5 Good Things: Tuesday.

It’s a little slow-going for me, this week, which is a problem because it’s also VERY busy at my job. So here they are:

Five Good Things

1. Arlen Specter is becoming a Democrat.

2. Tonight is Girls’ Night with Cor, Jen, and Becca

3. Tay Hanson made it to Perez.

4. Third Eye Blind’s new album will be out mid-summer. Maybe in June!!

5. I received March, April, and May’s National Geographic magazines in the mail yesterday. I didn’t even realize I hadn’t gotten them!

What is creepy:

zombie spiders.

Steak ums.

I love steak ums, and last night I needed a quick dinner for Cor, Jeff, and I to eat between packing up Cor’s life. I don’t buy the packaged ones, I just make them as follows.

You need:

1 package thin steak (usually like 1.5 lbs. This is enough for 3-4 people, or roughly 2 women and 2 large hungry men)

1 package mushrooms (white are good)

1 onion (yellow or red or white)

some cheese (any kind)

1 french baguette

Saute the onion for about 2 minutes, then add mushrooms, continue to saute.

Cook the steak in a pan with some oil or Pam, add the cheese.

Cut the bread. Stick a piece of steak (or two!) on a section of bread, add sauteed mushrooms and onions. Maybe add some ketchup, and devour.

(We made smashed potatoes and green beans to go with it. Yum!)

The School Nurse

school-nurse-picture

I don’t know if you knew this, but when I was a kid I went to the nurse. A lot.

In kindergarten, when I was in the nurse’s office, getting my temperature read, I could not stop coughing!! I tried and tried but couldn’t. I tried to hold it, and finally I let out a BIG COUGH. And spit out the thermometer. On the floor. And it broke into a million pieces, mercury and all.

In first grade, I wanted to go to the nurse because I didn’t feel good. Mrs. P wouldn’t let me go. Then, my friend Stephanie really needed to go to the nurse, so my teacher’s assistant asked me to bring her. Well, Mrs. P saw us on the way, and thought I was trying to sneak out to the nurse! I got in trouble.

In second grade, my friend Ana had a tick in her afro. True story. I had to hold her hand at the nurse, while our nurse combed through to find it, which she did. 45 minutes later.

In fourth grade, I went to the nurse because I was feeling sick. I didn’t have a fever, so she sent me back to class. I threw up all over Claudia’s chair, during a guest speaker presentation. I went home, and was “the new kid who threw up in class” for about a year.

In fifth grade, I went to the nurse just about every day because I was growing out my bangs. My mom would throw my bang-hair up in a pony tail at the front of my head, and it would inevitable be too tight. I would have headaches.

In middle school, I would try to use the nurse’s office to get out of swimming.

In high school, I didn’t have a nurse’s office, so instead I spent a lot of time in the trainer’s office icing my feet, which lack arches.

The first week of college, I had to go to the health office because I had fungus on my ear. It was big and popped on the boat cruise.

My second year, I went to the health office, and they told me I was fine. I ended up in the ER on Halloween with a pinched nerve.

My senior year, I contracted mono, and had a conversation with the nurse practitioner that went like this:

“I have mono.”

“You don’t have a fever.”

“I know, but I have mono.”

“You don’t have swollen lymph nodes. You have no signs of mono.”

“I know, but I have mono.”

“Umm…”

“Please, just take my blood and see if it’s mono.”

—Next day—

“Well, Jennie, how do you feel?”

“Terrible.”

“Well, you should. You have mono.”

And today, at school, I had to go to the school nurse. My co-worker suggested I go, and away I went for my heartburn. It was my third trip in two days for Tums, and I hadn’t been caught by the actual nurse, yet. But today, she was there. She told me I should drink chamomile tea, take some tums, add some milk to my coffee (I ran out two days ago), and maybe work on paying attention to what I am eating. In addition, I probably should take some kind of herbal supplement.

She also told me something that I am enthralled to learn!!

She has a theory. I told her I was always sick. And she said:

“Do you happen to bite your nails?”

“Why, yes, I do.”

“Do you wipe your nose a lot?”

“Well yes. In fact, I have a line on my nose because I do it so much.”

“I have that line too! I never meet people with those lines.”

“Well I do.”

“Well, my husband always touches his nose, and always bites his nails, and he is ALWAYS sick.”

And thus begins Operation: No Nail Biting

We’ll see how we go.