A Work in Progress

Why do we fear aging? We try to prevent it, to stave it off. We wish to be younger, to pull the reins of time. We damn the wrinkles, dye the hair, cover the spots. We can’t wait to grow up, then can’t wait to stop. Still, we covet our parents’ experience, and long for our grandmothers’ wisdom. I do not fear age, no, I embrace the passage of time, as the older I get, the more I realize how stupid I was yesterday.

When I started this blog I swore not to blog unless I had something of interest to blog about. I think I've pretty much stuck to that. Except for right now. It has been a long time since my last post, and I don't really have anything interesting to post now. Technically I am wasting your time. The best thing to happen at work recently was when we got PEEP valves for our vents. Also, I got a few more items for my, what will now be, annual EMS Christmas tree . Still holding out for a good topper though. Any suggestions? Next week I should have the last of the pottery class pots ready for your visual enjoyment. They are more pot-like than the first batch. I have made small steps toward what I am calling "Wild Ass Plan #1." More on that later, I hope, but the stars must align for it all to happen. It would bring an interesting chapter to the blog though. There I go again, blogging about nothing. I have recently gone on a pretty successful 1st date. Second to f...

What happens when you open the side door of an ambulance into the screen of the zoll E series? It cracks the screen and makes it useless! What happens when you leave it on the desk of your boss and run away? Well, I'm not sure yet. I didn't have a bow to put on it as an early Christmas present, but I did leave a note offering my apology and first born child. At first glance I didn't think it was too bad, then I turned it on.

I am good at being single. I am getting used to it. I heat pizzas for one and laugh at my own jokes. I am independently minded, and find fun as the third wheel. I watch demoralizing chick flicks, have daytime fantasies of serendipitous meetings. I am self sufficient. I eat lucky charms for dinner and sleep late in the middle of the bed. I am bad at being single. I look and wait, but I don’t know where to find him. And when I do find someone I like, I have named our children, before I look at his left hand. When I feel lonely I don’t know where to turn. I settle for my cat.

Old search terms that I've been meaning to publish, but had not gotten around to it. I'm not sure these actually get you to the blog anymore, but they did at least once! "free pictures of full English breakfast" I'd rather have it in real life than in pictures. If I had any pictures, I wouldn't charge. "pictures of paramedics in England" I love that this yields my blog and pictures of soccer. "my health work in progress" Health is indeed a work in progress. "Surgical Crike and Pictures" Yahoo wanted to change this search to "surgical crimes and pictures." "aberrantly conducted" which google tried to changed to "apparently conducted" haha, sounds like pulseless elctrical activity to me. "work in progress good to go shirt" When the blog is popular enough to need a t-shirt, I'll keep this in mind. "what it means to carry junk in your pocket" A deep philosophical question indee...

A few days ago my state trooper preceptor was hit by a car while taking a jog on vacation. He has subsequently died from his injuries. I can’t begin to take on the feelings of his wife and children. But I know that he was a good man, and for a few twelve hour shifts three winters ago, he took me under his wing, showed me how to be a good paramedic, and kept me safe. He told me that with integrity, I could go anywhere in this business. How right he was. He was a preceptor who told me “You’re in charge.” and from there let me make decisions and run his scenes. How ironic it is to work on a medivac helicopter and die in a vehicle accident. I am sick with this loss. Link Link

Wind chilled wet hands steady the paddle against the wind, rhythmically slicing it into the choppy waters. The swell pushes me forward clumsily, as the spray leaps into my face. I am exhilarated, nervous, excited. The everyday produces a hard shell. Too many interactions with lifeless people. But here out on the water, I am freed. I shout it to the trees, to the heron in flight above me, to the sandy shoreline. I can still feel. My fears are put aside for one more day.

Major excitement and good vibes to my countrymen. I am extremely proud to be a part of history. Good history. I'm pretty much beside myself right now. There are more poetic things to say, but for now I'm too tired and exhilarated to form them. How far we've come. How far we have yet to go. But this is just a monumental step. I'm hoping that the results will be the same when I wake up tomorrow. I'm also hoping that things will indeed change in this country. Now for you viewing pleasure, the beating of our current president in effigy, before and after. It was surprisingly therapeutic. Turns out his head is full of paper and gum.

I've never had such power in one finger as I used our fancy touch screen to vote for president today. If you are American and reading this, please take the time to vote today! If you are not American and reading this, please pray that we have the sense to get it right this time! I saw a promising number of these stickers as I did some final shopping for my election party today. We are able to agree on at least one thing, we should all vote! I took my 92 year old grandmother to vote today, which made me warm and fuzzy inside. She has seen so much change in this country and is still excited to vote. Lets hope that there are no hanging chads, the electoral college works for us rather than against us, and for a decisive victory that can be declared today and not two weeks from now! The blog is usually not political, but today I can't help myself!

This job can wear on the heart. Can cause one to harden, and grow cold against the world. Everyday traumas and dramas, melt together, and even the extraordinary becomes a fading memory. Bloody gloved hands unconsciously go through the motions, methodically carrying out their tasks.