Mmmm…. Jameson’s.

Things I Have Done that No One Else Has Done. This is the current meme going around, thanks to John Scalzi.

However, because this is me, I’m going to change it just a tad: Things that have happened to me that never happen to other people.

It’s going to be a series of anecdotes. Here’s the start:

Anecdote 1

When I was working at NIOSH, a friend had an extra ticket to the football game, and because I like going to football games, I went with him.

Unfortunately for me, as the weather was cool, I didn’t think to either wear at hat or put on sunscreen, so I got a nasty sunburn–but only on the left side of my face. Not only did it turn bright red, but it swelled up and got puffy and everything. All week my co-workers kept asking me, “what happened?” and “are you feeling okay?” I was pretty much the talk of the lab for the entire week.

Fast forward several months later. I am walking to the lab one morning with my friend Susan, and fretting about how self-conscious I am about a pimple that has appeared.

“It’s not that bad,” said Susan. “It’s hardly noticable!”

Suddenly, from way down the hall, Song Bi asks, “Michelle! What happened to your face? Did you get sunburned again?”

Anecdote 2

I got along extremely well with my co-workers at NIOSH. And because they felt comfortable around me, they all asked me to help them with their English–to correct them when they said something wrong, etc. I was also asked about the words they didn’t know but were pretty sure weren’t “good” words. So I would also get asked things like, “what is ‘prostitute’?” (I am so lucky someone didn’t come in on that conversation.)

This was usually a lot of fun for me and for them, because in addition to explaining the word, I’d inevitably have a story or even the history of the word to share. It was, however, at other times, a somewhat painful experience.

I had to help one researcher tag mice and clean their cages, (as I was very bothered by this, he sacrificed them when I wasn’t around) so we would be stuck in a small, sterile room in animal quarters for a couple of hours. And inevitably, to practice his English, he would relate the entire plot of the last movie he had watched. And not just any movie, but the made-for-TV movie he had watched.

Let me tell you, if you think the plots of those things are bad when you’re watching them, try figuring out the plot when it’s been sieved through the brain of a man who isn’t a fluent English speaker.

Here is a sample of one part of one conversation.

Gu: So, she was having relationship with son of her best friend. The high school son. Much younger than her. Is this normal?
Me: No! Not normal!

Anecdote 3

After donating blood earlier in the day, I passed out in the freight elevator at NIOSH. But not only did I pass out, but I managed to smack my forehead on something, and also had some sort a muscle spasm (you know, the kind that sometimes jerk you awake when you’re falling asleep).

I wake up and one friend is calling my name in a panic, while the other is pressing on my forehead to try and stem the bleeding of the nasty cut I managed to give myself. Upon gaining some coherence, I felt embarrassed at making a scene, but other than the blood in my eyes I felt ok. However, by this time there are now LOTS of people in and around the elevator, and because of the way I fell, and because I hit my head (twice actually: once on a corner and once on the floor) and because of the muscle spasm, they refused to allow me to move, and called an ambulance.

So I get put in a neck brace, placed on a back board, placed in the ambulance, and driven to the emergency room that is, quite literally, RIGHT NEXT DOOR. However, as there are multiple speed bumps on the direct route between NIOSH and the emergency room, they actually had to take me around the block. Which was silly, but I did appreciate as I was strapped to a backboard. (My husband actually managed to walk to the emergency room faster than I got there in the ambulance.)

At the hospital, I get an MRI and a CAT scan. in the meantime, not only has my husband been called, but he’s called my parents. So in the room with me are my husband, one of my friends from NIOSH, my mother, my father, my boss, and the safety officer. Of course my family has realized that aside from the bleeding, there’s nothing wrong with me, so they then completely and totally make fun of me. Because that’s what my family does in stressful situations. So I’m laughing. And everyone else is laughing, including the doctors and nurses who wandered in and out giving me tests and poking and prodding.

In the end I got 12 stitches, a black eye, and the next day off from work because I couldn’t get the stitches wet for 24 hours, and my hair was matted with blood. (Photographic evidence here)

Additionally, I ended up being mentioned (unnamed) during the future blood borne pathogen training sessions, since the elevator had to be shut down for several hours while a biohazard team cleaned up all the blood, and gloves and bandages were added to all first aid kids throughout the building, along with gauze pads, so no one would again have to try to stem bleeding with their bare hands or a pile of industrial paper towels.

(watching Heroes)

Michelle: Hey! I recognize him! Wasn’t he one of the Vedeks?
Michael: Yeah, you’re right. He was.
Michelle: Which one? I can’t place it, except that he was cranky.
Michael: Was it the one about the vipers?
Michelle: YES! That’s it!

Plus? He was on Babyon 5. He played the rabbi.

Well, that’s it.

I just put my letters in the (campus) mail telling the chair and my advisor that I’m quitting the MPH program.

Looking back, I can see that my problems keeping up with my courses were the first sign of my depression that I ignored, or refused to see for what it was. But now I realize that was when my depression started to spiral out of control, and that my coursework was hurting and not helping my ability to stabilize my mental health.

Part of me feels like a quitter. After all, I really only had my practicum to complete for the degree. However, I very well know that the practicum (for a variety of reasons) is the most miserable part of the program, and one that I would definitely be unable to deal with at this point in my life. (All I’ll say is that if I want someone to be mean to me, I’ll go spend time with my mother.)
But the other parts of me see this as a huge weight off my shoulders. For the past couple years I haven’t even been sure that the MPH was even the right program for me. But be that as it may, I have learned a lot from my classes, much of which has served me well not only in dealing with my grandmother moving in with me, but in learning the rules and regulations surrounding Medicare and Medicaid as older family members have had to move into assisted care facilities.

And really, there is no such thing as wasted knowledge. Everything one learns is useful, even if it’s just in exercising one’s brain. Now I just have to leave the brain exercising up to myself, and make sure that I continue to be aware of my mental health, and not let myself reach the depths to which I had sunk for the past two years.

So I’m sad about not finishing the program, but I am also relieved that I no longer have to worry about finishing the program.

Here’s a brief e-mail exchange between me and my husband, where I wanted him to look at a letter I’d just written. I’ll change the order so you don’t have to read upside down.

“Michael Hyde” 1/17/2008 1:35 PM
What is this?

“Michelle Klishis” 1/17/2008 1:37 PM
did you read it?!

“Michael Hyde” 1/17/2008 2:18 PM
Oh, wasn’t sure what it was so didn’t want to open it.

I can’t think of any grounds upon which I would have sent someone a document I didn’t want them to read. Nor have I ever sent him a virus laden document or attachment.

One more reason I really like Johnny Deep.

Johnny Depp secretly visited Great Ormond Street Hospital yesterday to donate £1 million of his own money to thank staff for saving his daughter’s life.

Maybe it’s just me, but while watching Heroes this evening, I was shocked to discover that Adrian Pasdar (Heroes) looks a lot like how Mitchell Hundred (Ex Machina) is drawn.

Do you see it? Or is it just me? How about this?
Perhaps it’s just the parallels between the two characters, but still…

West Virginia officials are wondering if assistant coaches aren’t all that Rich Rodriguez took with him to Michigan. They believe he may also have destroyed all or most of the paperwork files relating to every player on the current Mountaineer roster and virtually all of the activities conducted by the program over the past seven years.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

I think this is the worst of it:

Most disturbing, though, is the absence of all of the players’ personal files, which included, among other things, contact information, scholarship money awarded, class attendance records and records on personal conduct and community service, be it positive or negative.

Hopefully, all those who were the recipients of the player’s community service will step up and help provide at least that information.

I’ll end here because everything else I can think to add isn’t fit for polite company–or any company at all for that matter.

Today’s Word:

pistolero noun (pl. pistoleros) (in Spain and Spanish-speaking areas)
a gunman or gangster. origin Spanish.

Additionally, the current search terms in my Google toolbar box are “viagra rush limbaugh” because for some reason, I confuse Newt Gingrich with Rush Limbaugh.

What is this planing ahead of which you speak?

Well, today it consisted of making soup after dinner today, so we can have soup for dinner tomorrow as soon as we get home.

Potato leek soup. Very easy.

~2 tbsp olive oil
~2 tbsp butter
bunch of leeks, white parts minced, greens saved for stock or composted
potatoes, 6 to 12, depending upon size
4cups stock
salt & pepper to taste
~1 to 2 cups, depending upon how many potatoes you used

Saute leeks in butter and olive oil. Add sliced potatoes and hot stock, bring to a boil. Simmer 30 minutes. Add salt & pepper. Run through blender. Eat.

See? Easy.

Now we’ll have soup for dinner tomorrow, which should go well with the cold and snowy weather we’re having.

I don’t understand why I never made soup for years and years. As long as you’ve got good stock, it’s quite easy. Our only problem is that Grandmom can’t eat our favorite soups: broccoli cheese and corn chowder. Which are also the two easiest soups to make. But, I just put eight cups of potato soup in the freezer, so that means she can just eat that next time I’m on the mood for corn chowder…

Which may be very soon, because the more I think about corn chowder, the yummier it sounds.

Mmm…. soup.

Why is the bed most comfortable when you know you have to get out of it? You get a case of insomnia and you can’t get comfortable to save your life, but as soon as it’s time to get up, you’re so comfortable you could just fall asleep at the drop of an eyelid.

I’m going to take a little time to gather myself after this morning’s shock. I’m still very upset for my friends, so instead of writing stupid stuff, I’m just going to take some time to regroup, and see if I can come up with anything to do to help from here.

For those of you who occasionally stop by here because you know me personally, I have some terrible news to share.

Andy (one of my best friends) discovered the body of his brother-in-law yesterday.

If you would like to contact Andy and Heather to send them a card and share your condolences, let me know and I can give you their address.

Otherwise, please keep them in your thoughts.

Are You a Vocabulary Champion?
(Why yes, yes I am!)
You got 13/15 correct.

My biggest problem was not knowing the meaning of disembarrassment. I guessed incorrectly.