:/

Since I've become a "real nurse", I often find myself wondering why I chose this profession in the first place. I thought my days would be filled with adrenaline-pumping, life-saving action, but instead I'm examining boils on people's buttcheeks, sifting through poop for ingested batteries (and a screw), checking armpit abscesses or scooping out stool from commodes with plastic spoons to send for culture. I've lost my appetite, am unable to sleep for more than four hours at a time, feel like a zombie, and don't get to spend time with my loved ones anymore.

When does this get fun again?

Mr. Babers and TV

Michael's television preferences leave me scratching my head at times. Like my dad, he'll find the oddest things entertaining, like paraplegic basketball or something. Or, like my mom, he'll find some sci-fi B-movie marathon from the 80's to not only watch and rave about, but chatter to me every five minutes about the spandex-clad excitement unfolding before him.

Case in point: Earlier today, he purposefully chose to watch a program On-Demand about how to put fake facial hair on a little Asian boy to turn him into a werewolf. Oooh, exciting. Right now he is watching "American Ninja" which, from my 10-second observations every now and then, appears to be excruciatingly bad. During commercial breaks he told me a story and quoted lines from "Mad Max", but I wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying because inside my head I was thinking, "OMG, he can quote 'Mad Max'." I have never seen "Mad Max", nor had any real inclination to, but it was one of those movies (along with "Labyrinth" and "Dark Crystal") that my mom would try to get us to watch, which usually ended up scaring me.

Harry Balogh

According to an application on Facebook (it's like MySpace for adults), this is what our first child will look like. Since he's a boy, we've given him the name Michael wants for his future son -- Harry Balogh. I don't know where the green mohawk or smirky facial expression comes from. He kind of looks like a punk, actually. I imagine him running around the house with no pants on and pulling pranks on his parents. Hmm.

planning for the foo-cher

The past couple mornings I've experienced the lovely pains of a UTI. I don't know if it was because of that, or whatever other reason, that I started humming church hymns and downloaded some of my favorites to play around the house. I even told Michael that, whenever I die, I'd like the following songs played at my funeral mass:

On Eagle's Wings

God Be With You Till We Meet Again

Be Not Afraid

Ave Maria

I guess UTIs do funny things to your head. They're good songs nonetheless.