Once upon a sweater

Once upon a time, in a land 1500 miles from this one, Jennifer started knitting a tank top. The year was 2004 and it was Springtime. A time of exuberance for cotton knitwear. A time of enthusiasm for garments with holes made according to pattern. A time of duhn, duhn, duuuuuhn lace.

There were good times and there were bad times. There were times of success and times of ignoring the project hoping it would unravel itself. There were times of moving (to Colorado to Massachusetts to Pennsylvania to Massachusetts to Nepal to Massachusetts to Colorado), yet still no wearable garment sprung forth from our heroine's efforts. And then, one unseasonably cloudy day five years and 1500 miles from its inception...













emerged the tank top from our heroine's weary, blistered fingers. Success! And reinforcement of the need to boycott the creating of lace garments.

Better than TV

I have two channels on my LifeTV: the cat channel and the Colfax channel. Yesterday, on the Colfax channel, was the following image:









Yes, that is a squirrel sitting on the basket attachment of my bicycle. Heehee.

Maybe med school

The murder of Dr. Tiller on Sunday got me thinking about my career's trajectory. I set out in a career in nursing in 2004 in order to work against Bush Jr.'s restrictive policies on abortion; I decided to train in the very information and procedures he was aiming to restrict. I could be the safe "back alley" abortionist should it come to that.

Fast forward to June 5... I work in county jail as a registered nurse: the only job I could get in a state overrun with mid level providers with more experience than I. Said state also has laws that restrict the performance of medical and surgical abortions to physicians, which means that, were I to get a job as a nurse practitioner, it would not be in an abortion clinic as I had originally envisioned.

By becoming a physician, I would no longer have to fight for the career I want because physicians are licensed to do everything. They are also better trained for their jobs and their role is better understood in the health care world. Maybe it is time to stop trying to have the career I want the hard way and go study for the lifetime pass to the field about which I feel most passionate.

The Sisyphysian Life

We all know people for whom life seems out to get -- the paycheck doesn't get deposited, they start jobs that end before they can blink, the medication refill gets hung up in the pharmacy, they land in jail minutes before an important doctor's appointment. It is for these folks that I provide nursing at the county jail. And it's exhausting.

Warranted but harsh criticism

I am usually unsuccessful at tuning out ambient noise, other people's conversations and the like, which is how I've gotten myself into trouble several times, most recently at work.

I walked into the nurses' station and a conversation between two nurses, "What is the Twin RX?" "It's a treatment." "For what?" "Hepatitis." *TV 'wrong' noise here*

There is no treatment for hepatitis. The Twin Rx is a vaccine (preventative measure) against hepatitis A and B. It was with this information that I interjected into the conversation.

And the nurse handing out the wrong information says, "You know what the problem is here, the problem is that I wasn't talking to you. If I was talking to you, I could understand why you're confused, but I wasn't talking to you. B understands me, don't you? [B nods]. So that's the problem here."

Oh smack.

He was really harsh, which stung, but what bothered me more was the criticism; I hate being called out on my weaknesses. (Funny, who does?) In his defense, it must get old having someone correct you, as I have done so before. Then again, it gets old having to fix someone's errors from erroneous information, too.

30

This is my year 30th year on the planet as Jennifer. Well, it will be in a little over two months, but I'm getting a head start on my project for this, my Year of 30. The project is hiking by myself (someone go resuscitate my mother, please). Yes, hiking by myself.

This idea stemmed from a conversation with my friend David about his hiking alone. He does it all the time! But he's a boy.

Perhaps it's a function of being a girl or growing up in suburbia in the 80s. I dunno. But I was raised (splendidly, capably, but with a little bit of fear) to always have a buddy when leaving the house. Perhaps the 'always' is an exaggeration, but it certainly seems like that is the ideal. In light of not having a conjoined twin, I have interpreted 'always have a buddy' to 'have a buddy when one leaves the confines of civilization, such as when hiking, backpacking, snowshoeing, etc.'. But Year of 30 is the time to change that.

I shall tell someone where I'm going and shall bring my cell phone, but damnit, I'm going it alone. The following photos are from my solo adventures undertaken in early celebration of my Year of 30.

The view from one of many lookout spot along the Red Rocks Trail in Matthews Winters Park.







The Speer Blvd. bridge as seen looking west from Confluence Park. Though not outside civilization, it is my favorite city spot, which I visited this week, so it is included.






Top photo: A crystalis in Matthews Winters Park. I've gotta go back and see the end result!

Evening ride

Man (walking on sidewalk pushing shopping cart): I didn't know I was on a bike path! I didn't know I was on a f*cking bike path!

Me (riding bike on sidewalk): I didn't know I was in a grocery store.

Man: F*ck you! This is not a bike path!

Me: Not tonight, thanks.