Wednesday, October 29, 2008


I have an older adult class. And yikes is it boring. I mean, here-are-your-powerpoints-now-sit-there-for-2-or-3-hours-while-I-read-them-verbatum boring.

Anyway, maybe it was delirium that made this funny to me. Because nobody else laughed. I just ducked behind my pencil and choked.

Teacher, in older adult, monotone voice: "Patients with Alzeheimers should not smoke. (thank you, I'm glad i'm paying to receive this infomation) Well, for 2 reasons: 1) For health reasons, which are obvious. And 2) They might set the house on fire. And this would not be good." (Unless you're a pyromaniac)

Oh, how I giggled. But reviewing it now, I think it was totally delirium.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Tell me why. I want to know.

Today I called a friend. He's a good friend. Very very patient with my slowness in returning calls. Very very honest in his conversation. I'm pretty sure we talked for an hour and a half. There's a girl he likes. A lot. It's delightful.

You can call it nosy, you can call it female, you can call it stupid, I don't care! BUT, I love love love asking my friends why they like someone. I want to hear it. I love making them dig for words to describe this new found feeling. I want them to think about other things besides the fact that she's beautiful when she stands in the sun and the wind blows her hair or the fact that he's sensitive (what does that mean, anyway?). It's just that... you are my friend. And I am so happy that you have found someone with whom you could possibly grow old. Now tell me why! And most of the time, they do. Because I am willing to listen in silence while they fumble for the right words. I'm not trying to be the devil's advocate, friend, but if all you can say is that he has great biceps, calves, and nice teeth.... I'm sorry, but I will not giggle along with you. Can anyone define shallow?

Anyway, I was talking to said friend and I asked him why. And the floodgates opened! This guy is one of the most logical, eloquent, intelligent guys I know and he was positively stammering. He was repeating himself, tripping over sentences, and stuttering, yet, could not stop talking. I hardly said a word for a good 30 minutes. And he told me why he liked her. It was for her forthrightness, her modesty, her gracefulness, her way of speaking, her beauty, her adventurous spirit, her passion for her work, her love of her family, her way with children, her integrity, her walk with Jesus.... he went on and on and on. I usually get this conversation from girls, so listening to a guy explain what caught his attention was fascinating (and educational). He's trying to keep his emotions in check because he knows that it is possible nothing will come of it and he will say "God is good" regardless. But, oh, how he admires her!

And it caught me: why is this kind of love so amazing to me? Is it because it's just a tiny, little, microscopic, dust-speck of what God has bathed us in? Is it knowing that the only way we can even attempt to love here on earth is because He held our hand and showed us how to do it? He died for me because He was in love with me. He would have done it for just me. I ravish His heart with just one look. He has prepared the feast and sent me the invitation.
And Gomer is my name.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Welcome to the Psych Ward

The dry erase board hung alone. Its message was clear.

New Rule: Keep your pants pulled up
Put on a hospital gown
Stay in your room

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

For lung cancer, press one now

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

- Hello?
- Mrs. Porter? (please read this is a sloooow, hoarse, cigarette-filled voice)
- No, this is her daughter.
- Honey, does your mama have a satellite or cable?
- No ma'am.
- Do ya' think she'd be interested in gettin' a dish?
- I know without a doubt she most certainly is not.
- Well, ooookay. Thank ya' hon'

I must say, this was the most unautomated sales call I have ever received.

Monday, October 6, 2008

oh dog it

This is Jack. A year ago, anyway. And this is courtesy of Jon Meeks's photography skills and Ryan Porter's hand.

This is what he looked like yesterday. He looks like Gollum in this picture.

He was so guilty: ears back, tail tucked, eyes wide, head sunk low. He was pressing himself against the wall as we piled out of the suburban. Dad rolled his eyes, "Alright, look around! Find out what the dog chewed!" I don't know whether to admire him for sticking around, or just call him stupid.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

happy birthday to me

Let's pretend I am a world traveler. These are some of my hotel choices.

This is an old prison in England. Well, it used to be a prison. But you can still lock yourself up at night.

This one's in Mexico. Duh.

It's called a yurt. Say it out loud... because it's fun.

Wales.... yes, one day.

Bring your own water and toilet paper.

It's a cave! In Arizona! But, I don't really want to go to Arizona.

Hooray for treehouses! They say you can watch the jaguars on the jungle floor below you. But I know without a shadow of a doubt that jaguars can climb trees. So, I'll just look at the picture, thank you.

Hopefully, your neighbor will NOT be a blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle.

No dalmation

I am here. I promise that I will never turn to the dark-side of "I-have-a-blog-but-I-only-write-on-it-once-a-year." Lame. Lame lame lame. And don't tell me you don't have time! I have friends who work full time, are in graduate programs, are planning weddings and they update frequently. And don't say you don't know what to write about! You woke up this morning didn't you? You're breathing, aren't you? Write about the awesome God who allows your heart to keep beating, your DNA to correct its own damage, and your loops of Henley to function.

I have community clinicals this semester... which means several things:
1) Different schedule every week
2) End of the day thoughts of "Why was this necessary?"
3) Lots of people, lots of different situations
4) Schedule gaps that allow for kick-butt workout programs at UAB's REC

Two weeks ago, I had to spend a day in a firestation and ride with the rescue team. My dad is a fireman, so I had a small (very small) picture of how things run here. I had been in several stations, had talked to different guys... but I was still nervous. I mean, Dad was always there with me. I was on my own here for eight hours. Gulp. Plus, heck, I'll be honest, most Birmingham stations have 1-2 pretty good-looking guys.
So I'm there at eight... shift change, I'm in the way, I'll just make myself invisible. It was a slow day in Birmingham. Nobody got shot or stabbed. We went out twice, one of which got canceled before we got there. It was funny because they were obviously a little embarrassed that they weren't able to show the young nursing student the dashing life of a fireman. I know they enjoy the assumptions everyone has about them. The whole idea of "We save people's lives, run into burning buildings, and look good while doing." Don't get me wrong... I know they do those things! And that they have to be brave and take risks when those circumstances occur. My Dad has been a fireman for almost twenty years. But it's also because of that, that I have never had any romanticized ideas of firemen. Dad has never played up what they do. Anyway, the rescue team have the radios that they can carry around. They were both young and were bored with the lack of activity so we ran errands most of the day. I kidd you not. We went to a kitchen-supply store, Belk, a grocery store, another station to see the new trucks, and two uniform stores (they bought me the t-shirt they wear to work!). It cracked me up. It was fun walking around stores with them. I was like, yeah, I'm with the firemen. I'm sorry if we smell like smoke or that our hands are dirty. We've had one busy day.