(Moment of silence here where the Message Goat cringes, thinking that he may just have to go out and announce that Nurse Bohemian Knitter has fainted and had to be carried out on a stretcher....) (But no....wait....she rallies!!) (And so the Message Goat gives a sigh of relief and returns to his straw-munching and frolicking with the nanny-goats....) (*
(But back to Nurse Bohemian......) O*
Oh the disgrace of it all.......she had RUINED my moment. Ah, but I wasn't to be bested. As I slithered over to my desk and gathered my things for the day, I thought to myself: "You may have won this one, sis', but the day ain't over yet.....we'll find out if you're Road Nurse material afterall, oh yes we will!" I*
I checked out our schedule. And I cringed because I saw that we had several ranches to go to this day where there were huge ranch dogs. And this particular LVN has done nothing since Day One but complain about dogs. God, she drives me crazy with her moaning, groaning, and constant complaining about dogs. She hates dogs, any dog. Big ones, little ones, medium-sized ones---dogs. She's convinced that they're out to get her. Like she's the most choice morsel of dog-bait in the world. And thus, at every dang place we go where there's a dog, she will sit petulantly in the vehicle and fret-- until I am forced to coaxe her stupid ass out of the vehicle-- just because she's afraid of the patient's stupid dogs. A*
And so, with her dog-fear and my impatience to get this durn day over with---and armed with our assignments--- we took off.....into the Wild Wild West.... O*
On this day we were to go in her vehicle because on the third day of training, a trainee is supposed to act as if they are the one "in control"--pretending that she is doing the job on her own-- with the trainer along just for the ride and to provide some final supervision. A*
And now, I'll just admit here that there's nothing that I can criticize about her choice of vehicles. I will GRANT her that she came adequately prepared for work in Texas with a good choice of vehicle for a Road Nurse--the most beloved vehicle of Texans--a big pick-up truck. We all know that pick-up trucks BELONG in Texas. In fact, I would rather have a good pick-up truck than my own Jeep, but I can't afford one right now. So I was happy to pile in and let her drive me around in that nice truck. B*
But......her pickup is one of those fancy-schmancy new pickup trucks.....I mean, she's got the one of those huge V8's that's completely huge & beautiful, gorgeously covered with shiny metallic paint, complete with a luxurious and roomy back seat, a total luxury interior with "extras" such as a digital stereo and satellite radio, a sunroof, etc. And she treats this pick-up truck like it's Elijah's Chariot to Heaven-- and that it would be sacriligious to drink a Pepsi in it, much less get dirt on the fender. S*
So boy did she fret every time I told her where we were going and that it was usually down a horribly rough, non-paved country road, littered with obstacles & foot-deep holes gouged into the terrain. One time we went through some road construction and had to cross over actual TREE BRANCHES in the road-- and it really pissed her off. She muttered under her breath about how the "road crews should be complained about". (This puzzled me because I know her truck has 4-wheel drive, so I really didn't see what the big deal was, you know?--because in Texas, that's WHY we have 4-wheel drive--so you can GO OVER obstacles...) Nerd, I thought. She's a complete Nerd...... Onward we pushed-- into the Wild Wild West.... A*
And then...... she actually "guffawed" at me while I was reading some driving directions from a car-chart because I had said: "Yeah, okay, so in about 2 miles we gotta find County Road 3207--I know where it is-- it's a rock-dirt road that branches off to the left." W*
When she "guffawed" at me I answered "What?" And she chuckled sanctimoniously and said: "Hah!...rock dirt road!" A*
And then I realized .....that she was laughing at me! She was actually laughing at me for what I said because she thought the term "rock dirt road" is stupid and "hick-ish". This annoyed me because I thought this IDGIT is getting a total kick out of me saying "rock dirt road"---like I'm some hick or something!!! But miserably, praying to the Lord for patience, I kept silent-- resigned to my fate of having to deal with her until the end of the day.... A*
Anyway, when we got to the rock-dirt road--- suddenly her sarcastic smile vanished. And after we rattled & bounced down it for about 25 feet--- she slowed waaaay down until we were practically crawling. I looked over at her in puzzlement and she said defensively: "I don't want to have to pay $50 for a damn front-end alignment, okay?" I*
I simply remarked darkly and ominously: "Oh, but you will. Over and over....." A*
At each ranch we went to, she threw her hissy fit about the dogs and wouldn't get out of the damn truck till she knew the ranch's dogs weren't around. This began to drive me nuts. Because she would go on a tirade at each place saying things like: "I hate these stupid country dogs. They look like disgusting mongrels and they stink. Why don't country people ever have decent-looking dogs like spaniels or poodles or something? These ugly hound dogs all look like they came out of the movie "Deliverance" or something. They're totally gross and I can't stand them." *
I knew it was useless to tell her that most country folk keep dogs as their only protection against criminals or wild animals who would eat their chickens and goats. I knew she'd have no earthly idea how much a farmer or rancher needed a good herding dog to help him herd his cattle. And I knew for certain that there was no way on God's Green Earth that she would understand the simple, eternal relationship between a loyal family dog and its family who lived off Texan land. I *
I finally became so annoyed by her tantrums that, finally, I knew I had to do it. I had to do it and so I did. I gave her the "Ranch Dog Lesson": I *
I told her: "Look, here, sis. We're in Texas, okay? EVERY frigging ranch has ranch dogs. These ranch dogs will come inspect every intruder who comes onto their owner's property. You will simply have to learn how to behave around them. They usually won't harm you if you talk to them and act like you're not going to do anything to harm their owner. Simply talk gently to them and walk slowly, VERY slowly, up to the back door. Don't worry, the ranch owners are watching and will "call them off" should the dogs get unruly. But remember the most important rule--and this is important--should a ranch dog come at you in hostility, simply STOP and STAND PERFECTLY STILL until the dog owner comes to control the dog. Don't make any sudden moves. Now, if you'll follow these simple rules, you'll be just fine! So let's go, because I'm hungry and want to get out of here." S*
She seemed to listen, and I thought perhaps that I'd been able to at least impart SOME knowledge to this twirp. We went on with our day and I saw that she truly tried to overcome her fear of the Ranch Dogs. I relaxed and started to get a little more comfortable with her because she gradually stopped arguing with the car-chart directions, stopped acting like a prima-donna, and started to look like she just might relax and enjoy the life of a Road Nurse. O*
Our last stop of the day was the Crestfield Ranch, a ranch with the most beautiful paint-ponies you have ever seen. Lord, I'd give my eye teeth to ride one of their butterscotch & white colored paint ponies. They are some of the most beautiful, sweet, and ethereal beings I've ever seen-- and I often imagine that only beautiful fairies can ride them..... They are even too beautiful to put ugly saddles on--no, these gorgeous creatures should only be ridden bareback, into the mist, their riders calling out in triumph over a war won with the Leprechauns.... S*
Sorry, I was daydreaming. M*
Meanwhile, back at the Ranch...... Y*
Yes, so there we were at the Crestfield Ranch. We drove into the ranch, past its large pond, and past the goat pastures where there were beautiful spotted goats frolicking and playing. There were ducks on the pond. I sat back and enjoyed the beauty of this moment. The only thing that nagged the back of my mind is that I knew that that this ranch has a huge, white ranch dog the size of a Saint Bernard--his name is Buster--and I was worried that he'd frighten the LVN. But as luck would have it the dog wasn't around. Perhaps he was out in the back pastures, I figured. So I didn't say anything about him. She and I arrived at the main house, got out of the truck, and went into the house to tend the patient. T*
The visit went well except for one little thing. And this is my fault, I admit completely. We were all sitting at the dining room table where the LVN was in the process of taking the blood pressure of the elderly woman patient. The patient's daughter was talking to me about her mother's progress on her diabetic diet while I fiddled with my weekly task concerning the patient's insulin--whereby I was pre-filling a bunch of insulin syringes for the patient to use during the next week since she has poor vision and can't fill the syringes herself. A*
Anyway, while I was preparing the insulin syringes, all of a sudden, this BIG cockroach suddenly appears on the dining room table from behind a loaf of "Sunbeam" bread. Now....folks....I absolutely ABHOR and HATE cockroaches. I hate them so much that I will have an anxiety attack when I see one. And this stupid cockroach was ON THE TABLE-- and he was walking towards me, advancing deliberately as if in some sort of attack mode! I tried not to panic in front of everybody, realizing that farm folk don't really get very excited about stupid little cockroaches like I tend to get-- but I couldn't help pulling myself back a little, hoping against hope that this damn cockroach would change in his direction and go in a direction that was DIFFERENT than his current direction-- which was towards me. But he kept coming towards me, which panicked me further! Finally I simply HAD to stand up from my chair, stepping backwards as I did, saying breathlessly (yet trying to sound calmer than I was): "Uh...that cockroach is...well it's there by the insulin..." T*
The patient's daughter realized what was happening and mercifully offered: "I'll get him, honey" and flapped a big checkered dishcloth at him to flick him away. B*
But the roach wasn't to be moved--because he then decided to jump DOWN off of the table and onto the chair I was standing next to-- and then he kept on moving towards me! "Oh dear...." I mumbled in a wavering voice. I desperately wondered what in the tarnation kind of asshole aggressive cockroach is THIS??? Don't they usually avoid and hide from humans as vermin should?? But no.....this stupid gladiator cockroach kept coming at me!.....and I knew that I had to do something in order to prevent myself from losing total dignity and go running, screaming wildly, from the house with my hair standing on end in total crazed insanity...... So finally I summoned what bravery I had and flapped my own hand towards him, hoping to "shoo" him away. A*
And then that damn roach jumped off the chair right AT ME! "*
"AAAAIIGHHHEE!" I screamed, dropping my handful of insulin syringes all over the floor as I back-stepped away wildly to get away from this damnable roach! It seemed like the cussed thing was on a mission! And then... S*
Thankfully, and blessedly, the patient's daughter had stomped that cockroach so flat that he'd make paper look thick. Hugely relieved, I relaxed and tried to venture a peek at this horrible bug. Hah, I thought to myself. She fixed his little red wagon for sure! But the gladiator cockroach was still spread-eagled on the shoe-bottom of the patient's daughter. So she simply took her shoe off of her foot and banged it against the side of the kitchen trash can a couple of times till the flattened cockroach carcass fell into the garbage. "*
"Fixed his little red wagon," she remarked. A*
And I was greatly relieved. And that cockroach never bothered me again.... B*
But then... out of the clear blue sky...........to my utter mortification.......
The LVN snorted in merciless disgust and said sarcastically to me: "Are you having a bad day, Nurse?" She chuckled to herself a little and I could see that she thought I was the biggest idiot she'd ever seen in her life. And she continued her cruelty. "Ya know, Nurse, up in Detroit we call those silly little bugs "waterbugs"--they're completely harmless. They're more frightened of YOU than you are of them, heh heh." I *
I took this little insulting tirade in stride because there wasn't a dang thing I could do. What was I going to do? I certainly didn't want to lose control and let my poor patient and her daughter be a witness to me throttling a fellow nurse. Not to mention that I didn't feel like committing murder during the first month of my new assignment--it simply wouldn't look professional. So I let it slide and we finished up the visit. Then we left the house and loaded up into her fabulous pick-up truck. A*
As we drove down the ranch's access road back towards civilization, I tried to calm down and relax, enjoying again the beautiful view of the ducks in the pond, the paint ponies in the pasture, and........ a*
and suddenly here came Buster.... the Ranch Dog. T*
The LVN had her window rolled down. And here came Buster, trotting up to her side of the pickup where she had one arm crooked casually out the driver's side window--and Buster continued to trot along along the vehicle with us, keeping pace. "O*
"Oh, look!" she crowed delightedly. "This must be the Ranch Dog! And what a beautiful dog he is! And you know what? I've decided NOT to be afraid of them anymore!" T*
Then she leaned her head out of the truck window and spoke to the dog: "So how are YOU, Mr. Ranch Doggie? Mr. Ranch Doggie wanna talk to the Nice Nursies?" "*
Buster had suddenly, and for no reason at all, began a total dog attack on the LVN peering at him out of her truck window! He started barking wildly, snarling, and choking on his own slobber-- as if he were going to have a complete conniption fit!!--and then that dang dog began jumping up towards the LVN's window, actually trying to leap into the vehicle and attack her!!!!
As I gazed, horrified, dumbfounded & stupified upon the horrifying sight of Buster's big white doggy face in the driver's side window--with all of his razor-sharp teeth bared for view in his huge, foaming mouth--which was aimed right at the poor LVN.......I vaguely wondered what in the HELL had gotten into this dog!????
Buster kept snarling, barking, jumping and snapping-- continuing to try to make his mad jumps to get into the open truck window-- each time coming closer and closer to almost succeeding in leaping right through the opening and into the LVN's lap. And the, Good God, but he snapped at the LVN's arm and actually ripped a good size chunk out of her uniform sleeve! I couldn't BELIEVE that Buster was doing this because I'd never seen a Ranch Dog do such a thing!!!!! I thought miserably of how on earth I was going to explain to my boss that the LVN in my charge had been eaten by the Crestfield Ranch's dog, Buster, while we were out pre-filling insulin syringes...... "*
"OH MY GOD!" the LVN screamed, rearing back from the window as far as she could--and also taking her hands off the steering wheel of the pick-up truck WHILE we were still rolling down the road. "OH MY GOD HE'S GOING TO KILL ME!!!!!!" she hollered--and then all lI could think to do was to grab ahold of the steering wheel with one hand, to keep us from veering completely off the road-- yet at the same time while I was trying to use the other hand to try and stab the truck's control buttons--trying to find the right button that would raise the godforsaken windows and keep Buster out of the truck... "*
"WHICH BUTTON IN HERE RAISES THE DAMN WINDOWS?" I yelled at the LVN, stabbing at every button I could find while she screamed pitiously. I frantically stabbed all the various buttons that were located on the truck's console and the arms of each seat---but all that happened was that the windsheild wipers came on and cleaned the windshield, the windshield cleaner-fluid sprayed the windshield, the antenna for the satellite radio went up, a country music CD began playing "I've Got Friends In Low Places", the sunroof opened, and the truck's fog lights came on..... F*
Finally, I hit the right button just as the singer on the radio sang: "where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away......." F*
Finally the truck's windows rolled up to save the LVN, almost squashing stupid ole Buster's face in the process as they closed on him while he was still trying to climb his way through her window.....
And to her credit, the stricken LVN recovered enough where-with-all to grab the steering wheel and steer us back on course from our zig-zagging course through the left pasture, back onto the dirt road (while I silently thanked our lucky stars that we had not hit a tree or a bob-wire fence)--and so we got back onto the road and were able to drive away, leaving a foaming-at-the-mouth Buster in the dust. W*
We drove a bit, finally exiting the ranch...both of us breathing heavily in relief, thanking the heavens that we were in one piece and not "dogmeat" (pardon the pun). W*
We drove for awhile in silence. The poor LVN kept breathing rather heavily-- and I worried that she was going to flip out or something--the poor thing did seem pretty shocked by the whole ordeal. I felt sorry for her, really I did.... because even I know the dangers of an angry Ranch Dog--and also I knew that our company's uniform top is expensive, and so hers would definitely have to be replaced since her left sleeve now had a hole in it that was the shape of Buster's mouth.... O*
Okay, folks. I tried. I really TRIED, alright? I TRIED NOT TO SAY IT. A*
As God is my witness, I tried not to say it.....
but I said it anyway...... A*
After we'd gone a few miles down the road and we knew we were safe, and after we'd recovered a little from our ordeal, I innocently started up the conversation again. "Are you having a bad day, Nurse?" I asked, as sympathetically and sincerely as I could. "As I've told you before, down here in Texas we call those silly little dogs 'Ranch Dogs'. They're completely harmless. They're more frightened of YOU than you are of THEM...." U*
Um....she did make a comment with the F-word in it but I let that slide, thinking that the poor dear had just had a very rough day as a Road Nurse and certainly deserved to let off a little steam. When we got back to the office she trudged into the office, slinging her nurse bag through the back door with a definant flounce, and let the door close behind her in my face--as if she was letting me know that she was definitely "finished with me" and my nonsense. I opened the door and slunk in behind her, passing through the breakroom where my buddy Brandi and the Director were sitting sipping Pepsi's on their lunch hour. Both me and the LVN paused---both of us rather at a loss of words. I noticed my Director's questioning glance and I knew she was wondering how everything had gone. And so I gave my final report on the LVN. I*
I turned to the LVN and said, in my grandest.....er....grandest SOMEBODY imitation and I pronounced: "Behold! Thou has passed the difficult test that only the purest-in-heart can survive. Ye have survived great difficulties with honor, and you have triumphed in glory upon the battlefield--and therefore, ye deserveth the reward of the wearing o' the victor's laurel. And so, Grasshopper.....by the powers vested in me by the Grand State of Texas and the less-grand County of Podunk--- I now pronounce thee a BONAFIDE 'Road Nurse'. Go forth, NURSE, and tend to THY PATIENTS!!!!" M*
My Director chortled, almost choking on her Pepsi, and said sardonically: "You're late handing in your paperwork...."
and I joyously ran to my beloved desk and my beloved late paperwork--dreaming of riding butterscotch and white-colored paint ponies....... *
* * * * *
"Blame it all on my roots I showed up in boots And ruined your black tie affair T*
The last one to know The last one to show I was the last one You thought you'd see there A*
And I saw the surprise And the fear in his eyes When I took his glass of champagne A*
And I toasted you Said, honey, we may be through But you'll never hear me complain 'C*
'Cause I've got friends in low places Where the whiskey drowns And the beer chases my blues away A*
And I'll be okay I*
I'm not big on social graces Think I'll slip on down to the oasis Oh, I've got friends in low places W*
Well, I guess I was wrong I just don't belong But then, I've been there before E*
Everything's all right I'll just say goodnight And I'll show myself to the door H*
Hey, I didn't mean To cause a big scene Just give me an hour and then W*
Well, I'll be as high As that ivory tower That you're livin' in 'C*
'Cause I've got friends in low places Where the whiskey drowns And the beer chases my blues away And I'll be okay I*
I'm not big on social graces Think I'll slip on down to the oasis Oh, I've got friends in low places............. I*
I guess I was wrong I just don't belong But then, I've been there before A*
And everything is alright I'll just say goodnight And I'll show myself to the door I*
I didn't mean to cause a big scene Just wait 'til I finish this glass Then sweet little lady I'll head back to the bar A*
And you can kiss my ass..............
As usual, your posts are a bright spot in my day :) I must admit I feel for the new gal... being a city girl too LOL.
Aw Rebel, you would need the patience of a saint to have resisted getting that dig in. Thanks for making me laugh again today. :o)
Well ya know, Reb...those yukky roaches lay eggs, the eggs stick to peoples shoe gear, and they, um, get rubbed off in the carpets of the next place a person goes. Even fancy, schmancy, hoity toity truck carpets. And, you gotta love a discerning HOUND - or Great Pyrenese ranch dog, heh? Bless her heart! Thanks for the laughs!
You wrote rock dirt road, and I immediately thought of three roads. Then I too wondered what was wrong with that statement while the city girl smirked.
If a bug is big enough to be instantly recognizable and can jump, it's a thing of terror and needs to be stomped.
That was absolutely marvelous!!!!! I'm glad you didn't push her out the window and feed her to the dog 'cause that would have been just plain tacky (and what I would have done). About the roach, I live "in the big city" and when I saw one of those huge things, the kind they have in the insect zoo in the smithsonia, and I closed the door and refused to enter the room until it was gone. And having driven through TX, I think your directions are just fine. That's how I usually give directions (I can never remember street names anyway, but restaurants I remember).
Thanks for the laugh- HOW were you so nice to her all along? Dontcha love how sometimes karma is as INSTANT and as obvious as a 1000 lb weight in a Looney Tunes Toon?
I lived with a fat telephone book in the middle of my kitchen floor for 2 weeks until a brave friend visited and removed the (dead) roach from underneath. Even in death..... Dog, naugh. Even the rabid ones are friendly. He was just saying hello...Your posts are the joy - and laugh - of my week. They must be put into a book. Seriously.
Oh girlfriend, I sure love your posts!!
I'm looking forward to hearing more stories about that poor girl's adjustment to Texas life. She'll do fine once she decides to stop living like she's still in Detroit! The interim could be kinda painful though.
Keep your chin up! Your posts sure make me smile.
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