Saturday, May 13, 2006

Land O'Moon Pies

As far as being rebellious, it may be more of a state of simply not being "disciplined" that is really my problem. Although this quality was never allowed in either school, my university, or my current profession, I can, however, be "un-disciplined" to my heart's content in my knitting, yeehah! Here is a pair of my "Non-Matching-Fair-Isle-Extravaganza" Socks:

Alas, though, I live and work in a small town where things are pretty conservative. Especially in knitting and crocheting. Nobody would ever dream of using anything but Red Heart yarn. In fact, nobody even knows that there exists any other kind of yarn BUT Red Heart.

(They know that Caron exists but they think it's the generic brand of Red Heart....)

Living and working in a small town surrounded by vast, rural ranch and farm lands is like living on a different planet sometimes......in fact....

You Know You're a Nurse in a Small, Texan, Town When...

...a patient calls you on the phone to tell you she's having chest pain and you keep her on the line while you call 911 on the other-- and the paramedics call you back to ask: "Where's County Road 2043? Is it back behind the chicken plant or yunder by the lake?"

(Translation in hick-ese: "yunder" means "over by".)

...you actually reply to the paramedics: "No, it's about a mile down that curvy road by the water plant and then you make the first right past the tractor dealer into a trailer park and she's the pink single-wide with 2 chickens in the front yard---oh, and the yard dog doesn't bite..."

...the single most dreaded thing any human being could ever hear is getting called by every single one of their first, middle, last, and nick- names, all in a row, loudly, by either their mother or grandmother...

"Jamie Lynn Bodeen Pickering-Luce Jinny-Jo Lu-Lu Baker!!!" (The party of which has just turned a deathly shade of pale, standing stock-still in mortification, wishing to High Heaven that just this one time the Lord God Almighty would reach down and snatch her from the jaws of disaster...)

..."cussing" is considered saying things like: "Where in the Sam Punchinelly is that man?" or "My pharmacist wanted me to sign a whole bunch of papers for this new Medicare balogney and I told him I wasn't giving him diddly-squat!"

...nobody would ever dream of saying "Sam Punchinelly" or "diddly-squat" in front of the preacher...

...you visit a patient for medical reasons but you stay an extra half hour to help her figure out where her stitch-count error occurred in a crocheted ripple afghan and you find the mistake for her and fix it...

...you're a nurse and get sick yourself, finally dragging yourself to the doctor, and you find yourself standing with others in a waiting area, half naked in a gown, confused, meekly holding your urine specimen ---and then you realize that all the other patients you're waiting with are your own patients

...
...one of your patients then politely whispers: "Nurse, honey, you're supposed to put your pee-cup in that little room over there and then you wait here till they call you for your X-ray"...

...the next day it's all over town that you have a tattoo...

...on Wednesdays you go to lunch at Charlie Ray's Smorgasbord and half of your patients, all the town cops, all the firemen, the mayor, most of the lawyers, and a sprinkling of ranchers are there also because it's "chicken and dumpling day"...

...the bail-bondsmen don't really have to work very hard because they know exactly where their fugitives are because they're usually related to them. They usually just make a phone call and say something like: "Okay, Bubba, time to give yourself up. But the judge is on his lunch hour so meet me at the feed store first to help me load some sacks of deer corn"...

...you get behind in your day's work because you spent an extra hour at a patient's house swapping various tips for making chicken and dumplings -- there's the roll-them-out method, the Bisquick method, and then there's always the little-known "country secret" method of piling the dumplings on top of the chicken in a sheet-cake pan and then baking it in a 350-degree oven until the dumplings are browned...

...you can also get behind in your day's work because you stayed a little too long at a patient's house to watch "The Price is Right" and you had fun yelling "ONE DOLLAR!!" along with the rest of the family--and then you stayed a bit longer because of course everybody wants to see who wins The Showcase Showdown...

...you're out visiting a patient and you have to call 911 for them to take the patient to the emergency room. Forty-five minutes later, on the way back to your office, you get into a fender-bender with a pickup truck pulling a horse trailer, and the same fire truck that previously came for your patient comes in reponse to your own accident...

...you finally get back to your office after the accident and everybody already knows who hit who, the angle of the jack-knifed truck and horse trailer, and exactly how loud the old coot who caused the whole thing hollered at the police officer: "Sir, she knew DANG WELL that I was gonna back up in the bank drive-thru because any FOOL could see that I'd pulled in TOO FAR!"

...half of your patients are related to people you work with...

...the most dastardly "price-gouging" theory you ever heard whispered was that everybody is pretty much POSITIVE that the local pharmacist raised the price of Pepto-Bismol during the last flu season...

...you hear comments in 12-Step meetings like: "My wife and I got into a scrap and she got mad and peeled outta the driveway in my brand new pickup --and so I shot the tires out from under her -- but then CAN YOU BUH-LEEVE IT but the durn PO-leece locked me up for that!?! What kind of world is it where you cain't even SHOOT YOUR OWN TIRES OUT??"

...you hear comments in 12-Step meetings like: "The PO-leece pulled me over and asked me to walk that white line and I told that officer 'now looky here, I've got ear problems that affect my balance and so I couldn't even walk that dang white line even if I WAS SOBER!'"

...the PO-leece spend a lot of time wondering what to do about senile elderly drivers... like the time when old Mrs. Hattwell came home from shopping at the "Walmark" and an irritated cop knocked on the back door a few minutes later and announced: "Junior, I'm here to let you know that your mother just ran Mr. Picketts off of County Road 2133--and I think this time it's time to take her driver's license away, I surely do!"

...you go visit Mrs. Hattwell the next day and she tells you indignantly: "I was pure-dee mortified when that PO-leece Man came to the door like that--because I just know Elma-Lou Cotton saw the whole durn thing."

...a 16-year old girl can still get a whuppin by her mama for lying about her report card. (Actually, I think it's the law in Texas that ANYBODY can get a whuppin from their mama or grandmother for lying, no matter HOW OLD they are--it's not considered assault but rather "good upbringing")...

...there's still "bag boys" in the grocery stores to help women carry their groceries to the car...

...sometimes in an office meeting, if there's an employee going through a particularly difficult personal experience, someone will suggest prayer for that person and the others agree and say: "Yeah, and get Shirley to do it cuz she's a Sunday School Teacher and knows how to pray real good"...

...sure enough, Shirley says a long, beautiful, thought-up-at-the-moment, prayer and asks for Help not only for the person in trouble but for every single other employee of the company, and you feel good for the rest of the day because you figure that God SURELY answers the prayers of Sunday School Teachers.....

...your co-worker's child is in the hospital, you stop by there every single day to check on them both and take the child a Barbie Mermadia doll or something just to see her smile.....

...that same child's scribbly crayon drawings pinned to your bulletin board are considered more beautiful, precious, and important than any medical chart or calendar of conference dates---and your boss agrees...

And I made a rural pen,

And I stain'd the water clear,

And I wrote my happy songs

Every child may joy to hear.

(William Blake, "Reeds of Innocence")

13 comments:

Charity said...

Oh, my goodness, you gave me a good laugh! I'm Canadian, but I grew up in a small, rural community. Once you change a few small things, you might as well be talking about my own small town! Too funny!

EvaLux said...

Hiya, I just walked over from the yahoogroup :) I'm a european city girl and I would give anything to live in a town like that :) It made me laugh alot!!!

Cheers Eva
sweetpea at sweet-p dot net

Anonymous said...

Thank you for a most hilarious blog to read.
I am also a nurse but the rural town I am in is definitely larger than yours. We can tell who the new folks are by what they call the buildings or streets. The newer folks want to give things fancier names and the old-timers refuse to use the new names.

Claudia said...

Your socls are drop dead gorgeous - and I'm still chuckling. I read you blog out loud to my sweetie and he loves it too!

Clare said...

Oh My Goodness. I am momentarily stunned. Does Bush originate from your town? Sorry. I completely enjoy your blog. You are obviously a unique and considerate personality. Being a nurse and all. Personally I think that those whom conformity is the be all and end all are the MAD people. Those like yourself, are the truely SANE.
I know that there are towns like yours here in Oz. I did grow up in one where if you wern't at least 2nd generation you were a blow in.
Being differnt is a sanity saver. Please keep blogging.

Anonymous said...

Oh my gravy, I stumbled up on yer Blog and I have been chuckling ever since. Boy can I relate to YOUR town...I lived in teh South after moving from the North. I moved to a VERY small town and the statements "down the road a piece" was actually the directions to just about eveyone in the town ;) and well Red Heart yarn, could there be any other? That youngin' that came home to the Werstler Farm brought back some of that city yarn, you know they have these big fancy foreign names fer it like Noro but ain't nothin' like the Red Heart I used to make the afghan I made fer the church raffle. ..thanks for the chuckle, I book marked yours heehee!

Deb said...

Oh, you are a hoot! You could be a fantastic stand up comedian or writer. Course y'ou'd have to keep the day job to keep the material coming.
I'm bookmarking your blog.

ida said...

Catherine Belle, clucking hen on the back-porch steps, layed a blue egg when she saw the rooster pics.
I, on the other side of the window, cackled and gee=hawed while reading your hilarious tales!
Too bad, though, you know...those turquoise socks!
thanks to you for the laughs!

Amy said...

Copies of your tales are all over my house. I have to share you with DH and friends. They can be found rolling around in the floor with laughter any time there's a new entry. What a delicious writer you are! Please oh please don't stop blogging. Your tales are as good as your knitting and your knitting ROCKS!

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