Le Monde de Fromage de Kate

This is so true. You just cannot argue with science.

Try it yourself:
Cheese Test: What type of cheese are you?

Holy Cow. People do still play this game (at least that’s what my extensive, scientific and undisputedly reliable internet research tells me). And as for “a rhyme for rambo” – it is a rhyming game. Apparently, one should play crambo or dumb crambo with one’s children.

Is it because of the cabbage?

The game crambo originated around 1600.
The word “crambo” is from the Latin for cabbage.

Cabbage? That must be why it’s such a popular game, even today…

The old adage says, “Don’t let the cat out of the bag.” Then again, I believe it refers to the particular “don’t buy a pig in a poke” circumstance. Oh, the good ol’ days when you pass off some rotten cat as a valuable swine and then have a good laugh about the whole thing over your tankard of mead.
But what do you do about this?

She did put herself in the bag, mind you.

So they’re cutting our little office into even more wee spaces (can you say even more wee?). That’s what you get when you recruit a Nurse Ethicist from back East with many degrees; she thinks that she should have locking doors and walls that aren’t made of that wiggly sliding partition material and an ergonomic space for her computer. Yes, so it’s perfectly reasonable. But SHE has another office on the College of Nursing Campus and I get to sit literally right smack dab in the middle of all the construction. LITERALLY.

First I had to empty most of the bookshelves and cabinets in the place and find a space to stow everything so it was out of the way. Turns out that the one space where I stuffed most everything was under and on top of the one section of my desk unit that they had to remove the day after I moved everything in the first place. Huzzah. Then there was the sweat lodge. They surrounded themselves with a big sheet of plastic and proceeded to cut a new door. This is rather noisy. Suffice it to say I now know that you can purchase a pair of earplugs in the outpatient audiology unit for $1.00.

The next day, the plastic was all for me. They pulled out the section of my desk unit. Shoved my desk as far back toward the wall as many burly men and a bunch of mechanical lifters could take it (so they say – I purposely avoided the festivities). Then the sheet of black plastic went from floor to ceiling in front of me so they could build a wall on the outside of it. So I sat most of the day sideways at my computer (the only way I’d fit – talk about a wee spot) with my earplugs and tried to work. I gave up on answering the phone. Not only was the deafening racket a little counterproductive, I have laryngitis AGAIN. The black stuff, being surprisingly thick and preventing any semblance of ventilation, caused quite the phenomenon. The temperature increased gradually until I decided that if ever I was to achieve sweat lodge spiritual enlightenment it would just have to happen RIGHT THEN. Nope. No enlightenment for me. Just asthma attacks (I, convenivently, have bronchitis, too).

Woah – wait – actually, come about 3:10 p.m. I achieved a state of spiritual clarity during which I KNEW I had to get the hell out of dodge (with no doors), get something to eat and purchase a new set of cheese plates. Pardon me, fromage plates. It was utterly transcendent.
My boss was out of town and I could have used his office (which has ventilation and a door), but I needed the big printer. Okay, truthfully, I’m too much of a RAM snob to work on anyone else’s computer. I have almost the newest computer in our little Division, and the Nice Computer Man Guru (Bill) always does nice things for me when I have problems with my stupid Dell machine.

If I haven’t mentioned it already, I’m an avid, raving, lunatic Apple fan and have been since 1984 when my family purchased its first lil’ Mac. I converted my husband (not easy – he’s VERY STUBBORN in case you’ve not noticed). I’d like to take credit for converting Guru of all Gurus, Grettir, but I think he finally just arrived in Apple Nirvana as the natural conclusion of his Super-Phat computer savvy. Yes, it’s Super-Phat.

Anyhoo, Bill recently thought that it was imperative that I doubled the RAM in my piece of crap Dell to a Gig (bless his heart). My computer was faster than everyone else’s before, but not it’s so much faster now that I’m too impatient to use another machine.

Today it was mostly just a horrendous racket; I only spent a portion of the day in the sweat lodge. No more cheese plates. Blah blah blah… I shall turn this into a poll. Is or is this not the veru LONGEST, whiniest and most boringestest entry I’ve ever, EVER posted????

Another day I will tell you about the mysterious “procedure” rooms that sometimes have “Laser Danger” signs on them and sometimes not. They are next door to our teensy suite. When my new furniture arrives I shall sit with my back right up against the “Laser Danger” wall. But that’s a story for another time.

Fin.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day! Drive some snakes away from somewhere!!!!!
I saw some green beer from a distance, but we were packed like sardines in the pub and with my propensity for spillage….

Undeniably, I fall and spill and damage myself and the objects around me quite regularly. But today I did something very special. Interestingly enough, it had nothing whatsoever to do with the pasta bar at lunch. I did get marinara on my white shirt (a noteworthy spot on the upper sleeve – I think that just has to be some sort of conspiracy) and some on one cuff – and this was before I ate a single bite.

The extraordinary event, in point of fact, had nothing to do with food or beverages or rough pavement or invisible people (I think) or anything of the sort. Today I inked a stamp on its felt pad and promptly dropped it stamp-side down onto my belly. It’s too blurry to read, but it says, “ANSWERED MARCH 15 2004.” You might wonder whether this episode really was out of character for me (given the questionable grace with which I conduct my day to day life). I have drawn on myself with ink pens (of various colors) on more than one occasion. I’ve written on myself with pencil, too. Nonetheless, I have never, in all the years I have used date stamps and stamps that say “DRAFT” and “COPY” and “FAXED 2/3/2001” and “COMPLETED NOVEMBER 2002” – rubber stamps that are self-inking or not – stamps that are red or blue or black, inadvertently stamped myself.

Make of it what you will. I just want to know what my stomach was asking me and by what means I satisfied its query.

I have to resist the temptation to talk about EVERY little fall and malady that I have. If I didn’t I should have to re-title my blog. I’d have to use something like “Le Monde de Kate Who Falls Down All the Time and Who Has Rather Gruesome Pustules and Other Repugnant Ailments All Too Often and Who is Obsessed by Her Life of Regrettable Mishaps.” It’s a little wordy. Besides, I am not a COMPLETE freak.

Anyhoo, I refrained from mentioning the notable day that I walked into Walmart (is that not notable in and of itself in a festive and trashy kind of way?) and promptly biffed it big time – flat onto the ground.

Something about it was just inherently more humiliating than had I fallen, say, in Nordstrom. I suppose this makes me a calamity snob. The fact that no one, not even the “Friendly” Walmart greeter, offered any sympathy or help to me at all, didn’t help my snooty attitude. I kid you not – it seemed that people would have just stepped over me and said, “Look away, Wanda June! That big ol’ lady felled down on the floor and cussed really bad!” They have such good customer service at Nordstrom that if I’d fallen there they’d have probably given me free jewelry or shoes just to make me feel better.

What I actually intended to recount today was the festive tumble I took this morning. Let me preface this by saying we rarely, if ever, use our actual “front” door. We use a door that’s almost in the front of the house (that is conveniently next to the garage). Today, as I left for work, I decided to go and get the leaflet that someone had left on our “front” door; it had been there for days. On the way up the path I tripped. I fell with a resounding splat on the pavement and the pine needles and the dead leaves and sticks and things. It was NOT my fault; there’s a notable unevenness in the pavement right there and I’ve not used the path for a long time because it has been covered in snow and blah blah blah – you get the picture. So I had a bruised, bloody, scraped up knee/leg. A clever person would have gone into the house right then and there and provided first aid to the wound. I decided I’d just drive to work and deal with it as I went.

I first tried to find a tissue. I like to live in a very tissue-rich environment, I should say, but I could find nary a clean tissue or napkin – nothing. I then pulled a Band-Aid out of my purse. Turns out it was the faux skin kind of Band-Aid that has no absorbency whatsoever. I didn’t want to walk into the hospital with blood running down my leg – that’s so passé. Luckily, I found some little facial oil-blotting papers in the deep recesses of my purse that I used to staunch the blood.

So here’s the moral of the story. There are two noteworthy revelations I had because of today’s smash up. (And you thought it was the same ol’ boring clumsiness saga.) Oh – THREE things.

First, if you use facial oil-blotting papers to soak up blood, they STICK quite securely to the wound. Second, I finally learned where to get free Band-Aids at the hospital (the same-day surgery waiting room right down the hall). Lastly, if you stick your knee in the restroom sink to thoroughly clean your injury, your sock will inadvertently get sopping wet (though you’ll be really grateful if you’re wearing a skirt – maybe this is why I have many skirts).

She not only kept her lovely figure,
she’s added so much to it.
– Bob Fosse

I’m out of the country.

Doesn’t that sound exotic? The truth of the matter is I’ve never, ever been anywhere that required a passport. We’re in Ottawa at the moment (a wonderful city – don’t get me wrong). You do go through customs, but they only need you birth certificate (to assure themselves that you are actually a human being who was BORN as opposed to a droid from the states that is there to take over all the Provinces, especially, Nunavut).

Some of the highlights of the trip have included skating on the World’s longest skating rink, being rescued by Spiderman on the World’s longest skating rink (a story for another time), seeing the amazing ice sculptures at Winterlude or “Bal de Neige,” eating poutine and Beaver tails (not at the same time), eating lovely food, having a delightful time with family and meeting lots of lovely people.

When I get home I’ll put some pictures up (at least one of Spiderman, eh?).