and it’s not even friday

i’m in the office… i WAS working on the schedule when i hear across the cubicle (or should i say… the dodecagonle)

“YES! YES PLAY THE BREAKUP SONG!!!”

i look over and they have some music going and rachael is holding up a fake microphone to evan and josh. 

both of them… eyes closed, mouthing the words, bobbing their heads (in sync might i add)… “IT’S TOO LATE TO APOLOGIZE….”

and of course everyone comes back to the dodecagonal to see the event

….

now it’s past the moment and we’ve moved on from singing… now they’re just “jamming” to it… everyone working on their respective projects with “… it’s too laaaaaaate….” just playing softly in the background.

should i just copy tom’s post?

 

yeah so as most of you who read tom’s blog know… he reads these ridiculous physics books for fun.  it’s quite intimidating, but he insisted that they weren’t that bad.  he got me to read an excerpt from “death by black hole” (not as enjoyable as death by chocolate, but still it wasn’t so bad)… and then convinced me to read “surely you’re joking mr. feynman”… a book written by homeboy that won the nobel prize in physics.  i have to admit… from a 10th grade reading level (that would be me)… it wasn’t that bad.  in fact, it’s quite the page turner.  it really truly was difficult to put down.

 

well i finished it this morning.  it was amazing.  i think the part of the book was an entire chapter dedicated to his confusion on which university of north carolina he was supposed to go to.  see below:

 

"...     I don't  know why, but I'm  always very  careless, when I go on a trip,
about the address or telephone number or anything of the people  who invited
me.  I figure  I'll be met, or  somebody  else will know  where we're going;
it'll get straightened out somehow.
     One time, in 1957, I  went to a gravity conference at the University of
North Carolina. I was  supposed  to be an  expert in a different  field  who
looks at gravity.
     I landed at the airport a day  late for the conference (I couldn't make
it the first day), and I  went out  to where  the taxis were. I  said to the
dispatcher, "I'd like to go to the University of North Carolina."
     "Which do you mean," he said, "the State  University of North  Carolina
at Raleigh, or the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill?"
     Needless to  say,  I hadn't  the slightest  idea. "Where  are  they?" I
asked, figuring that one must be near the other.
     "One's north of here, and  the other  is  south of here, about the same
distance."
     I had  nothing  with  me  that  showed which  one it was, and there was
nobody else going to the conference a day late like I was.
     That gave  me  an  idea. "Listen," I said to the dispatcher. "The  main
meeting began yesterday, so there  were a  whole lot  of guys going  to  the
meeting who must have come through  here yesterday. Let me describe  them to
you:  They  would have their heads  kind of in  the air,  and  they would be
talking to each other, not paying attention to where they were going, saying
things to each other, like 'G-mu-nu. G-mu-nu.' "
     His face lit up. "Ah, yes," he said. "You mean Chapel Hill!" He  called
the  next  taxi waiting in line.  "Take this man to the university at Chapel
Hill."
     "Thank you," I said, and I went to the conference. ..."

it continues…

 

for those of you that use planning center for Sunday morning… you will be happy to know today we created our next “location”… the main building!!!

 

airport again

this time i’m headed to arkansas with the shafer family.  so weird, but i’m really excited.  we’re thinking of ways to torture this guy:

daniel shafer… the bee eff’s  younger brother.  now i’m brainstorming some ideas of ways to make him uncomfortable.  he’s seeming to be numb to my efforts so far… right now i’m to excessive pda and lots of pet names.  i’ve had to add excessive winking and a little bit of arm squeezing for the dan man himself (calling him honey at least makes him pause and give me a strange look).

i would love any other pointers

new jersey!

onto the land of no sales tax!  we’re trying to get to bed early to get into the city early.  i’m supposed to get a hot dog for my boss to bring back to nc friday… and in his words…

“wrap it up real good.  that’s what she said.”

ahhh michael

 

and did i mention… it’s kirsten’s 22nd birthday.  i’m jealous i missed putt putt

update 5

aunt bert died this morning.  of course when i talk to anyone around here, it’s that she “passed,” as it is the polite way of saying it in the south.  they asked her this morning if she wanted more medicine to help make her feel better and she said no.  she knew she had to die to get to where she wanted to go.

just in case you were wondering, the last conversation people had with her were about 4 topics:
1). her late husband (uncle clyde)
2). her house in the mountains (and all the glories that go with it like mountain butter mmmmmm)
3). her garden behind her house (it’s actually quite awesome… three rows of blueberry bushes we pick each summer, and a path that walks through flowering bushes that are taller than you are), and finally
4). squash casserole

update 4

she said she didn’t want me to keep talking to her… hahaha

update 3

they cut up her oxygen to 80 percent.  i really want to go over and talk to her some more or just sit beside her, but again it’s after “visiting hours” so i try not to bother her unless she says something.

aunt bert’s looking at the ceiling when she’s not looking at me.  i want to get a poster of something to put up there, but i can’t think of anything that wouldn’t get old after a while.

this past hour we talked about coca cola.  not coke… but coca cola.  there’s apparently a difference enough that she’ll say the FULL name than the abbreviation.  it used to be 10 cents and come in a glass bottle and there was a bottle opener at the bottom of the machine.  the mask over her mouth hides any expression, but i’m pretty sure she was smiling.  her eyes grinned enough for the rest of her face.

update 2

tom and i were talking about this the other day.  you’ve gotta love the people you steal wireless internet from whose name is “linksys” and the password is “password.”  on that same note, you have to love that the doctor’s passcode to get into the ICU not during visiting hours is the top button, the next button, then the next button (which happen to be 1.3.5)  Very convenient.

also, aunt bert can’t understand me unless i’m talking in a southern accent.  she kept just nodding when i asked her questions and i was wondering if she was just trying to make me THINK she understood me.  so i asked her if she wanted me to stop talking to her and she finally said no.  it was quite pleasant knowing she liked my entertainment.

update 1

Most of you probably know that my great aunt is in the hospital.  The rest of my family is either at work or out of town so today’s my day to sit with her.  It sounds pretty depressing (and sometimes it is) but it’s kindof peaceful being just me and her.  I realize that reading a blog about someone’s 90 year old family member in ICU probably isn’t the most inspiring or entertaining way to spend the day, but I need some… vent time.  To unload onto my computer what’s happening.  Most of the updates I have to give are on oxygen levels and heart rates and pneumonia tests so this is something a little more… freeing for me.

It’s 11:27… ICU visiting hours ended 27 minutes ago but the nurse said I could stay anyways.  I’m wondering if I’m an exception to the rule or if it’s just for people that drive the nurses crazy and they need an excuse to get them out for a while.

As most of you probably know, I have a medicalish family.  Quite a few pharmacists, a few nurses, and a physical therapist.  So usually when I come to visit, there’s the original spanking of the staff (metaphorically speaking).  They politely say “we started her on medicine” or “she seems to be better” and before they can finish their first sentence, there’s a reply of “well she’s on x number of milligrams of this and she’s allergic to penicillin so make sure you’re not giving her this other medicine because it could cause a reaction with…” and “i see you increased her intake of oxygen to 65 percent even though she was in the 90s on 50 percent.  is it necessary?”  It’s actually quite entertaining to see the nurse or doctor frantically look through their notes to give more detailed explanations.

Of course I’m reaping those seeds because I am NOT a pharmacist or a nurse, but they’ve all been warned.  I get frequent updates on Aunt Bert from all of the staff about stuff I have no idea about.  I do as any normal human being would do.  Nod and look concerned… maybe ask a few memorized questions that I remember my aunt asking from yesterday.  ”Now what tests did she have this morning?  Has her white blood count gone up from 18?  Has the doctor tested her lungs for pneumonia again?  Have the results come back?”

In reality, I’m just here to talk to Aunt Bert.  She likes being in the know about things (and normally knows more than we do) so when I see her eyes open every 20 minutes, my job is to walk over and yell random things in her ear (she can’t hear very well).  She likes hearing about Tom… I think she knows that she has more information about his current activities than my parents and like I said… being in the know is very important.  I told her all about the concert for the Julie Project and how her late husband would have loved to know that Tom’s using his talents “for good.”

As for my update.  I feel God’s strength in me.  I know I have a lot of people praying for Aunt Bert, but I can feel someone praying for me, too.  I feel loved… and I can feel it pouring out of me to my aunt and to the nurses and back to God.  It’s probably the stillest I’ve felt in the presence of God in my entire life.