A Pretty Darn Good Day

This year I've been able to meet some amazing blogger friends in real life.  It's kind of like internet dating, though.  We get to know each other pretty well through our blogs, so it really is like seeing a life-long friend when we meet IRL.  But there's always that moment of hesitation...that what if they're not so fabulous outside of the blogosphere.

I have yet to travel to meet any blogger friends, they've all pretty much come to us (thank goodness Mom and Bill have the lodge, which is a natural meeting place) and I think it takes some big ole hairy cojones to travel, in some cases, halfway across the nation to visit.

In August, we had High Country Rendezvous, in which we met Rachel (and Momma P) from Once Upon A Miracle and Killlashandra (and her fabulous hubby) from Southwest Mementos.

In October, we had Mrs Mom and Mr Mrs Mom from Oh HorseFeathers! and LT and Meg from Browneyed Cowgirls.

This week, we've had Momma Fargo and Bug (yes, you read that right - jealous much?) from The Boogie Man Is My Friend and T!nK from This Is How It Feels.


Okay, I haven't uploaded the pictures from today yet, but stay tuned, they'll be a comin'.

They've all been fabulous!  We've had the best time together.  If you have a bloggy friend who you want to meet, don't hesitate.  You might miss out.  And then you'd be sad.

TST: Half-Naked

It's that time of week again!  I've been lax about linking up, but Tuesday comes around and it's Wednesday before I realized that I missed Tuesday.  If you've never linked up before, head on over to Rachel's blog and play along - we all have things we can share.

Half-Naked

One would think that as Associate Dean, I wouldn't be spending a lot of time in the classroom teaching.  In the classroom, evaluating instructors, but not teaching.  One would be wrong.   I teach every bit as much as I did before I got promoted, only it's all last-minute teaching.  As in, the scheduled instructor suddenly can't teach the class, needs the mod off, or up and quits, so in goes GunDiva to teach the class.

This past mod, I ended up teaching ECG class to two students.  At least it wasn't a big class.  But then...if it had been a bigger class maybe I wouldn't have ended up in the position I did.

Not only do Medical Assistants have to recognize normal/abnormal ECG tracings, they have to be able to acquire the ECGs.  I don't believe in teaching "hypothetically".  I don't tell my students that "hypothetically, if we had a patient, you'd place the ECG electrodes like this...".  No, I make them do it for realzies.  Usually on each other.  However, when you have a class of just two students, drastic measures have to be taken.

Knowing that they were going to have to do multiple ECGs, I planned on having them do at least one a piece on me.  I had my sports bra on and put on a lovely patient gown with the opening in the front and laid back on the bed for them to hook me up to the machine.  Each student took their turn and got good tracings.  I sat up and started peeling off the sticky electrodes and was answering questions when suddenly the privacy curtain parted and my friend and co-worker's head peeked through.

"GunDiva, I have a quick question to...OH MY GOD!  YOU'RE HALF NAKED!"  The poor kid (I call him kid, but he's only a couple of years younger than me) turned beet red. 

Now, let me tell you about Mo.  We've known each other for twenty years; he's been a friend of mine and of Nebalee's since they were in high school.  He was one of my student athletic trainers and one of my co-TAs at CSU.  We've known each other a long, long time. He was also a Coroner's Investigator for ten years and married for several years.  He's seen the female body in just about every way imaginable (including from the inside when he assisted with autopsies).

I laughed it off and said, "It's okay, I've got a sports bra on, what do you need?"

He proceeded to ask his question, but was completely uncomfortable the whole time.  At one point, I was sitting on the bed, looking at him as he stammered through his question and I just burst out laughing.  He finally said, "We've known each other a long time, and this is the most we've ever seen of each other!"  It's true, we've just been friends and as such have maintained such conventions as being clothed during all of our encounters with each other.  Now, on top of being friends, I'm his boss.  Poor, poor kid.

He did get the last word in though, as he walked back into his classroom, I heard him announce, "Well, GunDiva can't come in here to answer your questions because she's half-naked with her class."

I'm Not Really Missing...

...I'm just posting more frequently at Hunted Lyon.  Come on over if you want a peek at what's got me so occupied this month.

I've got a great TST for this week; I just have to find time to sit and write it.

I'm trying to stay caught up on everyone's blogs, but not being very successful.  I'll be back to regular commenting in just a couple of weeks, I promise.

Say What?!

"I'm completely independent of my parents, except financially."

?!?!?

GunDiva of King Soopers (Southern Girl Gang, you might want to pass)

So, here I was on my vacation day, catching up on my blogs (oh, how I miss having reading time) and watching TV when a commercial comes on for these little puppies...

I wasn't really paying attention, but these called my name from the TV.  I tried and tried to ignore their siren call, but at last I gave in.  I managed to justify my trip to the store by combining it with things that the cats needed.  You know, like food and cat litter.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but the need for Pizza Rolls got so strong that I just did it.  I put on a sweatshirt and my tennis shoes and headed to the store.

No shower.

No deoderant.

Hair still wound up on top of my head from bed last night.

In the sweats I'd been wearing while lounging on the couch.

And let's not even talk about the teeth.

Being a good blogger, I took pictures (I'm still not sure why).  My phone, being a better blogger, refused to send them to my email for me to post (I think I'll have to thank my phone for that later).

Move over People of WalMart, here comes GunDiva of King Soopers.

Digger's All Growed Up

Today, Digger officially moved out.  He'd sort of moved out a while ago, but there was still a chance he'd be back.  When your kid "moves out" and only takes a couple of weeks' worth of clothes, you know that there's a chance he'll be back; besides, he had pulled that stunt once already.  He "moved into" his friend's house, but was actually just couch surfing since he didn't have a job and wasn't going to school.  When he came to his senses he moved back home and got his shit together gathered his feces.

He's been living in Wyoming for about a month and a half, but today's the day he actually moved his stuff out of the house.  He and his friends have found a nice four bedroom that they can afford and moved in earlier this week.  Today, they rented a U-Haul truck and loaded up all of their important stuff.  For Digger that meant his poker table, bed and space heater.  When I asked him about the space heater, I was told that the poker table was going to go in the garage and they needed a heater in there to play poker this winter (all in a well, duh, Mom voice).

I parted with one of my cast iron skillets and bought him a new set of pots and pans.  The original plan was to give him some hand-me-down pots and pans, but I decided it would be nice for him to have new ones.  Trust me, they're cheap.  I'm not an idiot.  He's living with two other boys his age and one of their sisters.  The pans are going to get ruined, but at least he can have something new to start out with.

I wasn't sure that I'd ever see the day when he'd be able to move out.  Before RCC and I met, Digger's disease ran our family.  I just didn't see how on earth he was ever going to get it under control and be able to live on his own.  Now, here he is; he has his disease under control, has a job and is supporting himself.  I couldn't be prouder.

He and his roommates invited us to join them for Thanksgiving.  We'll be going, even though it's a heck of a drive, because hosting your first Thanksgiving dinner is a big deal. 

I can't wait.

TST: Hunters?!

Can't believe it's that time again.  Actually, it's not, as I'm scheduling this post in anticipation of losing posting time during NaNoWriMo, but let's just pretend it is.  Head on over to Once Upon A Miracle to link up to share your dirty laundry best stories.  Those of you who love to laugh at my expense (it's okay, if I were you, I'd laugh at my expense too), be sure to head over to Mrs Mom's blog for her take on my trichophobia.

Hunters?!



A couple of weekends ago, Mrs Mom and the BrownEyed Cowgirls joined me at the lodge under the guise of working on Estes' feetsies.  In all fairness, her feetsies did get worked on, but we had all that free time on our hands and decided to go for a ride.

Picture shamelessly stolen from BrownEyed Cowgirls

You notice how we're all wearing orange?  And you see that pumpkin riding on the elk colored horse (Ranger)?  Yeah, I'll go for the orange over-kill when riding a horse that may or may not look like an elk to a lazy hunter.

We loaded up on the orange just in case there were hunters still on the mountain - it was cold cool and overcast; perfect hunting weather.

We were enjoying our ride, exploring the mountainside and giggling like a bunch of, well, girls.  LT, Meg and Mrs Mom rode up a hill to check out an abandoned mine shaft; Compass and I waited at the bottom for them.  They rode up, looked, and began to ride back down.

BANG! a shot rang out from fairly nearby - just the other side of the meadow where we'd just posed for our picture.

Now, Bill described how to make a fist with one butt-cheek to stay on Ranger a couple of weeks ago.  He may have described it, but I demonstrated it.  Ranger does. not. do. guns. 

Let me repeat that: Ranger. Does. Not. Do. Guns. Ever.

He snorted, grew about ten feet, and bounced a couple of time.  I forgot I had a hair phobia and grabbed on to his mane with both hands, while simultaneously perfecting the butt-cheek fist and grabbing onto Ranger's spine.

According to Mrs Mom, Ranger's eyes bugged right out of his head, but I'm pretty sure that she was mistaking them for my eyes.  I puckered up so tight that the anal inversion pushed my eyeballs right out of the sockets.

I'm also pretty sure that the only reason Ranger decided not to bolt after his little bouncing, blow up to ten feet tall, snorting session is that he was afraid of what I would do if he decided to take us for a ride.

It was the longest year of my life, waiting for him to calm down and willing my hands to let go of his mane.  They wouldn't listen.  I had to tell my hands a couple of times to just let go.  Finally, they responded and I worked on releasing my deathgrip on Ranger's back.

Eventually we got it all sorted out and calmed down.  None of us had any errant holes in our bodies or our horses' bodies, which is good.  There was also only one shot, which was good.  We hoped that meant that the hunter had gotten his deer.

Once it was all sorted out, we kind of looked at each other and laughed.  We got all duded up in orange "in case there were hunters on the mountain", but not a single one of us (GunDiva included) actually thought that the hunters might have, you know, guns and would be shooting.

Imagine, hunters with guns.  Huh.  Who woulda thought?

The really good news is that the hunters got their deer; we ran into them on our way back to the lodge and Compass was quick to offer up Eli to pack it out for them.  Talk about a good horse, look at how well he's behaving with a carcass strapped across his back...

Again, photo shamelessly stolen from BrownEyed Cowgirls.