Saturday, May 3, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
That's A New One
I was at work yesterday when the phone rang.
"Good evening, Tim Horton's, Haley speaking."
"Um, hi? I was wondering if you could check if there's a woman with long brown hair there?" The speaker is a young man.
I look and report back that there are only two women with gray hair and an elderly man in the store at the moment.
"Oh. Um. Okay. Well she should be in soon. When she does could you tell her that Harry asked if he could marry her? I'd really appreciate it."
Then he hung up. Didn't wait for a reply. How odd!
Firstly, "woman with long brown hair" is not much of a description. I'm not about to ask every woman with brown hair if she'll marry Harry, and secondly, even if I did, how is Harry supposed to know her reply? Assuming that the proposal was genuine (and I'm fully aware that it was likely a crank call on me), that's something that you'd think Harry would want to see in person.
It did rather amuse me for the rest of the night though!
"Good evening, Tim Horton's, Haley speaking."
"Um, hi? I was wondering if you could check if there's a woman with long brown hair there?" The speaker is a young man.
I look and report back that there are only two women with gray hair and an elderly man in the store at the moment.
"Oh. Um. Okay. Well she should be in soon. When she does could you tell her that Harry asked if he could marry her? I'd really appreciate it."
Then he hung up. Didn't wait for a reply. How odd!
Firstly, "woman with long brown hair" is not much of a description. I'm not about to ask every woman with brown hair if she'll marry Harry, and secondly, even if I did, how is Harry supposed to know her reply? Assuming that the proposal was genuine (and I'm fully aware that it was likely a crank call on me), that's something that you'd think Harry would want to see in person.
It did rather amuse me for the rest of the night though!
Saturday, April 19, 2008
A New Addition!
Once again there is something worth blogging about! Greg and I are adopting a kitten. There were many factors involved in the decision. Rumble has been lonely (and therefore annoying is his demand for attention), Greg and I both enjoy how two cats play together, and Greg had never had a kitten before - and of course I love kittens!
We decided to do a private adoption through an agency, rather than going to the humane society. This meant a lower cost: $145 for kitten +2 rounds of shots +spaying +flea/earmite/worm removal. It also meant a friendlier environment. There is nothing I hate more than visiting the humane society and having to leave behind all the meowing for attention kitties and wondering if they will ever find a home. Instead I got to go to a woman's home and sit in a room with the two kittens they had, and play with them in a low-key environment.
So that brings us to the kitten herself (yes, she's a 'she'). I don't have any pictures yet, as we don't get to take her home with us until the 29/30, after she's healed from the spaying, but I will describe her. She's 11 weeks old, and white, except for her head and her back, which is brown tabby. I keep saying that it's as if she was meant to be a white cat and someone just accidentally dropped tabby on her. She's very affectionate, much more so than her brother who was more interested in my shoelaces than me. And so, in just over a week, Rumble will have a little friend.
And her name? So far we think either Pandora or Nietzsche ("neet-cha"). Anyone have a preference?
We decided to do a private adoption through an agency, rather than going to the humane society. This meant a lower cost: $145 for kitten +2 rounds of shots +spaying +flea/earmite/worm removal. It also meant a friendlier environment. There is nothing I hate more than visiting the humane society and having to leave behind all the meowing for attention kitties and wondering if they will ever find a home. Instead I got to go to a woman's home and sit in a room with the two kittens they had, and play with them in a low-key environment.
So that brings us to the kitten herself (yes, she's a 'she'). I don't have any pictures yet, as we don't get to take her home with us until the 29/30, after she's healed from the spaying, but I will describe her. She's 11 weeks old, and white, except for her head and her back, which is brown tabby. I keep saying that it's as if she was meant to be a white cat and someone just accidentally dropped tabby on her. She's very affectionate, much more so than her brother who was more interested in my shoelaces than me. And so, in just over a week, Rumble will have a little friend.
And her name? So far we think either Pandora or Nietzsche ("neet-cha"). Anyone have a preference?
Monday, March 24, 2008
A Nice Turn of Events
Good things are a-brewing. I convinced my manager to give me two 8-hour shifts on the weekend, thereby limiting the nights I have to work with crazy-racist-shift-leader to one a week. One is far better than three. One I can manage. One does not rob me of my soul.
I also found a new carpool arrangement. No more being so chronically late that I get letters for bad attendance. No more being called at 7:25 am to say the ride isn't coming (when college starts at 8:15, and is a 2 hour bus ride). No more being left at college because the other class got out early.
I now have one girl from my own term drive me in the morning, since doesn't it turn out that she drops her husband off at work 2 blocks from my house every morning. In the afternoons I get a ride home from a group of term one students that carpool together every day.
So Much Better!
And there may even be a visit from my former roomie in the works for later this week. Come, Jackie! Do come!
I also found a new carpool arrangement. No more being so chronically late that I get letters for bad attendance. No more being called at 7:25 am to say the ride isn't coming (when college starts at 8:15, and is a 2 hour bus ride). No more being left at college because the other class got out early.
I now have one girl from my own term drive me in the morning, since doesn't it turn out that she drops her husband off at work 2 blocks from my house every morning. In the afternoons I get a ride home from a group of term one students that carpool together every day.
So Much Better!
And there may even be a visit from my former roomie in the works for later this week. Come, Jackie! Do come!
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Developments
Midterms are done! I can now have a life again. I began my having a life again by reinstalling windows on my drugged-out computer, with much phone help from my little brother the computer genius. It's good to have him to fall back on when my computer tells me that
a) windows is corrupt and needs to be reinstalled
b) it can't reinstall windows because there is already an operating system installed (ie: windows)
I would have just been sitting on the floor crying without my brilliant brother calmly talking me through how to fix it. That he was able to do this while serving people beavertails at his job, dealing with customer questions, and doing some sort of inventory/ordering thing tells you just how brilliant he is.
That crisis over, I cleaned all the wood in the apartment with Murphy's Oil. Got to love that stuff. Now the beat up wood sliding doors on the (5) closets and the (4) room doors and the (12) cupboards and the dining room floor all look beat up AND shiny. An improvement over just beat up, I'll say. The whole apartment shines and stinks. The stink will fade, and hopefully the shine will stay.
The Tims I work at is finally out of the trailer. No being trapped in a 5'x5' square with a loudly racist supervisor. Now I can at least by 15' away from the racist supervisor at all times. It's an improvement, folks. Plus there are more things to do so I'm not bored out of my mind, and the heating works! Of course there is an incredibly loud water hammer thing that happens whenever we run the industrial dishwasher that makes it sound as though the store is coming down, but management says the plummer will be in later this week.
And now I have an evening with nothing to study, and no work. What a luxury. Mound of laundry, here I come!
a) windows is corrupt and needs to be reinstalled
b) it can't reinstall windows because there is already an operating system installed (ie: windows)
I would have just been sitting on the floor crying without my brilliant brother calmly talking me through how to fix it. That he was able to do this while serving people beavertails at his job, dealing with customer questions, and doing some sort of inventory/ordering thing tells you just how brilliant he is.
That crisis over, I cleaned all the wood in the apartment with Murphy's Oil. Got to love that stuff. Now the beat up wood sliding doors on the (5) closets and the (4) room doors and the (12) cupboards and the dining room floor all look beat up AND shiny. An improvement over just beat up, I'll say. The whole apartment shines and stinks. The stink will fade, and hopefully the shine will stay.
The Tims I work at is finally out of the trailer. No being trapped in a 5'x5' square with a loudly racist supervisor. Now I can at least by 15' away from the racist supervisor at all times. It's an improvement, folks. Plus there are more things to do so I'm not bored out of my mind, and the heating works! Of course there is an incredibly loud water hammer thing that happens whenever we run the industrial dishwasher that makes it sound as though the store is coming down, but management says the plummer will be in later this week.
And now I have an evening with nothing to study, and no work. What a luxury. Mound of laundry, here I come!
Sunday, February 17, 2008
One Step Closer!
The date is set! October 21st, 2008, I take the trip to Toronto to take the practical examination (aka OSCE) set by the College of Massage Therapists of Ontario. The other exam is written, and I can't register for it until 2 weeks before my graduation. That one isn't such a rush though because you can write it at many different locations across the country. For the OSCE there are only 7 spots available for each time, and everyone has to go to Toronto to do it. It fills up fast.
So that's it. October 21st, I'll be doing the big exam. I'm already exited.
So that's it. October 21st, I'll be doing the big exam. I'm already exited.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Neurology Does Not Spell "Good Time"
Tomorrow I have a neurology exam. As of now I can draw the major neurological pathways (aka: plexus...es? plexi?) of the body and name the innervation of almost every single muscle in the body. Even the tiny ones that nobody really cares about. We don't have to learn the ones for the face. I'm not sure really why that distinction is made. I know the innervations for the itty bitty neck muscles, and for the various parts of private anatomy, but the face? Don't need to know it.
Of course, one could argue that I don't need to know any of these at all! I mean really, what are the odds that someone is going to show up in my massage clinic complaining that they can't contract their deltoid to lift the arm? Surely if someone has noticed that they can't lift their arm or contract the muscle at all then they would be talking to their doctor about it, not their massage therapist. And if someone does come to me with that problem, or I happen to notice it during a routine shoulder massage, say, then do I really have to be able to tell them that the problem likely stems from the axillary nerve of the brachial plexus originating from the lower cervical vertebrae?
Ah, no. In fact, I'm not qualified to give them any kind of diagnosis so even if that did happen and even if I did know what nerve was affected I would still be forced to say "I'm thinking that their might be something neurologically wrong here and I'm going to recommend that you see your GP about this". So what is the freaking point?
The answer: to pass the provincial board exams.
So off I go to stuff my brain with more muscle-nerve associations so that I can pass the board exams, become an RMT, and forget all about the brachial plexus.
Of course, one could argue that I don't need to know any of these at all! I mean really, what are the odds that someone is going to show up in my massage clinic complaining that they can't contract their deltoid to lift the arm? Surely if someone has noticed that they can't lift their arm or contract the muscle at all then they would be talking to their doctor about it, not their massage therapist. And if someone does come to me with that problem, or I happen to notice it during a routine shoulder massage, say, then do I really have to be able to tell them that the problem likely stems from the axillary nerve of the brachial plexus originating from the lower cervical vertebrae?
Ah, no. In fact, I'm not qualified to give them any kind of diagnosis so even if that did happen and even if I did know what nerve was affected I would still be forced to say "I'm thinking that their might be something neurologically wrong here and I'm going to recommend that you see your GP about this". So what is the freaking point?The answer: to pass the provincial board exams.
So off I go to stuff my brain with more muscle-nerve associations so that I can pass the board exams, become an RMT, and forget all about the brachial plexus.
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