Adventures of Ashinator: Bits and Pieces

On our way to go dress shopping, we passed a gelato shop.

I leaned over to RockCrawlinChef and whispered, "We could go get g-e-l-a-t-o when we're done."

I thought I was being stealthy.

From the backseat, I hear, "Mom. I know how to spell."

~~~~~~~~~~

GONNA DO IT GONNA DO IT GONNA DO IT DO IT TO IT!

Let's get to business. Prom.

It. Was. The. BEE'S KNEES.

It started off sketchy because everyone was making me late and then more people showed up to CJ's for the photographer than was actually planned. Not just like one or two more people, like six more people. I was more than frustrated, needless to say. Then we left for dinner, just me and CJ, and everything was wonderful again. Hibachi was delicious, except the dude choppin' and throwin' our food around everywhere threw a shrimp at me (which I don't like anyway) and got a nasty shrimp grease stain on my dress! That bastard! He's lucky I didn't see it until after we left, otherwise he woulda had a spatula up his ass. Word bird.

*TADA*

Now, we're at the dance. And they have goldfish in the center pieces on the tables. Anybody wanna guess where those fish came from? That's right baybay! Man, those goldfish were such a good idea.

Oh anyways, the theme was "An Evening of Fire and Ice: Where Worlds Collide". It was pretty badass.

*TADA*

After Prom. Was sick! Everything was free. EVERYTHING. Free Qdoba, free Inta, free Cane's, free Domino's. It was beautiful. They also had a blowup thing that was a velcro wall, it just goes without saying, that of course CJ and I took part in that particular activity. It wasn't fun, I repeat, IT WAS NOT FUN. Oh, and also, we got a caricature drawn. I looked like Michael Jackson and CJ looked like Spock. I don't know if that's a Mega Win or a Mega Fail.

*TADA*

Back at home by 2:45 am. Passed out by 2:50 am.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm sorry I didn't write a post last Friday, I had food poisoning. All I wanted was Jello (of the strawberry flavor). That's the only thing (hah) I asked for. (That's a damn lie). Nobody could seem to find any Jello at the store. I was all better by Saturday, guess what I found in the fridge on Sunday? GOSH DARNED STRAWBERRY JELLO. I seriously considered crying, but instead I ate three cups of it and called it good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last night, I made the adult decision to go to CJ's mom's house and hear her out and forgive her. It turned out alright, I don't fully trust her...or even like her that much. But in order to make me and CJ stronger I needed to forgive her. It was the only way to fix our relationship.

I've said all I've got to say for this week.

Thank you and that will be all.

Signed-THE BIG BOPPER.

(That's right, I'm back from the dead, along with my boy Tupac)

Reason 1,458,932 Why I Love Colorado!

Spring Snow!

Photo credit: http://z.about.com/d/cameras/1/0/M/4/springsnow.jpg

I love spring snow.

I know, I know, everyone's sick of snow.

But the best thing about spring snow in Colorado

Is that it will be gone tomorrow (or this afternoon).

It never gets really cold with spring snows,

And, most importantly, the more moisture we get

The fewer forest fires we'll get

Which means

Safer mountain riding for me!

Update: 11:13am and the three inches of heavy, wet white stuff is G-O-N-E!
I LOVE Colorado!

Another Resolution Check-in!

So, I sort of met Resolution #2 by sending my query for TALES into the publisher on March 4 (they received it on March 9 - I cyber-stalked).  My goal was to get TALES sent off by the end of January, but that just didn't happen.  I am thrilled that I did summon the cajones to actually write the query and send off the query and sample pages.

Now it looks like I'm going to meet my Resolution #4, the one where I start my Master's degree by the May mod, which starts May 10th.  Just because it's free doesn't mean that I don't have a million hoops to jump through, including hoops from HR.  Today, my Executive Director had to fill out personnel evaluation to make sure I was worthy of the degree.  Hey, I'm not complaining, it sure beats taking a GRE to get into grad school.

I'm super excited and scared to death.  I'm going to have to take Biostatistics, which I all but failed in college.  I'm not quite sure how on earth I (barely) passed it to begin with.  The thought of taking a graduate-level Biostats class terrifies me.  Once I'm through with that, it'll be all go (or so I keep telling myself).

The only problem with going to school is that I see it potentially cutting into my blog time, but since I don't get paid to blog, I suppose I can sacrifice a little.  But I'm not really going any where, just slowing down (maybe).

True Story Tuesday: A Close Shave

Rachel and Mr. Daddy may not allow me to join in their weekly fun after this post, so be sure to click on over to them and check out all of the other TSTs.  This post may offend those with delicate sensibilities - consider yourself warned.

A Close Shave

I once worked for a Urologist (you know, a d*ck doctor).  Every Friday, we'd do vasectomies, so that the men would be able to lay around the house and do nothing all weekend.  Really. Doctor's orders.  No lifting anything heavier than five pounds, no yard work, no picking up the kids, nothing that would increase abdominal pressure and cause potential bleeding into the, uh, area that had just been surgically altered.  My job as the d*ck doctor's MA was to escort the patient back to the room, make sure the instruments were out, and escort the patient back out to the waiting room.  The doc was very self-sufficient and didn't require my assistance at all.  Hey, I wasn't complaining.

I moved on from my job at the Urologist to working for a family practice.  The doc I was assigned to was not necessarily a pleasure to work with.  And that may be an understatement.  He assumed (and you know what that means), since I'd worked for a d*ck doc, that I'd assisted in vasectomies.  I had not. 

We had a vasectomy scheduled on, believe it or not, my birthday.  The doc briefed me on what he wanted laid out on his surgical tray, asked me a couple of questions about how my former doctor had performed his vasectomies (which I knew from observing one) and sent me to get the patient.  I roomed the patient, instructed him to strip from the waist down and gave him a drape to cover himself with.  I went back out to tell the doc that his patient was ready and the doc asked if I'd prepped the patient. 

First miscommunication.  I had prepped the patient just like I did for the d*ck doc.  The new doc went in, got the consent form signed and came back out with more instructions, "Do a surgical prep from knees to navel and don't forget to shave."

Hmmm...I knew that my old doc had shaved a very small area on the scrotum, but that's it.  I knew for a fact that he didn't shave his patients from knees to navel.  I certainly didn't have to do the shaving and I was a bit nervous.  I took a deep breath, went back into the procedure room and told the patient I was going to have to shave him and prep the area.  Thank Lord I did have practice working with half-naked men from my previous job, so I was able to maintain a straight face when I was telling the patient was I was going to have to do.

I took another deep breath, gloved up and set to shaving.  The patient and his wife questioned the extensive shave job and I admitted that I'd never been asked to shave a patient so thoroughly before, but that each doctor has their own way of doing things.  About ten minutes into my prep, the doc came into the room to see what was taking so long, the patient was scheduled right before lunch and my long prep time was running us late.

Imagine my embarrassment when the doc came into the room and clarified his instructions. The surgical prep was to be from knees to navel, the shaving - not so much.

Happy freaking birthday to me.

9Health Fair

I've been talking up the 9HealthFair on my blog for two years now.  As I was posting my videos on YouTube, it dawned on me that there might be some other videos up, so I searched it.  I found a short (five minute or so) video on the history of the 9Health Fair.  When I viewed it, I got an extra bonus - at 31 seconds, there's a still photo of me working it way back in college.  This was taken in 1997, the year I got divorced (I've been with the Fair for a long time).

2010 Fort Collins 9HF

Finally!

The 9HealthFair is over.  Don't get me wrong, I love it.  I love preparing for the Health Fair, I love working the Health Fair and I love it when it's over.  Usually, the Fort Collins Fair serves approximately 2,500 people over two days.  This year, our numbers were down, which was a disappointment to me.  We only served about 1,800 people.  This is the first year we haven't hit 2,000 people.

I would have thought with the economy in the toilet the way it is, that more people would have taken advantage of the free screenings.  Even our blood draws were offered at cost: the Blood Chemistry Screening is valued at about $800 and we only charge $30; the Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA) usually runs around $200 and we only charged $25.  Seriously, thanks to Quest Diagnostics, we offer the lowest-priced blood tests around.  Everything else - skin cancer screening, oral cancer screening, bone density, digital rectal exams, testicular and breast exams - all free.  So, why, when the majority of the nation is struggling, were we down almost seven hundred people?  It makes no sense to me (unless, of course, everyone's waiting for their *free* healthcare from Obama).

Despite being disappointed, we did still serve 1,800 people and that's a whole lot more than if we didn't have the 9HealthFair.  And I'm so unbelievably proud of my students - they were amazing! The people in the blue scrubs are my students.  There was another school there in black t-shirts, and they brought almost 100 volunteers.  I only took 50 - it's easier to keep control of smaller groups and make sure they're acting professionally.  For some of my students this is the first "grown up" job they've had and the professional behavior is completely different from any of the throw away jobs they've had in the past.

Blood Pressure

Phlebotomy

Three of my grads who now help run the Fair: PeeWee, Roo, and Ria

The Calm Before The Storm

Tomorrow is our big 9HealthFair.

Tonight, we wait.

The site is set up: all forty-four phlebotomy stations are stocked and ready to go; the twenty-four blood pressure stations are lined up like soldiers awaiting the fight; the twelve sixteen-head centrifuges are laying dormant on their tables waiting for the chaos to begin in fourteen hours.

The other stations, which we don't staff, are standing ready for the onslaught of participants tomorrow morning.  We're planning on between 1,500 and 1,800 participants tomorrow alone.  Saturday, believe it or not, will be our slow day; we'll only do between 1,200 and 1,500.

I can't wait.

Bring it.

Prom Pictures From The Pro

So, as requested, here are the "real" prom pictures...

I'm pretending I don't see CJ's hand on my daughter's ass.

CJ

Ashinator all dolled up.

Girls With Guns

Mrs Mom from Oh HorseFeathers! and I are teaming up on a new blog, Girls With Guns; one dedicated to our interest in guns.  Though we are by no means experts, we do have some experiences and information that we can share with other women.  We intend to share tips on situational awareness, personal safety, and, of course, guns.  However, we both know that not everyone wants a gun to protect herself, so we'll offer other options as well.

Included will be our stories of how we got where we are.  How we became "pistol packin' mommas" and why.

Hop on over and give our new blog a try.

Oh, My! Another Award.

And, yet again, I've been remiss in posting it, but don't mis-understand, it's not because I don't LOVE it!  One of problems of scheduling posts is that it's hard for me to just pop in fun things.  I schedule my posts out because my work schedule is so crazy that Sundays are the only days I've got to write and post.

Linda at The Good, The Bad, The Worst gave me the Honest Scrap award.  This is the first award I ever saw awarded when I was a baby blogger and I've coveted it ever since; how did she know that I wanted it so badly?

Not only do I love the way it sounds when you say it, I like what it means to...that I open my mouth (or, in the case of the blog world, open my laptop), that the crap that ensues is honest and heartfelt.  I never meant for this blog to grow beyond my family and friends, but I love that it has and I've met so many new friends through blogging.

So, this is what Linda had to say about me (awww, shucks):

Gun Diva at Just Another Perfect Day is a great storyteller! This awesome lady wore cowboy boots with her wedding dress and totally rocked both!

You know, since I really, really want to sell my book, the fact that she called me a good storyteller made my day even better!  And, yes, I did wear cowboy boots with my wedding dress.

Of course, there are rules.  The first is to brag on the award (see above), give heartfelt thanks to the giver of said award (okay, I may have made that up), pass on the award to other bloggers (I'll get to that in a minute), and tell ten honest things about myself (that's gonna be hard to do - what don't you guys know about me?).

Deb at Menopausal New Mom, gets this award.  I'm pretty sure she's received it in the past, but she's amazing and honest about how hard it can be to raise children.

Crazy Texas Mommy also gets this award, as her brand of honesty keeps me in stitches.  One of these days when she's a world famous blogger, I hope she remembers me.

And I know Ashinators new best gay friend, T!nK (it's okay, I can call him that - he said so), has already received this award, but he deserves it.  His honesty earned him an honorable discharge from the Army under Don't Ask, Don't Tell (which, while we're being honest, is absolute bullshit).

I can't give this award to everyone on my blog roll, but I so would!  If I don't like the blog and find it award-worthy, I don't hit the follow button.  It's pretty simple.

Ten Things About GunDiva:

• I hate my first name because it reminds me of my great-grandmother who was a million and five years old when I was born on her birthday.  Don't get me wrong, I loved my Little Lita, but she looked like one of those shriveled up apple granny dolls.

•  All three of my children are birth control failures: Digger = OrthoNovum; Ashinator = Ortho777; Monster = OrthoTriCyclen.  At 23, I had a knock-down, drag-out fight with my doctor for a tubal ligation.  I'm still afraid of getting pregnant and it's been almost fifteen years.
• I've never owned a new-new vehicle, and I want one.  All of my cars have been disposable that I can pay for up front and not have a payment hanging over my head (well, all except for one, but he got that in the divorce).
• I *barely* graduated from college and am now a college instructor (how's that work?).  I obviously learned a thing or two, but it didn't show in my grades.  I also had a lousy advisor who had me retake 26 credits, assuring me that the better grades would replace the bad ones.  Guess what?  He was wrong and my GPA suffered for it.
• I applied to med school and didn't get in.  I rocked my MCATs, but my abysmal GPA worked against me.  It worked out for the best in the long run.
• I'm terrified of needles.  When I'm in control of them, it's all good, but if you aim the pointy end toward me, we're going to have problems.
• I'm the oldest of four children (and the best, if you ask me).
• I was a single mom for almost twelve years.
• I have threatened to kill someone and was ready to back it up (stalkers beware).
• I really, really want TALES FROM THE TRAIL to sell.  Keep sending good vibes to Johnson Publishing in Boulder, Colorado.  I want to see my book on the shelves, for sale, and I want to see it happen soon.

2010 Loveland 9HF

Today was the first of two 9HealthFairs my students will work.  We spend the entire beginning of the year working toward this goal; it's the best "real world" experience the students can get while still, you know, students.  We put through about 700 participants (patients) today; next week we'll do approximately 2,500 in two days, so today's really just warm up for the main event.

Here's a little video of my students at work...



It's a fun, exhilarating, exhausting day, but so worth it.

Prom Pics

Here are a couple of snapshots taken while the real photographer was snapping away at the kids.

Ashinator and CJ are on the right in the front row.

The photo shoot was just supposed to be the two of them,

but their friends found out and the photographer ended up

shooting all eleven of them.

I can't wait for the pics from the professional photographer.

Prom Vacation

The Ashinator is taking a vacation from her adventures this week, as tonight is PROM!

She's pretty excited about it and can't focus on, well, anything.

I'll post pictures as soon as we've got them and she'll be back next week with more of her unique...Ashinator-isms.

Ashinator Riled Up The Animal Rights Folk

That daughter of mine...
Prank involving goldfish cruel coloradoan.com The Coloradoan

Be sure to read the comments; they're priceless.

For the record, I've spoken to some of the employees at the high school and they've given me an update on the status of the fish.  Most of them were rescued and "rehomed"; those poor, poor goldfish whose lives were saved by not being fed to carnivorous animals are either living at home with a student or growing up in the science lab until they are big enough to be released into the school's pond.  Many staff members have also adopted the fish and have them living on their desks.

Heck With Swimming Tigers, We Have Swimming Kittens

I'll admit it, we allow our animals to drink out of the toilets.  Heck, it's better than having to remember to fill a water bowl every time and it's fresh water (as long as everyone remembers to flush).  Allie-bird has a hole in her lip that makes it not so pleasant to walk across the bathroom floor once she's been drinking, but that's just a minor annoyance.

On Saturday, the kittens were watching their mom drink out of the toilet and thought they'd give it a try.  It was sort of successful.  They fell in.  But they didn't freak out.  They obviously trust that their humans won't let anything happen to them.  They stood in the bottom of the toilet and drank to their little hearts were content.

Like any good blogger, I ran for the camera before rescuing them from the toilet.  The grey and white one was the one who fell in first, but I wasn't fast enough to catch all three of them in the watering hole.

I pulled them out and plopped them on a towel on the floor to dry off, then I realized that they were shivering like crazy and realized they were hypothermic.  Aw, heck, who needs to be to work on time anyway?  So I spent a few minutes drying them briskly until they stopped shivering.

Sad thing is, they think that's how they get drinks of water now.  They don't think twice about jumping down into the toilet instead of balancing delicately like their mother.  There are water trails throughout the house now that the kittens can water themselves.

True Story Tuesday: Don't Shoot!

Thank you Rachel and Mr. Daddy, yet again, for hosting our little party every week.

When I was single I used to sleep with my Glock on my headboard.  I'd had a stalker at one point and had cut back from carrying everywhere (including the bathroom and shower) at all times, to just having my gun nearby.  As my kids got older and their friends started coming around, I carried less and less, just because I didn't want any stupid kids doing stupid kid stuff if they saw my gun laying around.  It got so that I didn't even always have it on my headboard and when I did, I didn't keep it loaded; I left a full magazine laying right next to my gun.  Before I started shooting competition, I always kept it loaded because I know that under stress the first thing to go is fine motor coordination and I didn't want to be in a position that I needed the gun but lacked the coordination to slip the magazine in the mag well.  Shooting competitions had given me the confidence that I knew I could slap my magazine in my gun and cycle the slide in a fraction of a second, even under stress.

One summer, five or six years ago, my brother Deejo came up to visit from Arizona.  He'd gone out with some friends one night and as far as I knew, was headed back up to our parents' place.  It was H-O-T that night when I went to bed, so I left all of the windows open and put my Glock on the headboard, magazine next to it.  About 11:30 or so, I heard someone pull up in front of the house and didn't recognize the sound of the car, so I waited to see if they were just parking in front of my house to go visit the drug dealer across the street.  I heard the driver get out of the car and start across my lawn, so I picked up the Glock, slapped the magazine in and cycled the slide.

With all of the windows wide open, whoever got out of the car could hear me load the gun, which I hadn't thought about.  The footsteps stopped about halfway across the yard and I hear Deejo yell up to my window, "For Christ's Sake, don't shoot me, I just have to pee!"

Poor guy.  Just wanted to use my bathroom before the long drive up to Mom's place.

Disclaimer:  In no time was my brother ever in danger of being shot, unlike my brother-in-law.  Deejo heard me load up and was being a smart arse.

These Boots Ain't Made For Walking,

But that's just what I did.

Remember my favoritest boots on the planet?  These obnoxious babies...

Yeah, I love those boots.  I've been known to pair them with a bathsheet to change propane, or with running pants to start the car, and on occasion, I even wear them with jeans like I'm supposed to.  They've got some good gription on the bottom so if I ever have to hike in the mountains, I don't slip and slide all over the place like I did when I had slick leather soles on my boots.  They are fabulous boots.  Unless you have to hike very far in them.  Then they suck.

Last Monday, I took the day off to go see my baby girl.  She's been out to winter pasture since October last year, and with the weather warming up, I'm getting the horse itch something fierce.  I met my parents and we drove out to the pasture that Estes had recently been moved to with a couple of other horses.

The horses were visible when we parked, so we thought it'd be an easy catch day.

We were wrong.  So Bill tried his patented natural horseman approach to catching horses, pretend to graze.

Mom swears that he's caught many a strange (I mean unfamiliar, not crazy) horse this way.

I think they're both looney.

It didn't work.

The horses went away.

Away-away, not just a few steps.

I'm not sure how big this pasture is but the horses are a good half mile from us at this point,

they kept going.

So we hiked.

And hiked.

And hiked some more.

Bill managed to turn them, and we ran them back to where we started.

Those little snots just had to make sure we earned the right to be in their presence.

Once we got them turned and back to where we started,

Mom was able to walk right up to Paint and catch him, the got an arm around Estes.

Audubon (the trouble maker who took the herd away at the beginning) even deigned to let me touch her.

They'd overrun the grooming supplies, so we hauled their butts back to the supplies.

Estes was a fuzzy mess.  That girl has got hair and then some.

It took forever, because every swipe of Mom's magic rubber curry thingie filled up with hair.

But Estes appreciated it...

She even thanked me.

Trust me, this is as affectionate as she gets.

Mom worked on her mane and tail,

because I. Don't. Do. Hair.

Tell me, is she in horsey heaven or what?

She's got me wrapped around her cute little double ott hooves and she knows it!

One last cuddle before she heads back to the herd.

Today's Work-out

So not many people would consider working at a B&B as exercise, but those are the people who romanticize B&Bs.  The reality is that it's a lot of work.  Especially if the B&B has thirteen bedrooms and sleeps twenty-eight. 

Mom needed some help, while Bill's off with his family, so I went up last night to help with dinner, which meant cooking for only twelve guests - not too much exercise, but constant movement.  Luckily, last night, the lodge was only half-full.  After dinner, the table needed to be bussed and the dishes washed.  Again, not a lot of strenuous exercise, but constant movement.

I slept like a rock last night - always do at the lodge.  I joke that it's because I'm hypoxic at that altitude, but really, I think it's because the mountains are just part of me and I sleep like a baby in them.

This morning, cook breakfast, set the table, buss the table, wash dishes.  Just steady constant movement.  After breakfast, time to tear down the bedrooms on the second floor; strip the sheets off the bed and haul them down the stairs to the laundry room.  Three *large* laundry baskets full of sheets and towels down the stairs - beginning to feel like work - or at least weight-bearing exercise.

And were we done?  Oh no.  It's still winter at the lodge, so it was on to haul in firewood.  Six loads apiece, through the hot tub room, dining room and living room.

That slave driver even got me to help make up the beds in one room (I left before all of the laundry was done, or I'd've been remaking all of the beds with her).

The bonus?  I mean, besides the exercise.  I got an amazing nap after hauling in the wood.  I love naps - how many calories does that burn?  Certainly I burned a few calories climbing to my room on the third floor and carrying my dirty linens down.

Okay, so my mom can work circles around me at the lodge, but she's not forty pounds overweight.  Oh, and she does this every day, so she's in shape for it.  Tomorrow, I know that I'll feel muscles I forgot I had. 

On the way home from the lodge, I was mentally writing this post (which was nothing like what just came out of my fingers) and I passed the area where Mom's horses are wintering.  Then I did a double take and slammed on the brakes.  The herd was at the river, just a few feet from the road.  Of course I had to stop to see the babies.  I haven't seen Mom's herd since they went down in November (Estes went down in October and is being kept on the "fat" pasture to keep weight on her).

I climbed through the fence and called them over.

Ranger was the first to come over for cuddles,

but when he found out I didn't have treats he went back to grazing.

Doc isn't part of Mom's herd, but is part of the winter herd.

Dutch is the horse that Digger first fell in love with,

he's also not part of Mom's herd, but is part of the winter herd.

Washoe could maybe use some time on the fat pasture with Estes.

He's looking a bit ribby, but was happy, happy to see me :)

Jesse looks great.

She tends to run heavy, but has wintered beautifully.

I'm missing a picture of one of the horses - Peanut - who wouldn't get far enough away from me for me to take a picture.  You may remember Peanut from Digger's wild ride, he's gotten much cuddlier than he was when we used him at the livery.

Just When I Thought I'd Run Out...

Really, I said I didn't have any more GunDiva Fails.

I was wrong.

I went into the gun shop to work a couple of weeks ago and headed into the office to shovel off a space for the computer.  I walked into the office and saw this...

Being the smart ass I am, I hollered out to the boss, "Is this a present for me?"

I picked up the box, the idiot that I am, thinking it's something yummy that maybe I should eat.  It was heavy and still all wrapped up, so I turned it upside down to see what the label said.  'Cause, really a box that size, that heavy had to be full of fudge or something most excellent to eat.

Nope.  It was the boss' dog.  Who had been put to sleep earlier in the week and I didn't know about it.  Luckily, the boss didn't hear me when I asked about the present.

I gingerly put the box back down on the desk, patted it, and said, "Sorry, Kirb."

RIP Kirby dog.

Adventures of Ashinator: The Great Goldfish Adventure

I'll set the scene for you. It's Friday April 2nd and I'm really not feeling like independent study would be beneficial today.

After US History I walked to my locker, innocently, as my best friend RyRy approached me. He asked whether or not I would be attending 2nd period or not. I asked what was up and he procceeded to open his locker and show me a bag filled with 50 live little feeder goldfish.

That was the moment I knew I was finally going to do something with my high school career.

Second period started and our friends all went to class, so RyRy put the bag of fish in his backpack and we walked anxiously toward our first victim. The San Juan bathroom. He headed into the boys bathroom and put a fish in every toilet and urnial, when he finished he walked out and we made the trade. He handed me his backpack and I handed him my purse. It was a good color on him. I walked into the bathroom and a fish in every toilet and I was on the last one when I heard this, "WHAT THE F***! THERE'S A F***ING FISH IN THE URNIAL!" I threw the last fish in the toilet and ran out in time to see a 6 foot tall African-American (to be politically correct) running out of the bathroom screaming.

RyRy and I clearly had to rethink our stragedy.

We left school and went to get some zip-locs so we could divide up the fish for a more smooth operation.

That's when we got the call from our pal, Krispen, "Hahahah! The janitors keep trying to flush the fish but they're just swimming back up the pipes!"

When me and RyRy got back we successfully completed our mission and put up the finishing touches. Posters that read, "SAVE THE GOLDFISH!"

And the Rocky student body did just that. They saved all the goldfish (with minimal casualties) and brought them to the library. The librarians had heard about the prank and took a fish bowl full of plants, dumped out the plants, and made a safe haven for the little fishies. They were even giving the fish away to students for pets!

So, overall, Friday was pretty successful. And, we didn't get caught, nobody even knew it was us. Until, of course, we got on facebook after school and bragged about it.

Goldfish prank=success.

Wednesday Weigh-in

I admitted last week that I'd gained weight, rather than lost it, so my weigh in last week was 188.5 pounds (ugh!).  Today, my weigh in was 187.5 pounds, so I'm down one lousy pound, but at least it's down, not up.

I'd post pictures, but I can't find my camera cord.  Once I do, we'll be back in business.

I took Monday off of work and went to see my girl (again, pictures stuck in camera).  I'll post the whole long story in a couple of days, but the short story is that I walked all over hill and dale for an hour tracking her down and then spent another thirty minutes grooming her.  Guess that counts as a workout, right?

Haven't made it to the gym yet, but I'm still working my gawdawful long hours; today was a "short" day at nine hours.  Next week, my schedule drastically changes for the better and I'll be able to schedule gym hours.  Gotta keep that scale moving in the right direction!

True Story Tuesday: A Shocking Story

As always, thank you to Rachel and Mr. Daddy for hosting this little weekly fun fest.

A month or so after RockCrawlinChef and I got engaged we were still twitterpated and all kissy-face all the time.  It didn't matter where we were, we were always sneaking kisses.  It was pretty disgusting.  Good God, we'd become one of "those" couples. 

*Gag*

We were in the grocery store and it was a really dry day; like negative humidity, the kind that just breeds static.  We'd both been shocked repeatedly from the cart alone.  It was to the point of being ridiculous - I don't recall ever building up so much static just pushing a darn shopping cart.  I got shocked one last time and decided that I wasn't going to let go of the cart; RCC would have to put whatever we wanted into it and I was going to keep both hands on the cart so I wouldn't get shocked anymore.

Well, it seemed like a good idea.

We were walking down the paper goods aisle, which was deserted, and decided to sneak a little smooch.

RCC leaned in, I tilted my head up. And BAM!  We didn't even make contact, but I'd built up so much static electricity pushing the cart that the electricity arced from my nose to his.  We jumped apart like we'd both been hit with a cattle prod.  I felt that shock all the way through my nose and into my upper lip.  My eyes welled up with tears and when I looked at him rubbing his nose, I saw that it had the same effect on him. 

I'm sure the other shoppers wondered what happened over in the toilet paper aisle to cause all of the loud cursing and laughing.  When we stopped cursing and laughing and wiped the tears from our eyes, we took a look at each other's nose.  Sure enough, we both had a red burn on the tips of our noses that lasted for days.

We've since learned to ground ourselves before getting too kissy-face and the paper goods aisle holds no interest for us at all anymore.

I Got Tagged!

Michelle over at Momma's Pixie Dreams tagged me in a photo meme.  The challenge was to go into the first folder in my My Pictures folder and choose the 10th photo and tell the story behind it.  Here goes...

Digger, Monster, GunDiva, RockCrawlinChef, Ashinator

This one was a lot easier than I thought.  This picture is the first "official" family picture taken at our wedding.  We'd done family pictures once we got engaged and we'd taken a snapshot while we were out go-karting the day of the wedding.  This one, however, was snapped right after our ceremony (and before I headed over to get my picture taken with Estes).  And, yes, I wore cowboy boots with my wedding dress.

The rules state that I'm supposed to challenge five other bloggers to this, but I can't choose just five.  I've got a lot of new followers (and I'm following a lot of new-to-me blogs) who I'd like to learn more about, so I'm throwing the challenge out to everyone.  It's fun - you never know what you're going to find in your folder.  Trust me, if I'd had my choice as to which picture I wanted to choose, I would have found one more flattering - in fact, the 11th picture in my folder is so much better, but I followed the rules and choose the 10th.

Happy Easter!

Here's hoping that you all have a fabulous Easter and enjoy your family and friends.

(Gun) Shop Talk

This one's short and sweet.

I only heard one side of this conversation, but it still perked my ears up.

"Gun Shop, help ya?"

"You're calling to check on the status of your gun.  What kind of gun is it?"

"It's a revolver with a clip?" (Note to non-gun people, revolvers don't have clips or magazines)

"Mmhhmm.  Is it a revolver or a semi-auto?"

"It's a revolver.  With a clip."  Pause, "I'll have to check with the gunsmith on this one."

Now, I really believe that if someone owns a gun they should not only know how to use it, but should know what kind of gun it is.  I don't really care if people don't know the make and model of their guns, but they ought to know if it's a shotgun, rifle, pistol, or revolver.  Can I just say I feel a lot better that this gun is currently in our hands at the shop and not his?

~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, you may feel the same about me as I feel about that customer after you hear my next GunDiva Fail.

When I was working the sales floor at the Gun Shop, I was armed at all times.  Now that I'm just a glorified data entry person, I never carry.  Since I'm working in the office, the bad guys would have to fight their way through three other armed people to get to me and from where I sit in the office, I have three loaded weapons within reach at all times.  Carrying would kind of be overkill.

A little backstory:  My first handgun was a Glock 23.  I loved that gun; my family had all pitched in to buy it for me for my birthday one year.  Over time, I realized that although I loved, loved that gun, it didn't fit my hand well and I was getting serious about competing, so I had to find a gun that fit my hand better.  Luckily, I had a lot of shooting friends who were generous with their guns and I got to shoot all kinds of guns until I found one that I loved even more than my Glock.  My friend Z let me shoot his Para LTC and I fell head-over-heels in love with it.  The Glock went away and the Para arrived.

The sidewall of the desk in the office is metal and the boss keeps supermagnets on it.  I'm still not sure why he's got a whole passel of them on the sidewall, but for well over a year I paid them no mind other than to just play with them.  I could mosey into the office, cock a Glock-holstered hip against the desk's sidewall and talk to the boss without any problems.

Until I switched from my Glock to my new Para LTC. 

About a month or so after I got my new Para, I went into the office to talk to the boss about something, took up my usual position and felt a thunk.  I looked down and saw that those supermagnets had gotten ahold of my gun.  Not a problem, it's just a magnet, right?

No, it wasn't just *a* magnet. It wasn't just *a* supermagnet.  It was the whole passel of supermagents.  They had all been attracted to my gun and I was stuck.  Not just a little stuck, either.  Now, this was at the time when I was my fittest.  I didn't weigh a whole lot, but I was strong.  The boss sat in his chair and watched with amusement as I tried to disengage myself from the magnets.  Nothing doing.  I struggled a bit more and succeeded in getting even more stuck (as if it was possible).  That struggling caused the magnets to move, but not disengage.

The gun was new and the holster was new, so the gun didn't slide out of it easily.  By the time I finished trying to free myself, I was on my tippy-toes, hanging by my gun attached to the desk.  I threw up my hands and looked at Boss.

He made some smartass comment about me getting stuck and got up to help me.  It took both of us (he's 6'4" and well over 250#) to break me free of the damn supermagnets.

It didn't stop the smartass remarks, but he did have to admit that there was no way I'd've been able to break away from those by myself.

GunDiva Fail #2

Note:  I still cannot walk into the office without giving the sidewall as large a berth as possible, despite the fact that I'm not armed when I walk into the office.  I am easily trainable.

Adventures of Ashinator

Review of the week

Sunday: Exciting

Monday: Pointless

Tuesday: In-ferbie-us (an excess of ferbies - huh?)

Wednesday: Sketchy

Thursday: Pleasant

Friday: Appreciated

Ashinator, "Mom, I just wasn't funny this week."

Don't Mess With The Blogfia!

One of my Blogfia family members, Jane, is facing a rough stretch. 

Last night, her son was jumped and spent the night in the ER.  You see, there's been  an "uprising" of bullies at his school, who have been terrorizing the other kids.  Last night, it was his turn.

Seriously, what is wrong with these kids?

I heard a something in my class today, "I'm gonna beat you like your mother shoulda."  I'm kinda feeling that way right now towards those boys.  Before y'all get all pissed off about violence begetting violence, I'm stating how I fell, not what I'll do.