Light Reading

I work with infants. Those already born. Few of the parents of these infants are looking to immediately get pregnant (as they have an infant already). Yet, for some reason I found this magazine in the drawer at work:
I couldn't help myself. I mean, with a headline like "The best places to make a baby", how could I resist. It turns out this entire magazine is about how to get pregnant, from romantic getaways to fertility-producing foods. Yes, the cover does boast of a story titled: Foods for Super Sperm. And, luckily, inside is a chance to win one of these:
Yes, kids, this is a fertility watch. Imagine how wonderful it would be to simply look at your wrist to see if you are fertile. Can't you just write this in your day planner. Come on really. Imagine you are out with friends and one asks you the time, and then glances at your watch. Instead of the time, they get to find out if you are fertile and what day of your cycle you are on. That seems fun, and not at all awkward.
This magazine made me really happy, not so much that it existed, but that it was at my work. I am pretty sure that the infants are not looking to get pregnant. If anything, I think they just want back in their mom's belly.
If anybody is still looking, I want the watch for Christmas.

Good things

Wow, this story made me cry.

Click here to watch

Have I mentioned that I really want to adopt, and probably want to do foster care.

Green scrubs of shame

Yesterday at work I went in to calm a crying child down. As I reached to lift the baby I felt my arm get wet. Not a good sign. Another nurse came into the room to see if she could help and I just stood their frozen, afraid to look at what could possibly be on my arm. So I lifted my arm to show her, and it turns out I got poop all over my arm. How the poop got on the outer edge of the crib is a mystery to all. Nevertheless, I was covered with stinky poop. We laughed really hard for a while then I left the crying baby to the other nurse and called to have security meet me so I could get new scrubs out of the storage room. It turns out that the only scrubs available were XL or XXXL. Now, neither of those are my size, nor near my size. Luckily I found a M top, and then just grabbed the XL bottoms. I asked the security guy if there were any other scrubs anywhere and he said no. Then I asked if there were any in the OR. He said their probably were but didn't seem too interested in going with me to look. So, I took what I could get and went back upstairs to change. I looked something like this:

Except the scrubs were longer and the top fit, and I didn't have the ugly hat, and the scrubs were green not bluish, and I wasn't in Africa. Weirdly, I was wearing the same shoes. Okay, so it wasn't much like these pictures, but this was the best I could do.
Everyone at work laughed when they saw me for the rest of the night because you only wear the green scrubs of shame if a baby has produced something that has made a mess on you, and you were not smart enough to wear a gown for protection against possible messiness. I always laugh at the other people, so turn-about is fair play.
Oh, and I got to wear the green scrubs of shame home on TRAX. And they were too long and dragged on the ground and got wet. However, now I have some really comfortable huge pajamas. Lucky me.

I have found a man who has agreed to marry you...

My dad announced last night that he has found my husband. Lucky me. Apparently his best friend's son is recently single. His future lawyer girlfriend dumped him to go to law school. That stinks. However, now it is perfect because we are both single. Woo hoo. I have met him on several occasions. We went to BYU together. He is attractive, but I am not sure that we actually have anything in common. But, his dad and my dad want us to get married because then the Becks and the Johnsons will finally co-mingle on a whole other level.
In the immortal words of J Lo: A man of my very own! You must bring me to him at once.

I believe we are now to 3 eligible bachelor's on my dad's list for me. Yip yip.

Happy days are here again

For about the last month or so (minus one day) I have been really happy again. My usual kind of happy. It is great. My happiness has increased even more in the last 2 weeks. People at work are noticing that I am back to my old self. I no longer have a heaviness about me (not talking about my weight, that is a whole different subject). It feels so good. However, my gray days do help me appreciate the good days so much more. I guess that is the concept that the bitter makes the sweet taste even sweeter. I have had enough bitter for a while, bring on the sweet!
So, an apology to all of you who had to deal with the less-happy version of myself. I am back in full force, watch out.

Oh, and a couple days ago on TRAX this lady got on who was very very drunk. She could hardly walk and smelled very strongly of alcohol. But the amusing part was that she sat right next to a girl who was reading a book (a TRAX faux-pas if there are other seats available without neighbors). She talked to the girl for several minutes (until she got of the train). The girl even said, "I am reading my book, I would rather not talk" or something to that effect. And the girl changed seats. That changed nothing. She was a very persistent drunk conversationalist. It brought a smile to my face.
At work I was telling my coworkers about my amusing train ride and then we all started talking about what kind of drunks we would be. It was determined that I would be a funny drunk. I would probably have a ton of energy and would laugh a lot. It would be annoying to other people, I am pretty sure.
On the TRAX ride home a guy stared at me the entire time. So, to make things even more uncomfortable I stared back. It was awesome.