine.

ALLERGIC TO COMPAZINE!!!

Girl Talk: Workin Girl

I would love to tell you all about my jobs and school and the several different things that I am doing right now with my life. However, I have an 8 page paper due tomorrow that I have not started plus a midterm to do tonight.

The thing about being a nurse is that most people have at least some vague idea of what that might entail. When I used to tell people "I'm an activity director. I work at an adult day health care center" they would tend to say "oh.... huh...." and then stare at my blankly or else look around the room for somebody else to talk to. Sometimes I really enjoy explaining the nuances of what I do, the myriad of different career avenues available in this field, the specific specialty that *I* have chosen and how amazing it is. And then sometimes I like to just be able to say this:

I'm a nurse.

Huh.

I came home from Chico with my leg looking like this:


I don't think this photo does the injury justice since you can't quite make out the multiple bruises but, well, it's hard to photograph your own inner knee area. Also, it's out of focus. Also, apparently I'm rather veiny.

And today I came home to find Bowie sitting on the bed like this:


Leaning on his haunches like some beer-bellied couch potato. And then he just STARED at me. He even sat there long enough for me to run into the other room and get my camera.

I'm not sure to think about either situation.

Halloween

Well I can't really explain it any better than Miss Grace's post does, but it's only day 3 of NaBloPoMo and I can't give up YET so here I am. Halloween weekend in Chico was ridiculous. This is partly due to the fact that the moment I enter the city limit of Chico, I seem to acquire a condition wherein I just SAY whatever comes into my head to whomever is around. Call the guys in front of us in line douche bags? Sure! Tell someone their first name blows? Why not!?

As for my costumes, I had planned on being an owl (I bought this mask off Etsy) but I couldn't manage to get the whole costume together so instead I went down to my storage closet and hauled out every costume I already had and brought them all so that Stella and Jenny could help me decide.

I ended up being a Zebra on Friday night.



And then on Saturday night, Jenny and Stella tried to convince me to join them as a Marvel comic book character.


But I decided to be a very culturally sensitive Native American instead. It's totally legit, I'm part Shoshone.


I thought we all looked amazing and awesome but now that I look at the photos, it appears that better descriptive words might include "haggard" and "intoxicated."

My Zen Kitchen

Oh man. I can't even begin to get into all of this insanity. Lets just say I'm VERY HAPPY that October has ended. A brand new month for a brand new start!

So. Remember how I mentioned I have this book? About organization? And I was going to talk about it? And then I didn't? Well here we are! This here is the book: One Year to an Organized Life. My sister raved about it and I was like "oh, suuuure." But then she sent it to me and I started reading it. And I think it's working.

The first chapter encourages you to start with January-- even if it's not January! That's okay! Just start with the January chapter in whatever month you want to start. And the January chapter involves improving your kitchen. There is a lot of stuff in the book that makes me roll my eyes. Make a dream board? Write dedicated journal entries? Yeah, I'll get right on that. But even some of the foofy stuff worked for me. Like: Imagine your dream kitchen. What's in it? What is NOT in it? How can you change your kitchen to make it a organized, functional, and pleasant?

I had a whole month to turn my kitchen into a zen space. And I am learning to think about appreciating the SPACE in my life, as opposed to hanging onto clutter. I'm also learning to not keep stuff just because I bought it or somebody gave it to me or because I think I might need it.

Okay, so, remember how my kitchen looked before? I think I will re-post the before photos so you can really appreciate the change.

Before, left side of the sink:


After, left side of the sink:


The book also encourages you to take note of your habits and then try to change them. This area on the left side of the sink represents my attempt at that-- I always tended to walk into my house and dump all my stuff onto the counters. Now I generally keep the counters clear, except for this one area by the sink where I'm allowed to keep important papers for the day/week.

Okay, anyhow. Before, right side of the sink:


After, right side of the sink:

Notice my new jars from the Goodwill that almost match the old ones?

Before, left side of the stove:


After, left side of the stove:


Those little colorful jars? Vintage tupperware spice containers that I got off Etsy (after this happened). And those yellow bowls are vintage Pyrex that I'm using to keep my fruit (the large one) and my teabags (the smaller one). That little yellow sugar bowl is also vintage from Etsy. I decided I was allowed to buy stuff that would make my kitchen a more pleasing space....

Before, right side of the stove:

After, right side of the stove:


Whatcha think?

Me Too!

The loverly Miss Grace is BORN TO BLOG (according to the awesome-not-nerdy-at-all t shirt she was wearing in Chico) and so am I. For a month. Yikes. Setting myself up for failure, I wonder?


Okay. Apparently I am already failing because I can't even manage to put up the NaBloPoMo badge here EVEN THOUGH Miss Grace emailed me the html code. Things are getting off to a great start! Suck.