Rain...
Monday night/Tuesday morning... 0200, night shift on Adolescent Psych in the Big City. Each nurse gets a half hour meal break. The RRR spent his by slipping on his hooded sweatshirt, called a "hoodie" in this brave new millennium, and walking in the rain the perimeter of the hospital campus. For some unknown reason staff are not to leave the "campus" while on break. But the mile and a half circumference is within the letter of the law. Out the cafeteria door this night, down to the bike trail along the river, up past the maintenance shop, around the far sides of the back parking lots, then the perimeter sidewalk, then around the chopper pad, past the main entrance. One of the smokers there hacked and coughed and asked what the heck I was doing. "Walking down the blood sugar, poor man's insulin." Instant acceptance. A person who likes walking in the rain at 0200 watching the lights reflect off the puddles and feeling the rain drops is weird and a little... Scary. A diabetic who fears hyperglycemia... Perfectly normal and understandable. Same -- same keeping the fishing pole out over the side of the boat as RRR and son float down the river, there's a PURPOSE they're here. It's OK.
The hoodie is in the dryer now and I sit here sipping on my organic aloe vera, colloidal silver, and 17 medicinal herb tonic, and contemplate these things.
Lunch is ready. Mrs. RRR made bread tonight as I slept. I woke up to the house warm and yeasty smelling with rain pounding on the roof. Stood by the stove waiting for the coffee to heat up and ate her fresh, hot bread with butter melting into it. Now there's a hamburger patty and a crisp tart apple and a cup of Mrs. RRR's homemade yogurt. I've tasted it already. It has banana slices and strawberry slices in it.
A sudden shriek from down the hall, patient vomiting in wastebasket loudly and dramatically. As on the hypochondriac's tombstone, "I Told You I Was Sick". Perhaps I'll wait on the yogurt.
To answer one question about the sermon from Sunday: the modern English version that suggested Noah's family was 601 years old instead of him was the Berkeley. I actually like it. 1st passage I look at in any new version is Romans 13:1-7. If I like the way it flows, I'll probably be able to tolerate the rest. Though I'm still waiting for one honest enough to translate the Greek "baptizo" (Sp?) "immerse" instead of the cowardly transliteration "baptize". I don't care if King James would have beheaded them when that abomination started, honesty should count for something, look at the misery and foolishness it has cost over the last 500 years.
Sunday night was clear with a storm coming. Took my walk early as tonight. But became desperately tired on the way home. I pulled off at the prairie Center and napped in the parking lot. Awakening, I found the skies had cleared from the rain and walked the two mile trail. As tonight, earthworms made straight lines across the trail, the sun shining through them illustrating their digestive systems. In two miles I only accidentally stepped on one. The Buffs placidly ignored me except for the Alpha bull who snorted once to remind me he was in charge. Call them bisons if you will, to me they're Buffs, a ton or more of rich maroon meat, handy bones, and the world's warmest potential robe, on the hoof. The western writer Zane Grey helped save the last tiny herd that were the ancestors of all now living. His book about it is worth reading.
Good night, fellow rangers everywhere.
The hoodie is in the dryer now and I sit here sipping on my organic aloe vera, colloidal silver, and 17 medicinal herb tonic, and contemplate these things.
Lunch is ready. Mrs. RRR made bread tonight as I slept. I woke up to the house warm and yeasty smelling with rain pounding on the roof. Stood by the stove waiting for the coffee to heat up and ate her fresh, hot bread with butter melting into it. Now there's a hamburger patty and a crisp tart apple and a cup of Mrs. RRR's homemade yogurt. I've tasted it already. It has banana slices and strawberry slices in it.
A sudden shriek from down the hall, patient vomiting in wastebasket loudly and dramatically. As on the hypochondriac's tombstone, "I Told You I Was Sick". Perhaps I'll wait on the yogurt.
To answer one question about the sermon from Sunday: the modern English version that suggested Noah's family was 601 years old instead of him was the Berkeley. I actually like it. 1st passage I look at in any new version is Romans 13:1-7. If I like the way it flows, I'll probably be able to tolerate the rest. Though I'm still waiting for one honest enough to translate the Greek "baptizo" (Sp?) "immerse" instead of the cowardly transliteration "baptize". I don't care if King James would have beheaded them when that abomination started, honesty should count for something, look at the misery and foolishness it has cost over the last 500 years.
Sunday night was clear with a storm coming. Took my walk early as tonight. But became desperately tired on the way home. I pulled off at the prairie Center and napped in the parking lot. Awakening, I found the skies had cleared from the rain and walked the two mile trail. As tonight, earthworms made straight lines across the trail, the sun shining through them illustrating their digestive systems. In two miles I only accidentally stepped on one. The Buffs placidly ignored me except for the Alpha bull who snorted once to remind me he was in charge. Call them bisons if you will, to me they're Buffs, a ton or more of rich maroon meat, handy bones, and the world's warmest potential robe, on the hoof. The western writer Zane Grey helped save the last tiny herd that were the ancestors of all now living. His book about it is worth reading.
Good night, fellow rangers everywhere.
posted by Shamgar | 12:04 AM
1 Comments:
It's ridiculous that you can't leave the campus. It's like when you're working at McDonald's they don't allow you to bring outside food in to eat at break. After soaking yourself with their grease you have to eat some of it or eat nothing. For the eight days I worked there, I chose the latter. You are also so right about having a good reason to do something making you look less scary.
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