My Dream Closet

This is how I do my shopping now...

dreaming. online.

no actual money involved.

                                        Right now I'm into these
               crazy tall shoes.

 If you're feeling extra cheery...

                                                    

                                        ...or more mellow.

Oh.. I'm just in love with these clothes.

I think they are soft and wonderful.

The colors are whimsical.

Happy Summer Everyone!

All clothes are from

Anthropologie or Urban Outfitters

Inspi(red)

             Today I am inspired.

                                      By These Simple Photos.

They reflect elemental desires

To Enjoy Nature

                                                       To Travel

To Kiss..

 

To drink good tea.

                        To Enjoy All The Textures of Life.

To Read.

To Learn About Cultures

                                                            To Dream...

Just for a Laugh

I sincerely love to laugh. I think everyone knows this. There is nothing like the feeling of laughter, the pure joy. Well, that is unless you fake/force a laugh. Then it is just awkward.

I wanted to share a story, purely to make you laugh. If you don't laugh, don't worry, I am laughing as I write this.

This morning at work I encountered one of my patients, a gentleman quite advanced in age, who was pleasantly confused. At least I thought he was pleasantly confused. He ended up being crazy very agitated. He had decided that he was done with the hospital. He attempted to leave the room in his birthday suit. I convinced him that clothing was an acceptable option. And then we began the pacing around the unit. For quite a while we paced.

When he was heavily sedated calmed down I had him sit in the nurse's station with me while I attempted to document. He thought this to be great fun. He was astonished at how fast I could type. He pretended like I felt a draft when he blew on my hair. He poked me and then blamed it on an an innocent doctor. Anyway he cracked several jokes and when I shared a hearty laugh with him he followed it up with the greatest response. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said "We are having more fun than humans."

Later that day when I sent him to a nursing home he gave me a hug and begged me to take him home with me... It was tempting.


So that this is not another "wordless" post:


            Dessie and I at work... She's from Missisipi. So she has the best accent. Love her!

Jaci, Kristin, and I at a birthday celebration.

I love my fellow nurses.

I could not survive without them.

Debbie, some people have a more relaxed attitude at work. :)

Hello Out There

                                           I'm sure my six readers have given up on me.
                         But if any faithful friends are still to be had here is a general update.
                              Just be forewarned, this is a wordless post as my computer has
                      decided that all of my current camera cards are not worthy of reading.

                             It's September. And I have not even thought of fall decor.
                Instead I have been busy at work. I am sure most of you know that I am a nurse.
                                I work on a medical/surgical, oncology, pediatric floor.
                                                     Confused? Yeah, me too.
             The majority of my patients are adults there for medical problems, some go for surgery.
               We take the occasional pediatric patient and then we have a special hall for chemo.

                                                       I love being a nurse.
                            Whether I am helping clean an endlessly incontinent patient
       or giving the thousandth dose of Colace (a stool softener), I feel that ultimate fulfillment
                                            I love my patients with dementia.
           Yes, they can be frustrating. Yes, some of them have landed some kicks and punches.
                  But they are also the most vulnerable and need to be protected.
                                                
                                                       I love being a wife.
                         Whether I am being kissed or asked to wash smelly socks,
                                                 I know that I am loved.
                                               I know that I am cherished.
                                               I know that I am respected.
                    
                                                      I like being a student.
                                    Whether I am writing a paper or taking a test.
                              Although I'd take a test over writing a paper any day.
                  For those of you who don't know, I started working on my BSN this fall.
            I am currently taking only nine hours but I hope to take at least twelve next semester.
                             Some times it is stressful: This last Sunday I worked night shift (boring),
   got off at seven forty-five, drove thirty minutes to class, took a short nap, went to a two hour math class,
                        left that campus, drove twenty minutes to my other campus, took an exam,
                                               finally drove home, and crashed.
      
                     So enough about me, I'm enjoying catching up on everyone's blog.
                 I will attempt to post pictures at another point if my computer quits striking.
         

Red, White, and Blue

I just wanted to share some 4th of July goodness.

Of course, HGTV was an awesome resource.

I'm convinced this is what Heidi's children's birthday cakes will look like :)

 

Losing the Past

                                          I know it's not a popular topic.
               I typically stay pretty bright and I'm always excited about the future.
               However little moments from my past make me extremely nostalgic.
      This morning I was thinking of Canada, which I consider home, and I became very sad.

         It's stupid, but I couldn't remember the name of the street I spent seven years of my life on.
                                             The street with the gang house on it.
           The street that had Americans, Chinese, Phillipinos, Metis, and First Nationers coexisting.
                        The street with the yellow victorian house on the corner.
                                      The street that I dream of returning to...
                                                       Elgin Street.

                                  My chest constricted and my heart hurt.
                         My eyes stung and my throat became thick with tears.
                          Am I really losing my past? My memory of my home.
                 I instantly began skimming through my mental roledex of memories.
                     The brilliant green and blue of the northern lights dancing in the sky,
       the yaps of the scrawny dogs as they strain against their harnasses to start the race,
                         the myriad of cultures on display at the Folk-la-Rama,
                    the smell of "green coils" permeating the church service at camp,
                 the burning in my feet as my dad attempts to warm my frost bitten toes,
                               the tunnels and forts built in the snow....
           
                                                     I could go on.
                Canada is a beautiful country that I yearn to return to at some point.
                 To satiate my desire I did what any tech saavy person would do...
         I google mapped the homes I lived in and then looked at them in the "street mode"
                       Yes, I did feel like a stalker. It was totally worth it though.
                           Do any of you other missionary kids feel like this?


                       
                        
                        
                        
                         
                          

Mothers Day

                                                   Sunday was sort of a bum day...
                           It was the first Mothers Day that I was apart from my mother.
                                                    And I love my mother dearly.
             There was nothing I wanted to more than to be sitting on a thread bare green pew,
                    to hear Sis. Eisenhart make her funny jokes, or to give my mom a hug.
                                        Like I said, it was a bum day in that regards.


                         But on a less depressing note, this is what Mothers Day looked like here.

I made one of my mom's favorite recipes.

Strawberry Pretzel Dessert.

And then I was called upon to make the infamous

Green Bean Casserole.

I learned another cooking lesson in the process.

Never believe the "Number of Servings" on a can of French Onions.

This is how the story goes:

I got up early Sunday morning (shocking, I know)

and prepared this dish. To my dismay this "serves six" portion

barely made it halfway in my casserole pan.

At that point I tried to improvise.

I put it in a smaller dish.

I added more french onions.

I even contemplated adding more condensed soup.

You might ask: why not just double the serving?

To answer that question, I am not a boy scout and so am therefore never prepared for emergencies.

So what happened?

I found a small bag of frozen green beans cowering in the darkest corner of my freezer.

I was then able to double my recipe.

No one seemed to mind the slight freezer burnt taste (kidding).

Last and certainly least exciting was a bowl of vegetables that I made.

They were completely unexciting, but required for a balanced meal.

Yes mom, we did have the "perfect balance" and I thought of you.

My husband and mother in law.

She is really awesome.

We are totally blessed to have her in our lives.