My Thought Process

A friend (Lydia) emailed an idea for our college group to consider (we get together every quarter).  This sentence had me shaking with laughter:

"There is also a huge Heritage Fair on the weekend of your birthday." 

Pretty innocuous right?  I promise you, this is no exaggeration or embellishment of my thought process....

First thought:

"Wow! They must have a Fair every weekend because it's always someone's birthday!"

Then it got worse, because I followed that thought up with--

Thought #2:

"Oh, you probably have to schedule the Fair --they probably only have the Fairs' on weekends they know a B-day person will be there!"

Even as I'm typing this, tears are streaming down my face because I'm laughing so hard at myself. I'm at Pizza Hut. People are looking at me sideways. Mothers are grabbing their children and towing them far, far, away from me because I  can't stop laughing.  

It took me three thoughts before I finally realized you were saying they have a Fair on the weekend that my birthday falls on--the weekend after Thanksgiving.  

It has NOTHING to do with anyone's B-day. 

Somedays I'm blonde. 

Somedays the blondes out think me. 

Guess which day today is?  

Once Again, I'm Awesome! (It's Proficiency-writing Time)

So, amid the View vs Nurses controversy this week, I wrote and submitted my annual proficiency.


Once again, I'm awesome! 


Seriously, the first year I was unprepared--I didn't know I would be responsible for writing my own proficiency and that I had to have concrete examples for my claims. But from the second year forward I have kept a yearly folder with accomplishments, complex problems I've handled, compliments from stakeholders (Veterans, Family, Vendors, Co-workers, etc.).  And every year when I pull the folder out (of the computer), I am amazed at all the stuff I do--and that only includes the events I take the time to write up. 


If you don't already have some sort of journal or folder to keep track of your accomplishments, start keeping one--it's a great ego booster (especially when idiots who haven't got a clue dis your profession or you personally--The View). It's good to be humble--but it's also good to know that you have worth!  That what you do matters--not just in your life but in other peoples lives as well. That you make a difference. Because we do.  All of us.

And the icing on the cake was when my Supervisor made a special trip to my just to tell me she was impressed with my proficiency and asked if I would write her next proficiency!  (That--or the request to write another type of evaluation of them--has actually been a request from my last three Supervisors.  Writing is one of the things I count as a strength--although some forms of writing are more difficult than others.) 

The Elusive Mr. Right

The Mystery  of the Singleton Socks Continues—and it would appear the oft maligned dryer is perhaps not the culprit I have thought it to be lo these many years.  The disappearance of singleton socks may in fact have another cause,  and there is the strong possibility the culprit may have a less than snowy white innocence.  If so, the responsibility to make a formal apology may fall to moi.

Last night I saw Mr. Sock Right as I laid him out with the rest of the outfit I planned to wear  today. Unfortunately, sometime during the night  he went missing.  The elusive Mr. Right—it’s  the story of my life.  As I searched for the current Mr. Right last night, I became increasingly alarmed.  It appeared he had disappeared off the face of the earth.  At least he had disappeared from my home.

I finally found, not Mr. Right, but one of his long lost relatives—one who had slid down between the recliner and the side table. I know not how long he’s been hiding out there; however, it has been long enough to become  covered in short white hairs. CSI confirmation has not been obtained; however, the short white hairs  do not match the hair on my head;  they are  shorter than the hairs of Bandits crest; and  they look suspiciously like  they might belong to Moggy.  I do not believe in coincidence.

Although the new-found sock did not match Mr. Left,  I was running out of time, so I made an executive decision and pressed the Hairy Relative into service—at least I  pressed him into service once the majority of the evidentiary white hairs were knocked off.  

Funny thing though—on my way out the door I passed the Kitty Rocker (the same one  Moggy dismantled within minutes of being presented to him),  where I found the elusive Mr. Right. Isn’t this always the way it happens?  Once you stop searching , the object of your search miraculously appears—sometimes in the least expected place.  

Alas,  I became aware of a trend. Mr. Right was also found to be  covered in short white hairs.

I realize the location Mr. Right was  found (the Kitty Rocker), along with the short white hairs on both Singleton Socks,  could be red herrings; planted by a devious dog wanting to get his feline brother into trouble. Or the dryer may have somehow secretly transported the missing sock back to our home.  Or, these facts could simply be coincidences. However, as previously stated, I do not believe in coincidence.  Nevertheless, in the light of fairness, I must cautiously remember the hundreds of previous singleton socks who went missing prior to Moggys adoption into our little family, which I lovingly refer to as Mary Lou’s Zoo.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes has said, “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.”  Although I have my doubts as to the innocence of Moggy, I will endeavor to continue my sleuthing until the day I can eliminate all of the impossibilities, thereby  arriving at the truth, no matter how improbable it may seem.