this morning i put brek's hair into a ponytail. i'm pretty proud i'm able to do this, it's a new skill that i've developed in recent years. here's how our conversation went:
me: here honey, let me put your hair back so it's out of your face...
brek: ok, daddy
me: there you go, all finished. oh my! you look so nice! what do you say? thanks, daddy, my hair looks so pretty...
brek: mmmm, i'll have to see a mirror, first.
ouch.
Feb 27, 2008
Feb 15, 2008
the plasma train
i wrote a few weeks ago about my resume of jobs i've had in the past, completely forgetting the very best one. as i've thought about this season of my life i have to laugh, because it truly was the epitome of my last year of college. here was the scenario:
i proposed to my special little friend in september of that year, having paid for a ring that left me with nothing in the bank. this wasn't unusual, but at the time i felt somewhat pressured to have a little bit of money to start married life together and actually have a honeymoon. the beginning of my senior year i was a crossing guard, which i described in an earlier post. but realizing that i wasn't making much money i quit my job, hung up the orange vest in hopes that i could find something more profitable after Christmas break. unfortunately i had little luck and couldn't find anything to replace my beloved crossing post, which was now covered by a friend of mine. so in order to make a buck here and there i proudly joined the plasma train. twice a week i would make the trek to downtown oklahoma city and meet up with my homeless friends at the plasma bank. if you've never donated plasma, you're truly never lived. here's what happens:
you arrive and wait for about 20 minutes for your turn to get screened. each time, no matter how many times you've been there they have to ask you a bunch of ungodly questions about your lifestyle and things you may have done to taint the quality of your blood. the people have the script memorized, which makes it even more uncomfortable. you're sitting there being asked if you've ever taken this or that drug, been to this or that country and taken drugs, or done things that i don't really feel merit description here in this blog. you can use your imagination. so you sit there feeling embarrassed that they even asked you such a question, and when you're done with the interrogation you move on to another waiting room for another 20 minutes. from here you're given a packet of materials you'll need to take into the room where the process of giving plasma begins. you're hooked up to a machine and poked by a needle the size of a small drinking straw. over time you begin to pray to get the college intern that actually can find a vein on the first try and not the guy who's being trained. when you're all set up you have to pump your fist in cycles for about 45 minutes, depending on how much water you drank that day. i started to time myself to see how fast i could do it. it's unbelievable how much blood they take out of you. the coolest part comes when they hook up a big bag of cold saline that cycles back into your arm to replace the platelets they took from your blood. the craziest part is how cold the saline is when it goes back into your arm. the whole thing is just crazy. you just sit there and watch the movie that happens to be playing. (i believe i've seen the movie barber shop at least 8 times). at the end, you're given a band-aid and told not to get up too fast. on your way out you collect your $20 and leave feeling like you've done a good deed. you're allowed to do it twice each week, and twice a week i did. the first time you go it's $20, and the second you get $25. so it pays to twice. it's funny because they put a drop of polish on a specific finger and check it under a black light each time to make sure you're not donating at other agencies, too. it's quite a system.
so this was my routine twice a week. i lost a good bit of weight and was tired all the time, but at least i was making some money. sherry tried to get me to stop, she didn't like that i was always sick and slept through chapel. i eventually painted a few houses on the side, but considered my employment at the plasma bank my first job. it was fun, a very unique time and i look fondly back on it. i met a lot of really cool people and made some great memories.
i think everyone should have the experience of selling their plasma. it truly is the greatest job of all. or at least for $45 a week.
i proposed to my special little friend in september of that year, having paid for a ring that left me with nothing in the bank. this wasn't unusual, but at the time i felt somewhat pressured to have a little bit of money to start married life together and actually have a honeymoon. the beginning of my senior year i was a crossing guard, which i described in an earlier post. but realizing that i wasn't making much money i quit my job, hung up the orange vest in hopes that i could find something more profitable after Christmas break. unfortunately i had little luck and couldn't find anything to replace my beloved crossing post, which was now covered by a friend of mine. so in order to make a buck here and there i proudly joined the plasma train. twice a week i would make the trek to downtown oklahoma city and meet up with my homeless friends at the plasma bank. if you've never donated plasma, you're truly never lived. here's what happens:
you arrive and wait for about 20 minutes for your turn to get screened. each time, no matter how many times you've been there they have to ask you a bunch of ungodly questions about your lifestyle and things you may have done to taint the quality of your blood. the people have the script memorized, which makes it even more uncomfortable. you're sitting there being asked if you've ever taken this or that drug, been to this or that country and taken drugs, or done things that i don't really feel merit description here in this blog. you can use your imagination. so you sit there feeling embarrassed that they even asked you such a question, and when you're done with the interrogation you move on to another waiting room for another 20 minutes. from here you're given a packet of materials you'll need to take into the room where the process of giving plasma begins. you're hooked up to a machine and poked by a needle the size of a small drinking straw. over time you begin to pray to get the college intern that actually can find a vein on the first try and not the guy who's being trained. when you're all set up you have to pump your fist in cycles for about 45 minutes, depending on how much water you drank that day. i started to time myself to see how fast i could do it. it's unbelievable how much blood they take out of you. the coolest part comes when they hook up a big bag of cold saline that cycles back into your arm to replace the platelets they took from your blood. the craziest part is how cold the saline is when it goes back into your arm. the whole thing is just crazy. you just sit there and watch the movie that happens to be playing. (i believe i've seen the movie barber shop at least 8 times). at the end, you're given a band-aid and told not to get up too fast. on your way out you collect your $20 and leave feeling like you've done a good deed. you're allowed to do it twice each week, and twice a week i did. the first time you go it's $20, and the second you get $25. so it pays to twice. it's funny because they put a drop of polish on a specific finger and check it under a black light each time to make sure you're not donating at other agencies, too. it's quite a system.
so this was my routine twice a week. i lost a good bit of weight and was tired all the time, but at least i was making some money. sherry tried to get me to stop, she didn't like that i was always sick and slept through chapel. i eventually painted a few houses on the side, but considered my employment at the plasma bank my first job. it was fun, a very unique time and i look fondly back on it. i met a lot of really cool people and made some great memories.
i think everyone should have the experience of selling their plasma. it truly is the greatest job of all. or at least for $45 a week.
Feb 12, 2008
better early than never
for some reason i panicked yesterday afternoon right before work ended. i looked at a calendar and realized that valentine's day is upon us. i've bombed in years past so this time i wanted to be sure to get to the flower place before 5:30 in the aftenoon on valentines day as to avoid finding the remnant of what was once a great selection. so on my way home i stopped off for some roses and was pleased to see how many were still there. i was walking tall, heading home with a dozen roses for my little wife, a day early for valentines. she'd never expect it.
so as i walk in the door bearing my offering of love for my wife she looks surprised and asks why the flowers? uh... valentines day, duh. she then lovingly informs me that valentines day is thursday, not tuesday. who knew? i'm an idiot.
i once mailed my sister a birthday card a month early, forgetting she was born in october and not september.
as many things as we're late for on a day to day basis, i'm glad i have been given the talent of early gifting.
so as i walk in the door bearing my offering of love for my wife she looks surprised and asks why the flowers? uh... valentines day, duh. she then lovingly informs me that valentines day is thursday, not tuesday. who knew? i'm an idiot.
i once mailed my sister a birthday card a month early, forgetting she was born in october and not september.
as many things as we're late for on a day to day basis, i'm glad i have been given the talent of early gifting.
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