I was doing so well with keeping them current, but then I switched jobs and I’ve had a crazy 2 weeks. So let me get you up to speed.

The first week of my new job was great. Monday through Wednesday went basically without a hitch. Friday, fantastic. Saturday, my last two appointments were back to back euthanasia’s. Ugh.

The second week of my new job went really well, too. Monday that is. Tuesday was awesome, until about 9:20. We had Socks, a big 22 lb. tom cat come in for a leison on his right hind leg, and vaccination update. Socks is a very big boy. I’m not going to go into great detail, but long story short – I was restraining Socks so we could give him his first round of antibiotic injections, and bing-bam-boom I ended up getting my left hand bit. Numerous times. Socks was not happy.

Wednesday, my hand started to ache horribly in the wee hours of the morning. After I got bit, I rinsed my arms (the right arm got scratched) under scalding water for like, 10 mintues- then drenched them with hydrogen peroxide, then put triple antibiotic ointment all over them. My hand still started to swell and turn bright red around the bites. Ok, this was a big cat, my hand is really sore because I got bit by a big strong cat.

Thursday, my hand is worse. The skin is starting to get tight, and the pain is really intense. It’s turning a darker shade of red. I keep putting ice on it because it soothes it slightly. Thursday afternoon rolls around and I decide, it’s really time for me to see a doctor. I called my boss so they could call in a worker’s comp claim and I head to the ER once I got the go-ahead from the insurance company.

I get to Harrisburg hospital, and proceed to wait for 5 HOURS in the waiting room. FINALLY, they move me to a secondary waiting/treatment room, where they draw lines on my hand to mark the boundaries of my infection. Jeeze, I could have done that 5 hours ago. 45 minutes later, I’m seen by a “physician assistant”- which I have yet to understand what their job actually is- who tells me they are going to hook me to an IV and give me a boost of antibiotic then send me home with augmentin and vicodin. Cool. So, treatment is over, my hand is actually looking better already, and I go to the 24 hour rite aid to get my meds. I took my mom out to dinner at Damon’s for spending all day at the hospital with me, and we had a really nice nurse who cut my food for me because she felt bad for me :-D

Fast-forward to Friday. My hand looks even worse than it did before the IV antibiotics, and the swelling and redness has surpassed the previously drawn boundaries and proceeded to my wrist/forearm. The pain is starting to get ridiculous, even with suitable doses of vicodin, and my skin feels like it’s going to burst. Late morning, I break down and call my Mom and ask her to take me back to the ER. They asked me to come back to make sure it isn’t spreading anyway…

We get to the ER at approximately 2pm, and get to see a doctor around 6pm. They are so efficient it makes my head spin. One thing I did find out about being in the ER for so many hours two days in a row is, I would jump off the George Wade if I had to work there every day. There was a bum that sat in the waiting room all day, demanding to see a doctor and they wouldn’t let her because there was nothing at all wrong with her. And she kept getting out this book and talking to it. And then there was this other crazy lady who sat in a wheelchair for two hours, and when she was told there were still 3 people ahead of her, she got up and walked out and left. SHE DIDN’T NEED TO BE AT THE ER ANYWAY! There should really be two ER’s at every hospital, one for people with insurance and one for people without. Sorry if that sounds cold and not politically-correct, but my hand was falling off and I had to wait a total of 9 hours over two days time to be seen because of these people who have nothing better to do than to go there and chill. Ugh!

So, anyway, once I’m finally seen- they decide pretty directy that I need to be seen by the orthopedic staff, and I need to be admitted. So, from Friday April 24th to Monday April 27th, I got to spend the nicest weekend of the year so far on the 10th floor in room 1020 D. I had a roommate for the first night, but she got sent home the morning of the 2nd day. She liked to watch the Food Network, too. My days consisted of the following; Being woken up every hour during the night for them to ask “Are you sleeping OK?”, being given trays of shitty food that I didn’t touch because my Mom brought me 3 meals a day <3, getting IV antibiotics every 6 hours, and percocet every 4 hours, watching Food Network, and having my arm suspended vertically from the ceiling non-stop.

When the doctors finally released me, I can’t remember being so happy! I had never spent the night at the hospital before, and I can say it was the worst thing ever. I HATE being away from my family and Dave, and  knowing I couldn’t see any of them from 10pm to 11am was HORRIBLE! And, the whole time I was there, I thought about every movie involving horrible things happening at hospitals (I.E Kill Bill… I was expecting Buck to come in… yikes!)

So, now, my hand is all healed. I got to go back to work on Tuesday the 28th, and I LOVE my new job. I went back to Nationwide today to visit Ashley and take her lunch and her bday present, and the people all commented about how happy I look :-) It’s because I am so so happy.

Anyway, now that I’m healthy again, I’ll be blogging regularly. I’ve missed it!

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I have moved on to Plan B. And no, I don’t mean the emergency contraceptive. I mean my “plan B” career. The average person changes careers 7 times in their lifetime. Not just jobs, but entire careers. When I graduated college and came back from my month long vacation in SoCal, I realized I needed a real job. I put in an application at Nationwide Insurance, and got hired. I started as a claims processor, which sucked. I answered calls, sent letters… I was pretty much a glorified receptionist. Then, I got a promotion to my current position, which is an MD/PD Appraiser. Of course, I don’t actually get to do anything very technical, I still work in the rental department- so now I’m pretty much a glorified administrative assistant. Except instead of having a “boss” whose work I have to do, I have lots of bosses whose work I have to do… they’re called claims managers. After about a year and a half, the constant stress and arguing and feeling like I’m never going to actually change anything and I’m just spinning my wheels officially caught up with me. I believe there is only so long that you can put up with never making progress if you have any shred of aspiration before you snap. So I decided I needed to get out before I, A) drove my car into an elementary school on my way home or B) burned the motha’ down.

The only other career field I would be interested in pursuing is something dealing with animals. I have always loved animals and been interested in animal welfare. Growing up, my family always had lots of pets ranging from a dog to a hedgehog, so I have experience with all types of small animals. In my job at Nationwide, I was a professional “bad guy”. I was always the “bad guy”. When someone got a bill the didn’t expect to get from Enterprise, they called me. When someone realized they didn’t have rental car coverage only after they had an accident and needed a replacement vehicle but couldn’t afford to pay for it on their own, they called me. When someone had an agent who forgot to add rental car coverage on their policy like they asked them to… do you think they called the agent? Nope, me. When one of our policy holders got hit by someone, and the other company accepted liability and the other company didn’t pay for their rental…. they called me, although at that point the claim has nothing to do with us. Do you get the picture?

So, to save you from reading more of my whining and complaining… I’ll cut to the chase: I needed a job where I could be “the good guy”- at least once in a while. I considered working at a shelter, but I could not deal with rejecting people applying to adopt animals or turning away people trying to surrender animals because of space limitation. If I had to turn away animals because the shelter had no space, I know what would happen… they would end up at my house. So I decided to look into a position as a veterinary technician (AKA Vet Tech).

Vet tech’s are basically the unsung heroes in a vet’s office. They handle record keeping, customer service, lab work, assisting with exams, surgeries, pre-op and post-op care, cleaning, toe nail clipping, vaccinations, dental work… the list goes on and on. They are the veterinarian’s supporting cast. It’s a job where you can make a difference. You can be a “good guy”. Sometimes, this job does require you to find the good in the situation- and sometimes you have to be the “bad guy” or deal with bad situations… but there isn’t a single job in the world that’s all good.

So, I put in my resume at Cove Mountain Animal Hospital. This is a private practice that used to be called “Clark’s Ferry Veterinary Hospital” , but since they moved to the Cove in Duncannon- they changed their name accordingly. I decided if I was going to switch jobs, I wasn’t going to drive 45 minutes to another animal hospital, especially since it was likely I would take a slight pay cut, so if it was meant for me to have this job, it would be at this hospital since it’s only 1 mile from our house. A month of hearing nothing passed…but to my surprise, Nora (the staff manager) called me the day before Baxter’s follow-up appointment after getting neutered and said “Please re-fax me a copy of your resume so we can do an interview when you come in tomorrow.” I was like, Wow, OK. So I got them my resume and went in for his appointment the next day. During the exam, I talked to Nora and the doctor about the position, the salary, the benefits and why I wanted the job. After all the questions were answered, Nora then said “Can you start Monday?”

While I would have loved to say yes, I had to tell them I really needed to give Nationwide a two-week notice. I didn’t want to burn the bridge, in case I need to go back to them for a job in the future if something doesn’t work out. They agreed, and instead asked that I come in and work Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday 6:30p to 9p after work, and Saturday morning. This has made for a hectic week, but it’s very very worth it.

I really enjoy what I have been doing. I have so much to learn, and at times I feel like I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m catching on quickly [I think]. In my first week, I have learned to restrain animals, read a stool sample, do a heartworm/lyme/E. canis test, write prescriptions, some record keeping and billing, and how to properly clean the office areas. I’m sure there is more stuff I have picked up on… but it seems like there is so much to know, it’s hard to keep track of. I did order a vet tech text book yesterday from Amazon, so I’m hoping it will help me get even more familiar with terms I keep hearing so I will be able to absorb the info better.

I will definitely keep updating how I’m doing with this job. I’m so excited, because what I’m learning is also really inspiring me on what to write about in my other blog, www.animal411.wordpress.com.

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No, he isn't the Greek God, but he still rocks.

This is Zeus (Aka, Jezus – pronounced: Hey-Zeus!). Dave and I rescued him in October with the help of two of our friends, Pete and Katie. They came across this big meat-head of a dog & took him in when he desperately needed someone to help him out. They called us because they knew we were involved in rescue, and the first time we saw him we knew we couldn’t give him up.

Zeus is our first experience with a REALbulldog. I say real, because while we had Nala at the time…. Zeus is in a class of his own. When Nala snorts.. it’s cute. When Zeus snorts, whatever is in his mouth or nose ends up on whatever happens to be in the line of fire (I.E. The wall, the couch, your face, your open mouth if you are yawning…etc etc.) When Nala lets a bulldog fart, it’s silent but deadly. When Zeus does it? Loud but deadly. And when I say loud I mean LOUD. When Nala poops, it’s just a little bulldog poop. When Zeus poops… it’s like a horse. And even when he’s outside, you can’t stand down wind from him because you can smell it across the yard.

Zeus weighs 95 pounds and has a 28″ neck (which is slightly larger than my waist!). When he decides to rub up against your chair to scratch his side, he moves your chair over. If he accidentally runs into the table, he moves the table. He is the epitome of the term “a bull in a china shop” (Luckily we don’t own good China). If he is forced to step over something, he will almost always step on it, break it, and fall off- and if he has to walk around something you can bet he will just try to walk through it. When we take him for walks, by the time we get to the end of the driveway he is breathing heavy and if we try to walk him to the end of the road he generally needs a 5 minute break halfway. His body isn’t made for walking, jumping, or running. In the rare event that he is playful enough to run outside with the smaller dogs, he almost always runs into something- and it is never graceful.

Zeus is one of the greatest sources of comedic relief that I know. Since he almost always breathes through his mouth, it always looks like he is smiling, and when he does attempt to close his mouth you can always see his bully under-bite with very very crooked teeth. His eyes sort of look like a creepy old man in a van at a playground, and he has one ear that sticks up while the other folds over. He barks when he’s hungry, thirsty, bored, playful, excited, angry, happy, sad, or just for the heck of it. He loves to sleep on his back, and loves to get brushed. When I give him a bath, all I have to do is tell him to get in and he does it. Of course, he argues and acts like he is going to get out, but if I tell him “stay”, he stares at the faucet, defeated, and deals with it.

He has a huge heart to go with his huge head, and he wants nothing more than to have someone play with his favorite toy or rub his ears. One of his favorite things to do is lay on the floor next to the couch while we watch TV. I will never understand why anyone would want to get rid of him, but I am so happy to be able to give him the life he deserves.

Zeus.

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My first attempt at Baklava (excuse the poor quality photo)

Baklava does not have Greek origin. It is actually a Turkish holiday desert. But Greek restaurants sell it, Greek Fest has it every year- and boy oh boy do I love it. This is my first attempt at making it all by my little lonesome and I don’t usually toot my own horn but Yum! Now I’m hungry for saganaki and loukoumades :-( LUCKILY, May is just around the corner, and with May comes the annual Greek Fest at the Greek Orthodox Church in Enola, PA. Woo hoo! I am going to eat my face off this year!

The tradition of a woman taking her husbands name is such in this country because of our patriarchal influence. Through googling, I have come to find out that not every society is patriarchal. There are actually matriarchal societies still in existence, and one particularly has grown to interest tourists. In a very small city of Li Jiang, China, the Mor Soue people who reside there follow a matriarchal system. The city does not have traditional “marriages”. Instead, when a boy and girl decide they like one another, they become their “Achia” or “loved one”. The woman has a hut of her own, and the man comes to visit her during the day but returns to his hut to earn his living and sleep. Any children conceived are the responsibility of the woman to raise and care for. The children are aware of who their father is, but he does not play an active role in the woman’s life. If the woman decides she is no longer happy with the man, she can simply ask him to not return and she can find another achia. No divorce. No problemo.

While it would be nice sometimes for Dave to have his own hut so I wouldn’t have to clean up his dirty boxers- I just don’t see the way of the Mor Soue people working out for us. I think the tradition of taking your husbands name is beautiful, and I look forward to being Mrs. Lightner… but it did get me thinking… what about my family?

I hate when women hyphenate their last name to their husbands. It’s like a semi-gesture. Like, “Wow, it was a nice gesture for you to take my last name…. after yours”. Some people might think it’s a great compromise… I think it’s just confusing for everyone. Kids either don’t have the same last name as the Dad or the Mom. Everyone in the family is cursed with having like 8 names. God forbid the daughter with a hyphenated last name hyphenates her last name when she gets married! She could go from Megan Marie Smith-Jones to Megan Marie Smith-Jones-Stephenson! (I don’t know anyone named Megan Marie Smith-Jones). I also never know what to call a customer when I have to talk them if they have two last names like that. And I don’t know how fast to say it. I thought hyphens meant you were supposed to say words faster, so I always try to say the names faster to somehow appease theses people into thinking 1 last name + 1 (-) + 1 last name = 1 big last name.

Hyphenating my last name is not for me. So, I started thinking. Maybe I could make my last name my middle name. Instead of Juliet Marie Parrish, I would be Juliet Parrish Lightner. I brought this up to my parents who flipped out. “Do you have any idea how long we thought about what middle name would sound best?!?” I wanted to say “Probably 5 months, you wouldn’t have found out I was a girl until you were at least 4 months pregnant… 9 months – 4 months = 5 months” but I kept that to myself because I’m sure my parents did work hard on my name. I have a nice name.

So, I thought about my other options…. men who take their wives last names are weird. I just get this image of a bad erotica film where a man is ball-gagged and the woman is spanking him with a paddle… I won’t go into any further detail.

I finally landed on an option that is going to work for me. Juliet Marie-Parrish Lightner. It’s great. I get to pay tribute to my family for all they’ve done, while honoring my husband by taking his name and not cursing my children with two parents with different last names because one is hyphenated or emasculating my hubby. Sure, I am going to have 4 names… but I know of people who actually have 2 separate middle names, so I don’t really feel that bad.

With my new name, I will also no longer have the same name as Dr. Juliet Parrish (played by Faye Grant) in “V” a TV series in 1984. See below.

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It is a blog I am writing for Helping The Helpess Pets to help spread awareness about responsible pet ownership, animal welfare and legislation regarding animals and pet owners. Good stuff! Give me suggestions or send me questions you would like answered, juliet.parrish@gmail.com.

<3

My man, Lewis B-b-b-black!

So Friday, Dave and I got out of Harrisburg at 4pm to go see Lewis Black at the F.M Kirby Center in Wilkes-Barre, PA. We headed to the Mohegan Sun Casino at Pocono Downs at 6pm to eat dinner at the wonderful, fabulous, amazing Ruth’s Chris Steakhouse. If you haven’t eaten at Ruth’s Chris- put it on your bucket list, because while I have had some amazing steaks, none compare to those I have eaten there. Filet mignon + broccoli au gratin + mashed potatoes + 1 glass Shiraz = 1 happy girl :-)!

Petite Filet Mignon at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse. Mmmm.

After dinner, we trekked to the public square in Wilkes-Barre, which is where the F.M Kirby Center is. Dave and I didn’t know what to expect when we got there, but we were extremely pleasantly surprised. First of all, our parking was FREE. Then, we go inside the Kirby Center to find an absolutely beautiful theater. They had cafe tables setup in the lobby with cocktails, of course Lewis Black merch being sold, and snack bars if you were hungry. I wish we had gotten there earlier than we did because the lines to get drinks were just too ridiculous to stand in.

F.M Kirby Center in Wilkes-Barre, PA

There were only 3 disappointments in the night. The first came when I realized where the seats were. TicketMaster SUCKS. Their little diagram on their website was WAY off where our seats actually were. But whatever, we still had a good view and the accoustics in the theater were fine so we could hear anything going on. Actually, scratch that… we COULD HAVE heard anything going on, if it wasn’t for the only other 2 disappointments of the evening. 1) The asshole beside us, and 2) the asshole(s) behind us.

So, let us first discuss asshole #1- whom I like to call, The Wench. She looked like a wench, sounded like a wench, and acted like a wench. When John Bowman, Lewis’ opener, came onto the stage, she started screaming “Booo!” at the top of her lungs. Of course, she is one of the only people doing this. Then she and her cohort started complaining as loudly as possibly about how unfunny he is, blah blah blah. The real kicker is, this guy was actually REALLY funny- I thought he was just as entertaining as Lewis. So, I thought her ridiculous behavior would stop when he stopped. No, no, no. It was actually WORSE when Lewis came out. Not only did she TALK BACK to EVERY joke he told the whole time… but when she did laugh, it was the worse downs-syndrome-induced-sounding-cackle I have ever heard. I didn’t hear a single noise come out of her mouth the whole night that sounded like a real laugh. It was horrible. I really wanted to strangle her.

Then, we had the two assholes behind us. I say two, because there was a woman and a man, and while the man was the really bad one- the woman was annoying too because she actually takes him into public. Dave and I swear up and down this idiot had to lean forward to the point of practically kissing the backs of our heads to laugh. And when I say laugh, you have no idea. It was the loudest, most forced laugh that can come out of a human being. And he would clap with the laugh. And it wasn’t a *clap, clap*. It was a CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP. This guy had to have hands like dinner plates to make sounds like that. Anytime Lewis or the other guy would say something he liked, the guy would yell “Wooooo-hoooooo!” (Of course as he leaned forward to kiss the back of Dave’s head). He was absolutely obnoxious. At one point, when everyone was quiet, he even farted and then laughed about it. I really wanted to strangle him by the end of the night, too.

But, when the show was over- and an amazing show it was- we went to check into our hotel which was back where the casino was. We thought this building we passed on our way to the casino was our hotel, because the Holiday Inn sign was infront of it, but our hotel was actually on top of this ridge behind these offices- and had an incredible view of Wilkes-Barre. When we got to the hotel, the guy at the front desk moved us to a room in the front of the building on the top floor so we could have the view. It was really awesome. It’s weird, because Wilkes-Barre is this little city in the middle of absolutely nowhere. You just follow this turn around a mountain and BOOM! there it is. We had a king size bed and I think that is the best night’s sleep I have gotten for well over a year. Kudos to you, Holiday Inn Express.

Aerial view of Wilkes-Barre, but what our view from our hotel looked like. But closer.

The next morning we woke up just in time to hit up the hot breakfast bar, and have some yummy french toast sticks and not-so-yummy bacon, and we came back down to Harrisburg. All in all, we had a great weekend and got some much needed alone time. Now it’s back to work, dogs, and wedding planning.

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The most common theme is that I’m totally unprepared when the big day comes. The first dream I had started with me on a schoolbus. My close friends and family were on the bus with me, and we pull into a building that looked a lot like the Harrisburg Forum. Except it was the church we are getting married in. And all the guests were seated and waiting for us. I didn’t have literally anything done, no hair, no makeup… I was struggling to get my dress on and find my shoes and my veil- and the guests started leaving. Suddenly, all my guests started clearing out- one by one. I started freaking out, crying, asking my family to go stop them and no one would listen to me. So I got out of the bus, with my dress halfway on and started yelling at them to go back in. They answered that they had been there for 2 hours and weren’t waiting any more. Dave was just standing there- completely dressed & upset because I wasn’t ready. Then, when I finally was ready, the minister refused to marry us because we didn’t have enough guests for it to matter, so my parents told me we would reschedule until the next weekend.

This past weekend I had another terrible wedding dream. This time, I literally woke up on August 14th & my family told me it was my wedding day. I tried to tell them that no, my wedding was on August 22nd, and they kept saying plans had changed. I tried to tell them I didn’t remember June or July happening, and they said it was because I slept through it. So all my bridesmaids and my Mom and some other friends started buying paper plates and stuff and decorated in super fast speed. When the reception hall was finished, Dave and I realized we forgot to send out invitations, so we started calling all of our friends and relatives so they could come. I kept telling everyone that the vendors all switched the date on us, which is why it was such short notice.

I am not sure how to get out of this funk of wedding nightmares, but it is really starting to bug me. It’s bad enough any other time I have horrible dreams about Dave being a jerk. I maybe need to drink before bed. Haha.

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What I think my nightmare monster looks like.