Kids say the funniest things...

My daughters and stepdaughters have found various ways to make me laugh over the years.  Sometimes it's on purpose and sometimes not.  Unfortunately for them, the "not" moments are usually the times my husband and I laugh the most.  Some people may say it's some sort of 'Parental Sin' to behave in this manner.  I prefer to think of it as "Sanity Maintenance" which is a HUGE chapter in "Parenting - 101".  Anyway, I have a ton of gems to share but will just start with one.  My hope is that they make others chuckle as well and, let's face it, help relieve a little of the guilt I feel about laughing 'at' my kids.

This particular instance took place when we had invited my Father and Brother over to dinner one evening.  Our house at the time had an open concept where the Dining Room and Living Room were two distinct sections of a large space.  My youngest daughter (who was perhaps seven or eight at the time) wasn't feeling well and, rather than have her infect everyone at the dinner table, I set her up with a comfy spot on the couch in the Living Room. That way, she could still participate in conversation and not feel as isolated as she would have in her bedroom.
In our home and family, there is no subject safe from dinner conversation.  We discuss health issues and bodily functions on a regular basis and in great detail.  It matters not if you are eating Spaghetti when we decide it's a good time to discuss the dog's roundworm issues.  Just as no subject is safe, no species is safe either.  On this particular evening, we were discussing the Praying Mantis we had seen in the back yard.  We talked about how rare it is to have a sighting and how they're a little creepy if you look at them up close.
To add to the conversation, I said something about their mating rituals being a bit extreme.  Somewhere I had heard that the female bites the head off of the male with whom she has just mated.  Now, I'm sure there are marriages out there where at least one member of the couple thinks they may have been better off as a Praying Mantis but I would like to state, very thankfully, that is not the case for my husband and me.  Moving on...
My youngest daughter had been participating in the conversation but upon hearing that little tidbit, she grew uncharacteristically quiet.  Now, I don't know if any of your kids are like this but when this child grows quiet, one of two things is happening.  One - she has fallen asleep or Two - she's processing.  I like to think that it's because I'm her Mom that I can actually feel it when she's considering a bit of information.  I love that feeling because I also know that a pointed and relevant question is forthcoming.  This is not something I outwardly acknowledge when it happens because the question may come then, or it may show up six months later but make no mistake, it comes without fail.
She hadn't been quiet for very long after discussing the Praying Mantis and it's mating habits when the question came......  "What if they're Lesbians?"
Now, I'm sure there are parents out there who would take the high road and just answer the question as best they could.  Maybe something along the lines of Lesbians being technically unable to reproduce.  Well, I'm not one of those parents and neither is my husband.  Don't get me wrong, we get back around to answering questions eventually but, in our home, humor comes first and I wouldn't change that for anything!
So what did we do?  We laughed.  We laughed loud and long.  My Dad had taken his glasses off, wheezing to catch his breath while he wiped the tears from his eyes.  My husband, quite literally, fell on the floor while I had to make a mad dash to the bathroom or I'd have peed my pants.
No doubt about it, dinner time at our house is scary territory if you don't have a good sense of humor!

Perhaps, tonight, I'll poll the family to see what their favorite funny moments have been and I'll be back with another story.  Here's hoping you enjoyed this one!

Medical Lessons Learned, Continued

Lesson Three - Modesty has no place in the Doctor's Office.

Doctors have plenty of tools at their disposal to determine the severity of a patient's condition.  Everything from X-Rays and Lab Tests right down to the thermometer and blood pressure cuff.  Well, I'm here to tell you that, for American women between the ages of 16 and 35, they have another gauge to use and I like to call it "Leg Hair Status".  It's easy.  Are the legs and armpits newly shaved?  If yes, the patient is not doing too badly.  If no, they should prepare for the worst.  One day's worth of growth falls somewhere in between the two.  And, yes, I'm speaking from experience.

It wasn't until two or three years ago, while dealing with a malady that required me to see the Doctor and climb in to the stirrups, that I learned a very important lesson.  Those stirrups are something else aren't they?  When not in use, they're tucked away, inside the exam table, with just the very ends visible to the patient.  It's as though they're mocking you, saying "Not this time, but don't ever forget that I'm here....maybe not tomorrow, maybe not for a year, but one of these times you will be required to use me....".  

When they ARE in the open and ready position, they speak volumes and are frightening in their mere presence.  The worst is that Doctor's offices feel it's important to humanize them by slipping a pair of cheerful, fuzzy socks over them.  To me, this makes them that much more frightening; like something out of a Stephen King novel.  

You may think I'm digressing once again but you would be wrong.  For it was here, in the world's most vulnerable position that my Doctor taught me a lesson that made me laugh out loud.

For reasons to do with my malady, I had not shaved my legs in ages and I had been dreading this moment more and more as the visit grew close.  So I'm lying there, alone in the exam room, staring up at the mobile hanging from the ceiling.  It's a mobile I have stared at more times than I can count but, to this day I can not tell you what kind of mobile it is.  That should tell you something about just how traumatizing this sequence of events can be to a woman.  

My Doctor entered the room, walked over near my head and patted me on the shoulder.  

"So, you're not doing too well, huh?"

"No" I answered as the tears started to stream down my face.  My Doctor has that gift.  The gift to make you feel understood.  The gift of sympathy or empathy.  The gift of validation.  Only, at this point, I wasn't crying because of what was going on physically, I was just mortified that I had hairy legs.  So, as she made her way back around the table to her tray of tools, I couldn't stay quiet any more.  "I haven't shaved my legs in ages" I blurted out.  "I'm sorry but my legs are really hairy".  

It was here that my Doctor made every single copay I'd ever paid, and every single blood draw and lab test worthwhile.  With her next words, I understood why Doctors, good Doctors, get paid so damned much money.  She looked at me, smiled kindly and said "Oh, don't worry.  It's not like this is a date".  I burst out laughing, tears still streaming and got through the appointment in tact.  

Since that day, for the most part, I've stopped worrying about what I look like when I go to the Doctor.  Honestly, short of offending them with an odor, I'm sure Doctors could care less and have seen much worse.  There is a time and place for modesty, and it is not at the Doctor's office.  That's the place you should focus on higher priorities.....such as inventing another solution to replace those stirrups and their fuzzy socks.    

Medical Lessons Learned.....

Given the fact that, over the past five years, I'm averaging 1.3 Surgeries per year, you had to know I'd make my way back around to that subject sooner or later.  What I have decided to do is provide some of the medical lessons I've learned throughout my life.  At the very least, I hope you find them amusing.  After all, laughter is the best medicine....unless you've got a broken rib or something like that.  In those cases, laughter just sucks.

Now, I will put a disclaimer in right here and now.  I am NOT a Doctor, Nurse, Medical Assistant, Lab or X-Ray Technician or any other medical professional.  These "Lessons" come from my own experiences as a patient and nothing more.  Take or leave them for what they're worth!

Lesson One - If you think something is horribly wrong, chances are you are probably perfectly fine.

During my lifetime, I have watched five close relatives die from one form of Cancer or another. You might say my cards are marked.  This has provided me with a general sense of dread whenever I have a Doctor Appointment.  Once, I went to the ER because I had been having some pretty severe stomach pain for a week or so and, given my family history, was convinced it was the big C.  I was ready for the worst when, after a set of X-Rays, the Doctor came back in and informed me that I was full of.....well....poop.  Said he'd never seen someone so jam packed with it.  He asked some general questions and determined I just needed a LOT of water and and a healthy dose (or ten) of Miralax.  As I thought back on the previous week, I supposed I should have guessed the diagnosis for a number of reasons not the least of which was an obvious lack of reason number two...

Lesson Two -  If your Doctor or Nurse is having a bad day, and as they are human it happens, you should turn heel and run as fast as you can. 

Two weeks after my first surgery to remove a Kidney Stone, I returned to the Urologist to have a Stent removed.  I should have known something was up when I got called in from the waiting room by Nurse Cratchett but I was inexperienced so I followed her and her specimen cup back in to the office where she stood by the bathroom and said "I suppose you know what to do with this?".  Thinking she was making a joke, I chuckled and made some smart aleck comment back.  Not only did she not crack a smile or acknowledge I'd said anything, she just opened the bathroom door and held the cup out. Yup, I should have known right then and there that I did not want this person going anywhere near the Stent currently residing in my Ureter.  Ahhh, to be so naive and carefree.  I miss those days....
Okay, so I'd done what was needed in the bathroom and moved in to the actual office.  Nurse Cratchett came in and, waving a folded up sheet in the general direction of an exam table, said "Remove everything from the waist down, have a seat there, cover up with this and I'll be right back in".
"Ummm.....okay then" I said to the closed door "I'll just wait here."  Where the hell was Jack Nicholson when I needed him?
What felt like a week later, she came back in to the room with a stainless steel tray draped with paper and she was wearing rubber gloves.  Two things occurred to me here.  First, it's never a good sign when they don't let you actually see what's on that tray and, Second, I will go to the grave swearing that she now had a gleam in her eye and was wearing something that closely resembled a smile.
"Is this going to hurt?" I asked nervously.  "Oh no," she said "It'll be a little uncomfortable but that's it".  Oh boy...
The procedure itself was over in about eight seconds flat but in those eight seconds, not only did I see my life flash before my eyes but I saw it with such clarity that I could tell you what my Kindergarten teacher wore on MY first day of school.  I screamed, said a very bad word and immediately began to sob.  As she snapped off her rubber gloves, Cratchett said something to the effect of  'It's all over now, you'll be fine' as I curled in to the fetal position and sobbed "A LITTLE UNCOMFORTABLE?!?!?!?!"
Two or three days later, I was still having horrible pain and knew I had a fever so I went back to the Urologist office where I sat in the waiting room for TWO HOURS while my Doctor was in surgery.  My favorite nurse there (Cratchett was nowhere to be seen at this point, thank God), came out to the waiting room to tell me that the Doctor would be delayed a little longer but, after taking one look at me, she rushed me in back, gave me warm towels, took my vitals and left the room.  She reappeared minutes later with a wheelchair and my Doctor who informed me they would be checking me in to the hospital then and there.  As it turned out, I had a very scary infection accompanied by an equally scary fever.  There are only two things I recall from that moment to the  moment I woke up after surgery.  One - as we were leaving the office, I looked up from the wheelchair to see Nurse Cratchett looking down at me in horror.  "I'm so sorry" she said.  While I have no idea if I actually responded, I'm sure you can imagine what I would like to have said.  Two - I remember there was construction going on at the hospital at the time and it took the Doctor and my fav Nurse to wheel me through the manufactured, outdoor walkway maze that wound from their office to the Emergency Room.
So, with probably more detail than you needed to know, I learned that oh-so-important lesson number two:  If your Doctor or Nurse is having a bad day, and as they are human it does happen, you should turn heel and run as fast as you can.

Hopefully, you've enjoyed this little foray in to the fun and excitement of my life. Next time, perhaps we'll discuss Lessons three and four...

The lines are becoming a bit blurred.....

There are areas of all of our lives where lines which, while once very distinct, have blurred, faded or perhaps even shifted a bit.  Since I can't think of a part of my life in which this has not happened, I'll share a few just to see if the resonate with anyone else.

There are the obvious lines such as Health.  While I have worn glasses since I was about eight years old, I never had a problem seeing to read.  At 25 or even 35, the words in books and newspapers were clear and crisp and I enjoyed not having to wear my glasses for such a wonderful and important part of my life.  Let's click Fast Forward 10 years and see where we land....

Now I have two choices when it comes to reading:  One, remove my glasses and hold the book, or iPad in some cases, right up to my face so that I can see the words clearly.  Two, I can leave my glasses on but hold my iPad at an arm's length and hope I get most of what I'm reading right.

The worst of it, to me, is reading a label for ingredients.  My husband has an allergy to a certain type of preservative which is used commonly in a variety of foods.  Since, until very recently, I did all of the grocery shopping and cooking, it was, and is, important that I be able to check an ingredient label prior to purchasing or cooking certain items.  For the better part of 20 years, Grocery shopping was one of the household duties I took great pride in and I had it down to a science.  One of the keys to that science is NOT bringing anyone with me when I shop, but that's another story.  Anyway, I could make it from my door, to the Grocery store, complete the shopping and pull back in the driveway in an hour and a half.  Now, given the extra steps needed to actually read a label, it takes much more time.  Horrifyingly enough, I have turned in to one of those people who stops every few feet, product in hand, glasses slid to the end of my nose, completely oblivious to the world around me while I read labels.  It doesn't sound that bad but when you realize that world just happens to include a backup of about seven shopping carts in whatever aisle you've taken up residence, it starts to  make you wonder if you've crossed some sort of line in life.

Being a "Cool" Mom.  Those lines are getting blurrier by the second.  I have a daughter in college and one in Junior High who I, of course, stalk on Facebook.  Sometimes I even write a message or respond to one of the posts between each girl and her friends. I even do that to my Stepdaughters, poor things, and they're both in High School.
At the time I'm doing it, I think it's a small way for me to remain close with my daughter(s) as she makes her way to adulthood.  Once I'm done and hit "Enter", it takes a few seconds but I almost feel embarrassed.  How can I explain - remember what it was like to "drunk dial" someone?  Don't say you haven't, we all have.....haven't we?  Anyway, while it seems like a perfectly good idea at the time (in fact at times it's the best idea you ever had), when you wake up the next morning, reality kicks in.....right between the eyes where that headache is pounding what feels like drums of war.  Oh, you may have a few seconds of blissful ignorance as you attempt to run your tongue over your teeth where it simply adheres because all saliva has been rerouted to the "Vomit Waiting Area".  Once those few seconds pass, you remember what you've done and determine it was not a nightmare, there is regret.  That's kind of like the regret I feel after one of those Facebook posts.  The kids are very nice and are happy to have the odd comment exchange here and there but that's where the line gets blurry.  It's starting to become difficult to see the line between 'My Mom is so great' and 'How do you restrict someone from your Facebook account?'

There are also less obvious lines that begin to blur in your forties such as clothing.  At 45, which department do I shop in for clothes that don't make me A) look like my Grandmother or B) look like a mid-life crisis and car crash hybrid?  When I was 35, I could still shop in the "Misses" departments and be comfortable in what I was wearing.  I didn't feel like I had to head over to "Womens" to pick something up that would make me look like an Alfred Dunner model.  There were limitations, of course but I consoled myself that, even at age 20, I wouldn't have paid for or worn a shirt that had literally been cut to shreds.   Seriously, what is the point of those shirts?  If you buy one, you just have to buy another to wear under the one that is missing half of it's original fabric.  What does it all mean?
Also, I do a lot of shopping online where clothing sizes vary from company to company.  I try to use the size charts but about five years ago I stopped looking at the waist as a point of measure.  If I can get hips and chest right, I'm in pretty good shape.  Gone are the days when my waist was significantly smaller than my hips.  The days where my top half was a size 10 and my bottom half a size 4 or 6.  Those were the good old days - back when I was one of those obnoxious people who took two bathing suits to try on in stores.  I would bring two bikinis in to the dressing room where I would methodically mix and match the size 10 top to the size 4 bottom.  I used to feel bad about it for a minute or two but now I look back on those days with a strange envy.  It's one of those 'I wish I knew then what I know now'  moments.  I mean, those numbers look pretty impressive to me now but maybe I'm just not seeing them clearly......does that line look blurry to you?

Jackson, Mississippi - Who'd Have Thunk It - Part 2....

The end of March and/or beginning of April are a fantastic time to be in Mississippi as far as the weather is concerned. It's not too hot or muggy, flowers are blooming, days are longer, etc., etc.. The perfect time to plan a visit from up North where things are still cold and there's probably even snow still on the ground.

What with settling in to the hotel and the travel debacle of the day before, I was too wound up to sleep and am guessing I got about an hour or so of shut-eye. Anyone who knows me understands that this is NOT a good thing. I wouldn't say that I'm purposefully mean or crabby but there's a sort of 'aura' around me. How can I describe it......hmmm....Okay, I've got it.  Are you familiar with the movie "Jaws" starring Richard Dreyfus? Do you recall hearing the music as the shark would approach its next victim?  Do you remember how that music made you feel? That's my aura when I'm operating on little or no sleep. So, not only did I have the 'first day jitters' but I had my psycho tired brain to deal with as well...this just didn't bode well for anyone.

My savior (who is one of the nicest people on the planet, by the way) and I walked out to her rental car, which I can still remember. It was a gold Ford Taurus sedan and it was brand spanking new. The odometer read "8" and it was just oozing that new car smell. It's funny the things you remember...

Anyway, we arrived at the office where she brought me to the appropriate folks and headed off to do her own thing. The amount of information thrown at me that morning was staggering and, what with my aura, I knew enough to take copious notes and was doing just fine. The trouble started when I had to use the ladies room (If I had a dime for every time I've said THAT....). Oh, it probably sounds harmless enough just laid out like that but, somehow, I found a way to be traumatized....

Perhaps I've led a sheltered life or perhaps, until that moment, I'd just been lucky but, until then, I had never heard someone have a cell phone conversation while using the facilities.

It started off much the same way as any office bathroom visit. I walked in, chose a stall, checked for TP availability as well as the cleanliness and stability of the seat. Next I locked the door, perched precariously and went about my business. It is worth noting here that men are fascinated by the "perch" or "hover" as some refer to it. Aside from ensuring that you grab the appropriate amount of TP PRIOR to perching, there's really nothing to it. Since, however, men can't seem fathom how women do it, it's one of the few things, aside from giving birth to a child, that make me feel superior.

Okay, so back to Jackson; I was in the ladies room and, not only was there a woman in the next stall (which is nerve wracking enough - really, I'm not a shoe cobbler. I don't want to be able to count the stitches on someone else's shoe or, given the venue, see something far worse), but seconds after I perched, she started talking in a normal, conversational manner:

Adjacent Stall Occupant (ASO): "Hey, how you doin'?".........

Now, at this point, I'm thinking that I should have paid attention to all of the talk about how warm and welcoming Southern folks can be. While it's uncomfortable for me, being a New Englander, I start to respond and it takes a few more questions before I realize that she is on the phone....in the bathroom.

Don't get me wrong, I have friends and have had many phone conversations with these friends.  While out at a restaurant or bar, I've even gone to the ladies room at the same time as them.  There is only one friend, however, who I will 'take to the bathroom' with me while we talk on the phone.  I always warn her before I head in...

"Hey, just so you know, you're coming to the bathroom with me".  Of course, I'll still mute the phone if I have enough warning that an unmistakable noise is about to happen.  Seriously, what happens in the bathroom should stay in the bathroom.  This business of cell phone conversations while in the bathroom made absolutely no sense to me but hey, I was in Mississippi, maybe it was just part of the culture there.  For the record, there has only been one time since then where I observed that same behavior and it was in New Jersey so I'm not sure if it counts.

Just before noon, my savior appeared and asked if I was hungry and did I like Bar-B-Q.  As the answer to both questions was 'Yes', we drove out to a little hole-in-the-wall place that came highly recommended by some of the local folks from the office.  'Good Southern food' they'd said.  It was located on a gravel road that sloped down on either side forming two identical ditches.  What was serving as a parking lot looked more like someone had just widened the road on both sides to indicate that cars could park there if they felt like stopping just then.  There were two faded picnic tables in one corner of the parking lot, under the shade of a tree.

We went inside and ordered lunch, just listed as "BBQ" on the chalkboard, and brought it back out to the picnic tables.   Once I sat down, I examined the contents of my Chinet plate.  There was definitely BBQ pork on a roll as well as some Cole Slaw and a pickle but there was also a little puddle of something white-ish.  The puddle had a pat of butter on top.  Trying not to make myself look any more out of place, rather than ask, I opted to wait and see what my savior did with her puddle.  She caught me looking, smiled and said something like 'Haven't you ever seen Grits?'  Since she was also from north of the Mason Dixon lined, I wondered if this was some sort of trick question.  "Well, yeah, but not in person".  She chuckled, salt and peppered hers and said "They're good when they're cooked right.  Sort of like Cream of Wheat".  CREAM OF WHEAT???  But that's a breakfast food.  Oh God, first the cell phone in the bathroom and now Cream of Wheat for lunch?  'What's next?' I wondered.  Well, you know the saying "Be careful what you ask"?

As it turned out, those Grits must have been cooked right because I truly enjoyed them along with the rest of the food.  We chit chatted, trying to get to know each other since we'd be working together quite a bit.  It was just a lovely lunch and I was in a much improved mood as we got back in to the rental car to head for the office. We were still chatting when my savior put the car in reverse and started to back up.....and up....and up. Right out of the parking lot and part way in to the roadside ditch. It wasn't a long way down, nor was it even remotely dangerous and neither of us was hurt. The problem, it seemed, was that she had backed that brand new Taurus over a sort of big bump on the embankment where the frame of the car now rested. Both the front and back tires were in the air.  Just barely in the air but that was enough.  We got out of the car to take a look and I just started to laugh. Ya know, when you're tired and giddy and something just strikes you so funny that you can't stop laughing? Yeah, that was me along with everyone else who it seemed, until that moment, was in the restaurant. Whether they watched it happen or heard it, they all came out to look. Even the Cook came out to take a gander.

Well, there was absolutely nothing we could do on our own and as I started to look around for someone who might be able to help, there was a truck I hadn't noticed before. A truck with the Union Jack flying from it and a gun rack in it. At the same time I was noticing this, a man started to make his way from the crowd gathered in the parking lot over to said truck. A man wearing overalls and a baseball cap. It wasn't exactly how I'd envisioned it but it was close enough to make a cold shiver run down my spine. 'Think of the lady in the bathroom' I thought. 'Southerners are a warm and friendly people.....Oh God, does anyone else hear those banjos?'  This thought process seemed to go on forever but it couldn't have been more than 15 or 20 seconds when I snapped out of it. The man started up the truck and maneuvered it over to the embankment where he tied one end of a rope to the back end of the truck and the other to the front of the Taurus. He climbed back in, put it in drive and tried to pull the car out but it was no good. Each time he'd try to move forward, the back tires of the truck would just spin. Even I could see it needed more weight in the back; so the cook and a couple of other guys hopped in the truck bed to weigh it down and that still wasn't enough.

You will likely find this as hard to believe as I did when it happened but I swear to God that this is true.

They asked me to jump in to the truck bed to help weigh it down. In heels.  Wearing a brand new suit I bought special for my first day with the new company.  Aside from the logistics, there were so many reasons that this terrified me, a woman in her 30's, not the least of which was that the damned plan worked. No, prior to that, several thoughts crossed my mind.  Thoughts like 'Are they just going to get me in the back of the truck and take off?' and 'Would my savior follow in hot pursuit or would she just wash her hands of me and think that I deserved it for waking her up at 2:30 that morning?  and finally, 'Why did I leave my cell phone in my purse.....which is in the Taurus?'

Maybe, if I took my phone with me everywhere I go (like that ASO from the bathroom), I'd have it on me and could actually dial 911 but, even if I did, what would I tell them?
'Hi, I'm being kidnapped by a man wearing overalls and a baseball cap and I'm in the back of a dark blue pickup truck' to which the Operator would giggle and reply:
'Do you know the make of the truck?'
     'Well, no'
'Do you know the license plate number?'
     'Not without climbing out of the moving truck to look'
'Can you tell me anything about the truck?'
     'Yes. It's flying the Union Jack.' Upon hearing this, the Operator would likely pause, there'd be more giggling, and she'd say something like 'You talk kinda funny, you're not from around here, are you...?' and that would be the end of me.

Well, the 911 call never happened because, as mentioned previously, I apparently weighed enough to make the difference and the truck stopped immediately after successfully hauling the 8-mile-old Taurus out of the ditch. I climbed down out of the truck in my heels, dusting my suit off as I made my way back to the car.  When I looked up toward the car, I saw my savior in the driver's seat with her head resting on the steering wheel. 'Oh God' I thought, 'She's really shaken up by all of this and must feel terrible about it happening on my very first day with the company'. I got in and looked over, prepared to console her and that's when I noticed that she was not distraught, nor was she crying or feeling bad at all. She was laughing.  Laughing so hard, she wasn't making any noise at all.  When she looked back at me, the tears were streaming down her face and she simply could not stop laughing.  Well, I'm sure you know that laughter is a wonderfully contagious condition so the two of us spent the return trip to the office laughing, saying how we couldn't wait to share the story and that it had to rank right up there as one of the weirdest 'First Day with the Company' stories ever.

Jackson, Mississippi - Who'd Have Thunk It.....

Once upon a time, there was a woman who was starting a new job at a new company (Guess who?). I had just left a secure position (of five years) with a small, local company, that provided moderate pay and great benefits. While the new position and company provided an extremely healthy increase in pay, moderate benefits and a management position, it all hinged on a project that had been bid, but not yet won by the new, much larger Company. Nobody can ever say I didn't take the occasional risk.

If you have ever worked for a large company, you know that their rolls of 'Red Tape' are so big that they are stored in Warehouses. Once 'hired', actually getting in the door requires countless phone calls with faceless representatives of various facets of the company. There's Security for a background check, Technology to get the appropriate equipment up and running for your first day, Payroll, Benefits and, of course your friendly HR Rep. I'm sure there are others I have left out and hope they will accept my heartfelt apology in advance.

Where was I? Ah yes, the phone calls. On one of these calls, I learned that my very first day with this company would take place in Jackson, Mississippi at an office similar to the project I was bid on. I was speechless.....after all, I was born and raised in New England. The only trip 'South' I'd ever taken outside of Disneyworld was to Louisiana once...in July. Hotter than a snake's ass in a wagon rut and so humid I don't think my sweat ever knew if it was on the inside or outside of my body. Anyway, it's just as well I was speechless because I was referred to "Travel" where I would work with someone to make my flight and hotel reservations.

Before speaking with "Travel", I decided to go to the map.....O...M...G.....Jackson Mississippi is EIGHT. BILLION. MILES. AWAY. Aren't there a lot of swamps there? People who wear nothing but overalls and straw hats? Don't they have Red Clay Roads? Banjo music? People who fly the Union Jack from their truck antenna and hate Northerners? Of course, it wasn't reasonable for me to worry about any of these things. Yeah, "reasonable" had suddenly been in touch with "Travel" and booked a flight to Moscow.

Fast forward a bit to my big trip to Jackson. Initially, I was slated to arrive around 6:00 pm but, of course, my second flight got delayed. Alot. I landed somewhere between 11 pm and midnight to find there was a problem with my rental car. A problem as in, I couldn't get one because of a mix up with "Travel". It was about this time I was convinced a single look from me could sear holes in objects and people so I decided to head to the ladies room, splash some cold water on my face and regroup. HOLY CRAP! They have "Sharps" containers in the bathrooms!!! Even in the "Family Station" (yes, I checked). Let's do an inventory, shall we? I am a smallish woman, alone, no weaponry aside from my eyes and a rolling carry on suitcase in Jackson Mississippi at midnight. I can't get a rental car and have only one person's name from the office where I will be heading in about 7 hours.

GREAT! There are probably drug addicts lurking around, (carrying around babies in need of a diaper change) who are just looking for someone like me. Okay, Pam. Calm down. Deep breaths....breathe iiiiinnnnn pink.........and out bluuuuuue...... Alright, find a phone, call the hotel and ask for this one person whose name you have.

Pam: Hi, could I please speak to Jane Doe (see how I'm protecting her identity?)
Hotel Chick: What room number is she at?
Pam: Oh, I don't know.
Hotel Chick: Ah'm sorry Ma'am but Ah cain't connect you if you don't have her room number.

(Insert here, the noise of something snapping)

Pam: Alright. I have been in and out of airports all day. Tomorrow, I mean today, is my first day with a new company; my flights were delayed; they didn't have a rental car for me; I don't know a soul and, for God sake, I'm from New Hampshire. I. Need. To. Talk. To. Jane. Doe. Now...................Please.
Hotel Chick: Well, Ah'll trah her room and ask if it's okay to put you through.
Pam(through gritted teeth): That would be lovely. Thank you.

As you can imagine, Jane Doe accepted the call, ordered a taxi and I arrived at the hotel around 2:30 am. Now I had, roughly, 4 1/2 hours to get settled in, sleep, shower and get ready, have breakfast, and get to work. As I fell on the bed, I recall having clear visions of "Reasonable" with a furry hat and bad teeth, laughing it's ass off in a Russian accent while drinking really expensive vodka that was being charged to my hotel room.

To Be Continued with "My First Day, what else can go wrong".........