Since it’s been a little tense around these parts lately with TVMan being out of commision, I’d just like to start this MMP and share some things that make me smile.
The Carousel of Progress! Everybody, sing with me! There’s a great big beautiful tomorrow shining at the end of every day…
So, those are just a few for now. What makes you smile?
Can’t check Youtube out right now at work (that is, I can, but I just can’t justify the time with several tight schedules…) I’ll look at them later.
Hope TVMan keeps feeling better and better with every passing hour!
As for what makes me smile – well, one of the things that makes me smile is a new MMP on Monday morning 
Dammit I thought I was going to be first! : shakes fist :
What makes me smile? Hubby telling me I am still sexy when I am hacking up a lung and have lots of snot. He however is several thousand miles away so he is safe from the lergy…
Yes folks it appears I have Swine Flu…urgh. Well at least NHS direct tells me I have swine flu I belive it is a really bad cold (I do not get flu dammit!) and my company when I called in this morning went into full on panic mode when I called to cancel my travel plans for today “Unclean Unclean!” was the shout.
I do however fell like absolute shit and running quite a high fever although I am still ambulatory…I will take care of some easy stuff for work then take a nap methinks
Somebody convince me to read a PoliSci book although it’s a holiday and the sun has taken the day off, please.
Things that make me smile?
Little kids.
Random acts of kindness and politeness.
Songs and stories which read very differently if you’re a kid or an adult, from Hanna Barbera’s cartoons to Little Boxes.
Things that make me smile?
Emails from friends
sitting by the ocean
Thursday nights
watching my kids enjoy something they love
watching my kids have fun together
Right now? The idea of sleep.
Coming home to be with my boyfriend.
Seriously, I took this job because I thought I could do cool stuff and it turns out it consists mostly of having to deal with annoying people. Grumble. The only good thing about it is that I appreciate my weekends more. :smack:
My students make me smile too, although they also make me want to bang my head against a wall.
What makes me smile?
My kids (and cute other kids–but they must be cute and well behaved. Yes, I am crotchey like that)
Sunshine on my shoulders (not the song, but the thing itself. It’s not a horrible song, though…)
The absurdities of human nature.
I don’t know–who can think this early in the morning?
Things that make me smile?
My dogs roughhousing.
People who tell me they enjoy my food.
My yard when we’ve worked hard to get it purtied up.
Good OP, Pie! I can’t see the youtube videos until I get home, though.
Good Mornin’ Y’all! Up and caffienated. Beast stew is simmerin’ in the slow cooker and chicken boobs have been boiled up and coolin’ to be cut into chunks for chicken noodle soup. Yeah, I live it up on my days off! 
Nice OP CutiePie!
Stuff like the smell of stew and soup simmerin’ away makes me happy. So I’m makin’ my own happy today.
Also, from time to time it makes me happy to bust out in a verse or two of Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy. Everybody sing!
ETA: Butt-pinch for BBBobbio and {{{Deb}}}.
Blurf.
Things to make me smile:
Beer o’clock.
One of my dogs doing something stoooooopid.
one of those extremely rare moments that I can do something for myself (going fishing, working on my model trains, etc.)
A good joke.
A bad pun.
I’ll think of more. Off to write my tale.
What makes me smile?
My daughter insisting on a good night kiss, even at 5:45 am because she woke up and is a bit confused.
My son trying to fix things; he is all of two years old.
Good zits that pop well.
Ooooo, great OP idea, pie!
What makes me smile? Mr. Anachi ALWAYS doing things to make me happy.
Like rebo and bobbio, the antics of my dogs. And any puppy, for that matter.
My daughter taking the time to call me every day.
My son sending me pictures of his silly weimeraners.
Oh, and the MMP always being around new and improved each week.
Tupug
Morning, mumpers!
What makes me smile? Today, it’s the fun of being a tourist! We’re having a great time playing tourist in Noo Yawk, we’ve been doing the sights and must have walked miles every day - 'im indoors has been indulging his desires for junk food so I don’t think I’ve had a proper meal in the last few days. Oh well, there goes the diet.
And I have to say that I’m appalled, I tell you, appalled! We keep finding bars that sell imported draught ale from Britain…not necessarily a bad thing, but for the love of all that’s hoppy, why does it have to be Bass? Honestly, that stuff’s akin to cat’s pee and of all the great ales we brew in Britain, why could you not choose one that doesn’t taste like something you dredged out of the local canal?
Bah! Am off to traipse round Greenwich Village now and see if I can find a decent drink over there. Coffee again, I think…
Home on Wednesday, see you then!
mmmmmmmmms, hope you feel better soon, it’s miserable when you’re feeling crappy but at least the hubby has the good sense to be sympathetic.
Something else to make me smile, telling a good yarn.
It was another long weekend, with little slothage for me. Saturday was the annual Mayberry VFD Shrimp Feast, our annual fundraiser. It’s a big outdoor party with all you can eat shrimp, fried fish and the usual side dishes, and lots of beer. Imagine 500 sloshed rednecks whooping it up on a softball field. It’s generally a good time, but if I hear ‘Soljah Boy’ one more time, somebody is going to be beaten severely.
We were about an hour into serving dinners when there was a combined fire and rescue page for a motorcycle accident in Hooterville’s district. Great. The rescue squad had a very rough time scheduling crews for the day, and there was not even a first run ambulance to go. One member answered right away, and went for the truck. Then they started paging for an intermediate. Well, most of them were at our function eating seafood and getting gassed. By the fourth page, I went to the chief, said I was the only one available, and got his permission to go. Fortunately, the softball field was very close to the rescue station, and I started walking there while the ambulance was coming to me.
The patient was part of a group that was riding one of the rougher roads in the county. He rear-ended one of his companions, and was launched over his handlebars onto the pavement, hitting his helmeted head and knocking himself out. He also has some pretty impressive road rash. We had him flown to Norfolk because of head impact; the whole call was pretty routine for a wreck. I got back to the Shrimp Feast with about a half hour to go in dinner service, and found out we ran out of shrimp, which was a first.
I slept as late as I could Sunday, avoiding both bona fide church and services at St. Bluegill’s, but the dogs conspired to get me up anyway. I went to the station late morning to do my truck inspections, and managed not to tear off any equipment doors this time.
When I got home, I had a short window of naptime opportunity before I had to go help tear down Shrimp Feast. The rescue squad was busy, of course… I had just drifted away to dreamland when the page happened; an 85 year old woman at the Mayberry [del]Warehouse for the Elderly and Chronically Ill[/del] Nursing Home having chest pain and difficulty breathing. Wunnerful. A heart attack in progress, and the scheduled crew is busy. I got up and donned my rescue duds.
VWife: “Are YOU going?” Extreme annoyance was in her voice.
“Yes”, I replied, in a ‘don’t-fuck-with-me’ tone. :rolleyes:
She rambled on in her usual manner about me not getting her household projects done, yada yada yada. Bite me.
Then I sat in the ambulance at the station for a half hour waiting for a partner. Harrumph. The dispatcher kept paging, and I started going through the list looking for someone close to the station or the nursing home to run with me. After about the fifth call, I struck pay dirt with BrassyDeb, one of my favorite running partners.
We got to the scene, and the patient was sitting on the edge of her bed, and having difficulty breathing. This was no little old lady either; she was no older than 45. :dubious: When you could understand her through her nearly incoherent mumbling, she admitted to no chest pain. Most of the time she was barely conscious. As is standard for the place, she wasn’t on oxygen. :smack:
Her history included cardiomyopathy, congestive heart failure, and a long list of other things that would interfere with respiration and oxygen transport in her blood, so that was how we began to handle her. Mistake, and remember that little detail.
We took her to the unit and got her settled. Vitals were odd for heart and lung problems. Her BP was very low, her oxygen saturation was great; despite the high flow oxygen, she did not come around to lucidity. :dubious: Her heart rhythm looked OK to me, but it wasn’t beating very strongly. I tried twice to get an IV going, but her veins had collapsed. I told Deb to go, and don’t watch the scenery.
When we have a nursing home transfer, we get a big stack of paperwork to take to the hospital. I went through it to fill out the report worksheet. Her medical history was very long, and I saw ‘substance abuse’ and 'noncompliance mentioned several times. That started my little mind working, because it was bugging me that she was not acting like a heart patient.
I checked the time, and it was time to do vitals again. I glanced at the PulseOx to check her blood oxygen, and it read 84%. :eek: A normal saturation is 95-99%, and we tend to get uptight when they read in the low 90s. A prolonged reading below 80% will cause brain damage. Mind you, she’s already getting as much pure oxygen as she can get, unassisted.
“SONOFABITCH! Deb, get me a paramedic! She’s starting to crash, and I’m gonna bag her!” I went for a bag valve mask, hooked it up to the oxygen, and started assisting her respiration.
We picked up the Suffolk paramedic a few minutes later. I briefed him on what I did, her vitals, and I mentioned the inkling that was forming about this being a substance issue and not cardiopulmonary. Then I said, “This is Willadene…”
“Willadene? Willadene! This is Roy! I didn’t recognize you!” Strange way to introduce yourself to a patient, I thought.
“Where did you pick her up?” I told him the nursing home.
“Oh, I know her well. She goes way beyond frequent flyer with us. Willadene, did you take anything?”
::mumble mumble mumble:
“What was that?”
:barely coherent: “Pain pills.”
Roy turned to me and said she was a notorious addict, and was hauled in by Suffolk to be treated for overdoses on a very frequent and regular basis. He got an order to administer Narcan to counter the pain meds, and he managed an IV, grumbling about the rough stick she was. We arrived at the hospital before the Narcan went in.
We wheeled her in to the ER, to nearly every one shouting “Willadene!” I swear it was like Norm walking in to Cheers. When we transferred her to the hospital bed, that hard fought IV was ripped right out of her hand.
The cavalry arrived. When I saw her last, the ER attending physician was putting an IV into her jugular vein (very painful), Narcan was drawn up to go in, and they were tying her down so when her high ended, she couldn’t go anywhere
After we left, I called the charge nurse at the nursing home and told her about Willadene having an OD, not a heart attack. They had no clue, but they also are quite clueless on a regular basis. Apparently, she was transferred to Mayberry from Suffolk in an attempt to cut her off from her supply, and it didn’t work.
I deserve about half of a head smack for missing the OD symptoms for so long, but I think I did well in reacting to what did happen. Had I caught the overdose symptoms, I could have done the Narcan myself, but doing it solo is dangerous, and Willadene has a reputation got reacting violently.
It also legitimately got me out of cleaning up Shrimp Feast … 
Look! BooFae is postin’ on teh internets from Amurrica!
I gots beast stew slow cookin’ away and chicken ‘n noodle soup simmerin’ away in the soup pot. Da cave smells soooooooooo good!
OOH! And I have been told, told mind you that I am bein’ taken to the good Eyetalian place for dindin tonight. I was in the midst of declinin’ the invite bein’ I had intended to serve beast stew and cornbread tonight, when I was interrupted by a big bad bear voice that said…
“I said I’m takin’ you out for supper tonight! Understood?”
To which I replied,
“Ummmmm… ok… Yes Sir!”
I love it when he gets all butch on me.
Have you tasted any of the biggest-selling Amurkin “beers”?
This weekend made me smile. We were at this colonial festival (Penns Colony) and the weekend started with the universe falling to pieces. Slowly and surely though, everyone took a step back and started cooperating with each other and the results were a lot of fun; for guests and participants alike. Things like that, sour turning sweet, make me smile and grin like an idiot.
Good cake.
Baby giggles.
A beautiful sunrise.
Finding cool stuff yardsaling.
Right. Nat’s been up screaming an average of three hours every night for a week. We’re all sort of going grey and transparent. Aaagh. His ankle is better, but his sleep is gradually getting worse. If I don’t post tomorrow, I died of exhaustion.
On a Monday morning, not much makes me smile but the thought of it being Friday in 4 more days.
But… My Pumpkin Spice Latte was good.
Sitting up late with the Kid watching awful TV last night.
Getting my morning forehead bath from Cuervo.