Rest

The Bible says even God rested on the 7th day after creating the universe and all it contains.  I don't feel guilty for needing one if even the Creator saw fit to do so.  It seems frequently my need and the demands around me are at odds.  This is even more the case in the last couple of months.

I don't work today...well, not for a paycheck anyway.  Right now I am blogging from bed.  I'm awake but not willing to get up yet.  Once I'm vertical my day will be driven by paying bills, doctor's appointments, phone calls arguing with insurance companies and billing departments, running the mom taxi, laundry, and the list goes on.

I ran across this simple site and followed the directions .  In fact, it's still playing in the background as I lay here.  It reminded me of the best night's sleep I ever got.  It was during the bicycle trip I was on the summer of 1987 when a group of us went from East Coast to West Coast in 65 days. (If you're interested go to the archives from the summer of 2007.  I posted a new chapter every Tuesday.) One night we slept on top of a cliff along US-1 in Big Sur, California.  We rolled out our bags under some tall trees and slept on a cushy bed of evergreen needles.  We fell asleep to the sound of the ocean and woke to the same.  It was blissfully relaxing.

So anyway, I am taking a breather for a few minutes and sharing it with you in case you need it.  Tell me how you define rest and what was your best night's sleep in the comments if you'd be so kind.

Slice of Lime-One of Those Days

*Old picture but my camera is dead.  It's an ex-camera.  It has run up the curtain and joined the choir invisible.  So you'll have to make do with this old shot, which more or less illustrates my point.

Now to preface this post I have to say all blunders, goofs, SNAFUS, and displays of general incompetence were rectified in quick order by yours truly.  Also, the day was not a bad one as the assorted foul ups provided good chuckles for all the folks witnessing them.  But good grief, I could not get it together Wednesday.  Yet, here I am trotting it out for all of blogdom to see my idiocy.  Yes, folks, we're getting to the bottom of the barrel of blog post fodder here...  So without further ado here or just some of the ways in which I managed to mess up simple tasks during a single shift at work.

1. Answered the phone, put the caller on hold to transfer the call and hung up on them instead. (Common mistake I know, but it gets better so read on.)
2. Dialed the phone to make another call and forgot who I was calling. (Motherheimers moment)
3. Left a message for one patient stating, "This is Michelle from Smallville returning your call." Instead of "This is Michelle from Smallville Chiropractic returning your call..." (Yes, I'm so famous I only need my first name and location and people will just know...)
4. During appointment confirmation calls left another message stating, "This is Michelle from Smallville Chiropractic confirming your apartment..."  (Should you need to move, please pack your bags and get outta town?)
5. When the boss handed me a bunch of papers and asked me to fax them to the number on top I dutifully sent them to...our own office...because that's the first number my eyes fell on. After the fax failed to go through I realized the number I punched in was kinda familiar.  (Oh yeah, that's OUR number!)
6. So I tried the next number on the paper...4 times...before I got an annoyed call from the other office telling me to use the FAX number not the land line...uh, yeah, that was the note at the bottom of the page...the one marked "fax number." (I was told my blonde roots were showing there.)
7. Discover several patients on the paper schedules from yesterday who I never put into the master computer schedule for today.
8. My personally horrifying moment came when I accidentally, and without realizing it, ran one patient's credit card for 10 times the amount I was supposed to and her card was declined.  Not wanting to embarrass her I discreetly indicated as such.  She was incredulous and said she was going to go call the bank.  The bank let her know I was the one at fault.  She came back laughing hysterically (thank god she wasn't ready to kill me) and I ran the credit card for the correct amount with no problem.  I apologized profusely.  And may I say I am VERY glad she didn't have enough in the account to cover my initial blunder because I shudder to think how badly that might have screwed her up and the horror of having to deal with that, not to mention trying to balance my drawer at the end of the night.  Which leads us to...
9. Balancing my drawer.  Patient count was right, check total was right, credit card total was (miraculously) right.  I counted the cash 3 times and kept coming up $10 in excess....because a 50, a 20, and a 10 make $90, right? (Seriously, having me do this part of my job is akin to having a dyslexic as a file clerk.)

Ok, so all relatively minor, but some of these I repeated multiple times today, and all of it was in one day.  Again, not a bad day, lots of comic relief for coworkers.  But I dunno where the heck my head was.  I was functioning like I'd been lobotomized.

Slice of Lime-My Spring Sprung

I still can't seem to get pictures from my good camera off my computer and onto Blogger or into an email but things from my phone seem to work. Go figure. Once I can you'll get the Slice planned for last week. In the meantime we have a different tale of woe.

We have had a trampoline for about 6 years. It has been used hard and enjoyed quite a lot. Last winter Isaac was trying to rid it of a rather heavy load of snow. In the process he gouged it several times with the shovel and ripped up the mat. The frame was still good so we didn't want to toss the whole thing. I found a seller on eBay who stocked replacement mats and ordered one, hoping it would arrive in time for Diana's graduation party so the little people attending could enjoy the trampoline. It arrived on time but it was the wrong size. For anyone else who ever needs to order one of these here's a tip. Don't measure the diameter of the mat and assume that is all you need. Measure the diameter of the frame and count how many springs have to attach to the mat. After much correspondence delayed by a number of things we determined the correct size of mat we needed and worked out an exchange for the proper one. It arrived a couple days ago. I was anxious to reassemble the trampoline and test it out.

I could say this is a picture I took after finishing while I laid on the shiny new surface and gazed up through the magnificent oaks and pondered the beauty of the world. That would be a lie.

Perhaps the next picture displays a greater hint at the truth. As an aside, note the little red building in the distance. That is "Manland." Mr. Lime has claimed that as his own space and banned anyone who does not possess external genitalia from entering. He has gone so far as to add a padlock to the door and hide the key without telling me where it is. I am not particularly bothered by this except that he moved all the tools and hardware out there and on occasion I need a hammer, drill , wrench, or DeWalt Heavy Duty 15 amp 12 inch Dual-Bevel Sliding Compound Miter Saw (More Power! *Grunt-grunt-grunt*) in order to fix something broken around here. I have some friends who work up a lather of righteous indignation over the concept of "Manland" and all it represents. I find it merely a logistical annoyance somewhat reminiscent of the He-Man Women Hater's Club. So weigh in with your opinion on the issue if you wish. Moving on...

Are you beginning to get the picture with regard to my resolve in installing the new trampoline mat? You know the amount of tension from all those springs and how taut a trampoline mat is? Yeah. You know how much muscle it takes to hook those friggin grommets into the springs? Ok, I hate math (except geometry, which is a beautiful and elegant thing) and I never took physics. Here's the conversation I had when I dropped the physics class...

Guidance counselor: You need physics for college

Me: No I don't. I satisfied my science requirement to get in

GC: You need it anyway

Me: No I don't. I'm going to be a special Ed. teacher. I'll never have to teach this stuff to my students and the only physics I might need I already learned. If I work with a kid in a wheelchair, apply the brakes when parked. If not I'd better be able to run faster than the chair rolls downhill. Got it. I'm good. Drop the class.

Right, so last night my fine grasp of physics led me to decide the amount of pressure I needed to apply to the springs and the mat divided by the amount of strength in Janita multiplied by the hunger the whole family and squared over pi equaled me saying, "Mr. Lime gets to do this job. After all, he has a Manland full of tools and external genitalia. I'm sure he can do this better than I can. I shall be content to prepare a tasty meal, launder vile athletic clothes, run the mom taxi, clean the house, negotiate better deals on home owner's insurance, and provide editing, counselling, and distance banking services to Limelettes for today."

I gave up the wrestling match after hooking 38 of the 88 springs to grommets.

This is the face of a woman who has other crap to expend her energy on besides wrestling trampoline mats. This is the face of a woman who got up at the butt crack of dawn to drive 5 teenagers to a charter school. Seriously, don't the bags under those eyes say she should just lay down a while?


Who am I to argue with bags like that?

Not incarcerated yet thanks to my own procrastination.\

I've been sewing furiously. The quilt is fully assembled but now needs every seam clipped before I haul it to the laundomat to wash it. I spent 4 hours sewing last night and another 3 today to finish assembly. I've been clipping for the last 2 hours and still have over half the quilt to clip but my right hand it beginning to curl into a claw and my shoulder is completely tensed up. Diana goes to college tomorrow. It will be interesting to see if I can manage to finish thing fully in time.

The combination of spackle dust lint which coat the mucous membranes of my nose, sinuses, and lungs provide an interesting manner of asphyxiation. Excuse me while I hork up a hair ball and blow some particularly interesting snot rockets. (You know, that rednecky maneuver where you just close one nostril and shoot the snot out the other one.) I figure if I can work up enough respiratory force they could be some deadly projectiles once I give them enough time to harden up.