Life Size

I hate having my picture taken. Some people say that, but I really mean it. I am not photogenic and I hate fake smiles.

Finley Hospital's graphic designer sent out an email to all the Administrative Assistants and said she wanted to take our photo for National Administrative Day. But the time she wanted to take the photo, I was unavailable, so I declined.

Several days later, my co-worker, another AA, said I should contact the graphic designer and she could photoshop me into the photo.

I thought, "Ok, that would work. Except I hate having my photo taken."

But my co-worker was very persistent and said the photo would only be on a bulletin board at the hospital for one day and that I should be proud to be an AA at Finley.

She talked me into it. I contacted the graphic designer who was thrilled I was going to be in the photo. The graphic designer teased me saying "You and Pam are the only ones that weren't in the photo!"

Immediately I contacted Pam and said "You HAVE to be in this photo with me!! If I can do it, you can do it. It's only up for one day!"

I should mention that Pam is young and gorgeous.

Pam reluctantly said "ok."

Quickly I primped. I was still sporting my Mexican tan. My hair was just ok. I ratted it up a tad and adjusted my shirt so my bra strap wouldn't show. I pinched my cheeks for that 3:00pm color. This was as good as it would get. "Mr. DeMille, I am ready for my close up!"

We contacted the graphic designer and snap snap had our pictures taken together. The graphic designer said this was the third year Finley recognized the AAs this way and this was the first year ALL the AAs said they would be in the photo!! The graphic designer said the photo would be on display the WEEK of 4-22. Week? Did she say WEEK? Pam growled.

The graphic designer then told us she would contact us to tell us exactly where the photo would be posted.

Pam and I laughed and said we would come with black permanent markers and black out our faces. We had a good chuckle over that.

Yesterday I receive an email from the graphic designer with the photo proof and said, "Hi Ladies. Here is the proof of what the photo will look like on the billboard."

Say that again??? Billboard? NO NO NO. That was NOT in our original conversation. I emailed her back and said "What happened to bulletin board!!!"

She responded, "Oh, it will be on the bulletin board at the hospital, TOO!"

As soon as that email went out to all of us AA's from the graphic designer, Pam emailed me and said, "WE ARE GOING TO BE ON A BILLBOARD?" Apparently, Pam was not happy.

But I took a good look at the photo. There are 8 of us AAs at Finley. All ages and sizes. I am RIGHT in the center of the photo. Right next to Pam. In the middle of the photo. But it's not terribly disgusting. My eyes are open and I am smiling. Actually I am laughing. Pam is looking pretty good as well! Ok, this is do-able.

I email the graphic designer back and say, "Ok, I'm in. Where is this billboard?"

At the busiest intersection in Dubuque! Not in some remote location that only 10 cars would see. I will be life size on a billboard for a week for all of Dubuque to see. Me and 7 of my closest AA friends. And it's a digital billboard as well!!! Of course it is......

Next year Pam and I decided that we will be wearing sunglasses and large hats for our photo shoot. I also plan to wear sunglasses and a large hat around town the week the billboard is up.

Spread eagle

Today I fell. Hard. On my face. In front of the world.

I love dressing up for work. And now that the weather is getting nicer, it's skirt time. And heels. I love to hear the clip clip of a high heel on a tile floor. Reminds me of my youth when it was fashionable to dress up just to ride the bus to downtown Minneapolis and have lunch at Dayton's. My mother always wore high heels on the bus.

I was just casually walking to the administrative offices at the hospital. Not in a big hurry. Just minding my own business, clip cliping down the tile floor.

The hospital polishes the tile floor daily. Numerous times. I know because I have seen it. Big BIG polisher machine thingy that takes a man to drive. Like an ice zamboni.

And let me tell you, that polisher works. I have had to catch myself many times due to the slippery floor. In the winter, jeez, it's REALLY bad. With the snow and the slippery floors, it is not the time to wanna be in a hurry to get somewhere.

But it's spring and I was just walking to my desk.

OH!! I see someone just stepping out of a woman's bathroom on the main floor of the hospital. It was a windy day today and I thought I should check out my do before sitting down at my desk for the day.

I reached for the door handle. That's the last I remember until my face hit the floor. Literally. Hit the hard cold tile floor.

Because I was reaching forward for the handle and my weight leaning out, the slippery floor made my feet slip from under myself and I fell forward.

Forget the hair do. Forget the professional attire. Forget the clip clip of the high heels. I was on the floor. Face down and spread eagle. NOT a Kodak moment.

I remember thinking I am going to hit the floor. And sure enough, I hit the floor. Hard. I remember my nose hitting the tile floor. Knocked my glasses off my face.

I lay there stunned. What the hell happened!! All I wanted to do was to check out my hair!!

The lady that came out of the bathroom in front of me, ran back to me. Must have heard my graceful fall.

"Are you ok?"

"ummmm, not sure!" I am still laying on the floor.

She helps me sit up. My glasses are crooked on my face. I know that because I can only see out of one lens. The other lens must be up by my eyebrow.

I rub my nose to see if it's broken. No, can still feel the bridge. Then I felt my right cheek bone and it hurts!

Oh this is just great. I fall in a hospital!! MY hospital. The place I work. The place that JUST announced that they were going to start monitoring falls to see how they can improve that situation. Swell.

The nice lady asks if she can help me up. HELL NO. I'm not an invalid!! Back away. Don't draw a crowd!

I stand up and truthfully, I'm a little dizzy! Must be how I'm looking at the world with 1/2 a set of glasses.

The lady says,"Let's get you checked out."

ARE YOU NUTS!!?? No way am I going to see a doctor and tell him that I fell... in the hospital... on my way to WORK!! And that I work for the COO who is heading up the fall monitoring. NO WAY. I will literally crawl out the front door of the hospital on all fours and hobble back in my car and drive home and then call 911 and say I fell at home. There's absolutely no condition that I want to see a doctor today.

"No, really, I'm fine. Just a little slip."

I turn around and see skid marks. SKID marks from my black high heels. The skid was at least 2 feet long. I could see another skid mark next to it as my other foot must have skid trying to put on the brakes.

If I wasn't hurting so much, I would have laughed.

And this was one day, the only day, where I was wearing my hospital badge which shows my name and what department I work in.

PLEASE let this nice lady not read my hospital badge. PLEASE do not let this nice lady call my office to tell my boss, the COO about my fall. PLEASE let there be a God.

I convinced the nice lady that I was ok and she went on her way. I quickly jumped in an elevator just to get out of the scene of the crime.

I took off my screwed up glasses, which by the way, were smudged from the floor, and tried to readjust them so I didn't look like a dork.

Got off the elevator and went to my desk. "Good morning!" Yeah, sure, great morning. Don't come near me. I hurt.

To make things worse, there was dirt on my new white shirt. I ran into the office bathroom and tried to wash the dirt off. Only it smeared the dirt and now I have a big wet spot on my shirt. Lovely.

Smeared wet white shirt, lopsided glasses, bruised cheek and my windy hair do.
Couldn't be better.

And it was only 7:59 am. What a way to start a morning. Next week I will be wearing cleats!

Flash

It was there for a fleeting moment. And then BAM, it went away. As quick as it appeared. Gone.

Life is funny sometimes, and life is unpredictable as well. Right when you think you have life figured out, it throws you a curve.

I'm not good with curves. My being wasn't made for emotional turmoil. When other people I love hurt, I hurt even more for them. I envy the people that can turn away without a care. What do they possess in their genes that I don't have?

It was so close. I almost had a daughter move within reach. I could feel her, I could see her, heck I could almost taste her.

My emotions took control and I let my defenses down and actually imagined what it would be like to have family here. In the same area. In the same vicinity. In the same city. Could it be? Would it really happen?

So close. But not to be. Not now. Maybe later.

My heart sunk. I did it to myself. Hoped for something that wasn't to be. I was planning MY life. Forgot to take into account, other lives were involved.

Time to switch gears. Put the focus back on where it should be. Her life. Her wishes. Her future. Her choices.

I am so proud of her man. He set out to better himself in a difficult economy. Stuck to his goal through tough times. Knew within himself that there was something bigger and better for him. And he applied. And he applied. And then he applied again. All the highs and all the lows of the job hunt. Then the pay off. Not only did he receive an offer, but a position was created just for him. But not in Dubuque. How proud he should be of his perseverence. It is his time to shine.

So their lives are changed. For the better. When one is happy with one's life, the world itself is such a happier place.

I am happy too now. All I ever wanted was for my children to have a good life and be happy in their own world.

Life is funny sometimes.

Spring?

I woke up this morning and saw white. The two robins in my yard are very confused. I'm glad I didn't take off my snow tires yet. Apparently Mr. Winter is putting up a good fight to say byebye.

But today was my day to start spring cleaning. I should invite family over TODAY, RIGHT NOW as my kitchen is sparkling. My closest family member is in Chicago so I must bask in the glory of my bright white kitchen solo. I'm embarrassed to say that it has been a long time since I scrubbed the cabinets, polished the stainless steel and cleaned the microwave. And the best thing about cleaning (especially with bleach) is my fingernails are clean too! It's a double whammy. Everytime the urge hits me and I do deep cleaning I think that I will clean daily/weekly after that and the chore won't be so overwhelming. But alas, the couch and tv win out and I put that urge on the back burner (no pun).

I've been working on my kitchen for 3 hours now. And I admired for 5 minutes.

I'm exhausted.

I gave up "productivity" for lent. Is it a sin if you break the lent giving upper?

That's enough for today! Tomorrow I will tackle another room. Unless I get the back burner urge again. I have no willpower.

Now I must find the gloves and scarfs I foolishly put away to cuss at the snow I have to step over to get to the car to scoop off the snow to get in the freezing car to start the cold engine to drive to a crowded store to shop wearing a bulky winter coat to find spring bargains to put in the closet until spring comes. The is the day that Joly built....

Assume the position!

So my husband and I decided to get out of town and we're leaving Friday for Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. Bring on the margaritas baby!!

My husband turns red as a lobster in the sun within the first 20 seconds of a hot blazing sun. Which means I have to spend the rest of the vacation rubbing in blue ICEY on his back and chest. But this year, he has decided to tan before the trip by the use of a tanning bed.

There was a 2 for 1 sale at the local tanning bed salon. My caring hubby signed me up for tanning too. Personally, being the dark skinned German that I am, I usually tan pretty quickly without any sunburn. But since I have free minutes at a tanning salon, why not give it a try?

My husband also bought BRONZE tanning oil. Supposedly it is to quicken the tanning process and make you look like a bronzed goddess. Sounds good to me.

I went to the salon for my first session. I say my last name and the clerk says, "Are you Jolene?" Ok, sure. Jolene works. Apparently my husband slurred when he said my name when he signed us up.

The clerk says, "I'll put you in bed #3. Here is your bronzing cream."

I am pysched. I want to be a golden tan goddess. The clerk asks me how long I'd like to tan. My husband warned me to start S L O W. I say "6 minutes please."

I jog up the stairs to the "bed lounge." I see door #3. That's me!!

I quickly strip down to my birthday suit and then start looking for my red tanning eye glasses that are necessary for tanning. On the wall you see all the horrible diseases you can get if you don't wear protection glasses and also all the warnings of overexposure to tanning lights. Gotta find those glasses!! Got the glasses on, slick back my hair and goo myself with the tanning lotion.

There is a full length mirror in the tanning room. I stand before it looking at myself in my altogether complete with red eye glasses. I look like a naked swimmer at the Olympics. I suck in my gutt and look at myself sideways. Yup, firm swimmer body.... NOT! With all this lotion on I could easily slide into the tanning bed now.

Laying in the bed, I close down the clam top and I try to relax.

Shouldn't the lights be turning on? Did I miss a step?

Can't see through the ultraviolet sunglasses so I start feeling the inside of the bed searching for the ON switch. I don't want to take off the glasses as I don't want to catch one of those horrible eye diseases I just saw on the wall.

I find a button. MUST BE IT. I flip it.

And I lay there.

Shouldn't the lights be on now? I think that is the point of laying in a tanning bed.

Now I'm pissed. I am wasting good bronzing tanning time.

I sit up in the bed and take off the glasses. What did I push? This big red button? OH NO!! It says Emergency Off only.

Well, crap. I have to go back downstairs and tell the girl the bed is OFF.

Back go on the clothes. My tanning lotion is now being sucked up into my clothing.
On goes the shoes. Fluff my hair and down the stairs I go.

I see the clerk behind the registration counter and I say, "The bed isn't working. The lights don't come on."

Hmmmm, she says. Did you push the blue button on the wall?

Well, no I did not!! I didn't tell her I pushed the red button IN the bed.

She informed me the bed would work if I pushed the blue button so back upstairs I go.

Strip down to my Olympic swimming bod, find the glasses, put on the lotion, lay in the bed, push the blue button on the wall, close the clam top and I lay there.

Shouldn't the lights be coming on?????

Nothing. No Heat. No Lights. No golden body.

Crap. Double Crap and a big sh*t.

Out of the bed I go. Put on my clothes although I was tempted just to wrap myself in the towel but I opened the towel and it was the size of a dishtowel. That wouldn't cover my left butt cheek.

Fully clothed, minus shoes, I stomp down the stairs to the clerk behind the desk.

"It's not working. I see the numbers go down on the blue button machine, but no lights."

The clerk said to me "You didn't touch the red button did you?"

Well yes I did!!

"Do NOT touch that red button!!"

Too late. I not only touched it, I flipped it.

Not too pleased with me the clerk leads the way upstairs to Room #3. She points to the red button like I didn't see it and again states firmly "Don't touch this."

Ok, got it.

She leaves, I strip down for the third time. Buck naked and throw on the lotion. Pop on the glasses and lay in the bed.

Push the BLUE button. WALA. I feel the lights bronzing my well toned body.

1 minute, 2 minutes. Ummmm, I'm geting a little HOT and claustrophic.

3 minute, 4. Ok, if this doesn't shut off soon I WILL push that damn red NO NO button!!

5. Sweating and I have the clam top wide open.

6. And then a LOUD click. Lights turn off and I am "cooked." Put a fork in me. I'm done.

I hop out of the bed and look at myself in the full length mirror. I do NOT see a golden goddess. I do NOT see the tanned muscular girl that is on the label of the lotion. I see a flabby woman wearing red eye glasses stark naked.

I put my clothes on, now for the 3rd time in less than 10 minutes and I go down the stairs.

"Thank you for your help." I give her the bottle of lotion. I leave the building as I hear her say, "Come back again Jolene." Will do!!

Later that night my skin starts to itch. Like a sunburn itch. Sure enough my body does have a glow. RED! I am burnt. But it's a good burn that will undoubtedly turn me into the bronzing goddess I desire to be.

I will go back again in a few days. But instead of 6 minutes, maybe I'll go down to 3 and I will NOT touch that red button. Ever.

Horse hair

Call me crazy. Call me nuts. Call me desperate. But I did it.

My hair lately has been so coarse. No body. So dry and lifeless. Of course it's probably because I have dyed it for 30 years and blow dry it daily.

Once on a cruise, I splurged and got a facial. The stylist who was from Argentina or some erotic place that creates beautiful women with gorgeous hair told me that my hair was "VERY VERY DAMAGED." It sounded better with a sexy accent but the truth still was clear. I had crap hair. Miss Argentina 2008 cleansed my skin and put some magic potion in my hair that would "heal" my hair. Well surprise of surprise, after spending $150 on cruise products, my hair was still crap.

I have tried every shampoo and conditioner on the planet. I have prepped, babied and oiled my hair to get the life back.

Nothing worked. I was ready to try home remedies. Mayonnaise, beer.

But I went online last night and searched for "my hair looks like sh*t" and up comes a website called "Horse Hair and Mane."

Yup, it's horse shampoo and conditioner. I am chuckling as I am reading the advertisement but then I went to the comments and hmmmm, people were loving this product!!

And many people claimed that their hair grew faster and healthier. Pretty strong claims. But then again my hair hasn't grown in 2 years. It has gotten more gray but it really hasn't grown much. And I have a new style in mind for my daughter's wedding in September. That gives me 7 months to get a new head of hair. Game on.

This morning I went to a farm store. I was so hoping I wouldn't see anyone I knew to see me in the horse section as most of my friends know I do NOT own a saddle, let alone a horse.

And there I saw it. "Horse Mane and Tail" shampoo and conditioner. On the bottom shelf. I read the back of the bottle and it clearly had directions for HUMANS and HORSES. In that order. I quickly grabbed the oversized bottles (I guess for horse hair, you need a lot of shampoo and conditioner!) and went through check out.

"Did you find everything you need?" says the clerk. Yes, yes, just check me out. Please don't ask if I own a horse.....

I went home and hopped in the shower thinking this was probably going to be the worst mistake in my life and I will walk out of the shower, towel off my hair only to see all my hair in the towel. I would be BALD! Not a good look for an old lady.

But no. I still had hair. So far so good.

And this is the surprising part. The bottle claims that you can see the difference in your hair in the first application. Yeah, sure.... but I did!! My hair has never felt so soft!! It felt good and it looks healthier.

Now I don't know if it's just my mind working overtime or if I am just wishful thinking but my hair styled better and has a beautiful shine. Honestly.

I am sold.

But now I have a craving for a sugar cube.

Civic Duty

I came prepared. I had my Ipod, two video games, a book, a box of Whoppers, a bottle of water. I was ready. BRING IT ON.

I had been summoned for jury duty. Apparently the court would be unable to pronounce names and I would now be known as juror candidate number 143.

Having parked my car in the assigned space for jurors in the parking ramp at 8:15 am, I went through security at the court house. Which is somewhat overkill in Dubuque as our crime rate percentage is lower than the cost of living. But I stood in line ... three deep... and walked right through the security gate chatting with the nicest security guard on earth.

Up the steps to Court Room #3. I sat next to a young girl that looked s c a r e d t o d e a t h !! I asked if she was alright and she whispered "I don't know what I'm doing here! I'm only 18!!" Aaaah, the legal system knows no age!! She was shaking so hard and I was sure she was going to start crying any sec.

Obviously, she couldn't handle being my jury buddy so I opened up my book and started to read. And then... I heard some noise behind me... and I turned to look. Only to realize I was not looking anymore. I was STARING!! The woman behind me, was striking. She was no spring chicken and yet she had purple hair!! All I could think of was "This woman is BRILLIANT!!" She dyed her hair to look like a kook!! And she was very successful. She wore the most bizarre clothes which only accented her purple hair even more! This was sheer genius. Who would pick an old lady with purple hair with weird clothes to sit on a jury? I was jealous. I should have thought of this ploy.

And then this strange lady started to talk with me. Or I should say talk to me. I tried very hard to ignore her. I didn't want to be associated with a nutcase. I quickly turned to look at the frightened 18 year old but she was long gone in her own little world of panic. No where to look now but back at my book pages and pretend I was invisible.

The court clerk came into the room and told us we would be watching a video. It was entitled "How proud you should be to be selected" or something patriotic like that. The video was filmed back in 1967 when bellbottoms were all the rage, but it actually made me WANT to participate in this process. Forget picking the kook or the frightened teen. I am normal. I can be objective. I would want ME to be on MY jury!! Pick me! Pick me!!

Video over and off we shuffled to the actual court room where we would be sitting as actual jurors in this case. I thought to myself that this was really going to happen. I was going to be a part of the judicial process. Wondering if the case would be civil or criminal, I watched as the lawyer came into the room and set up his laptop on his desk. Was he the prosecuting lawyer or the defense lawyer. Was this man representing the "state?" He was dressed the part. Three piece suit with matching shoes. Very professional. I was impressed.

Then an older man with long gray hair and a shaggy beard dressed in old jeans and a flannel shirt came into the room and sat by his lawyer. This must be him. The criminal. I tried to keep an open mind. What did he do that brought him here today? Was he abused as a child? Or was he unemployed due to the economy. My mind was full of questions.

But just as quickly as the lawyer and his client came into the court room, they left. We, the 50 plus juror candidates, just sat there. What happened? Are we going to be selected now? Did the criminal and his lawyer look us over and decide we were too intimidating? Too scared? Too purple?

Ten minutes later a rolly polly man in a wrinkled gray suit came in and introduced himself as the court magistrate and said he had an announcement.

"Good news, this case has been settled 10 minutes ago. Your services will no longer be needed this week. Bad news, since your summons is for two weeks, you will need to check Sunday night to see if your attendance will be necessary for next week. But for now you are free to go."

So that was it. I had done my duty. At least for this week. My book went back in my purse next to my untouched Ipod, video games, box of Whoppers and bottle of water. And I filed out of the room behind the lady with the purple hair. But I will be ready again if called next week.