911. Whats the address of your emergency?

I work for the city. 911 to be exact. It is a challanging job on its best days. Sometimes I go home and cry. Other times, I am the crankiest person alive or the happies person alive. It is rarely rewarding due to lack of follow up. I never know if the person I talked to dies or not, was in a cast, replaced their car, got dentures, went to rehab...etc.

Discussing all things work related is a crime punishable by termination and I suspect tar and feathering. Omitting specific occurances work related and giving only general comments and my opinions, I would like to give some examples of stupidity. (non work related, of course).

If...you leave your keys in the car and the doors unlocked, please dont be surprised if it is stolen when the beautiful aroma of coffee and an annoying alarm clock sounds bright and early. This is a gift, not a theft.

If...you feel the need to run into the child care center to drop off your 4 year old and you purse gets taken from your unlocked and running car, do not wonder how it could happen to you. Instead, consider the child molesters and freaks that hang around day cares and playgrounds.

In addition, if your see three mule deer standing in the median of your non busy road at 2:00 am, or 10 wild turkeys in the middle of a field near your house, it is not an emergency. Wild game was here before you were and they have a right to be there. Animal control will not respond after hours for an animal at large and don't get me started on animal control.

Have a nice day.

A Pig On A Hog

I have a Pig and I have a Hog...and yes, I want to keep them both. Pilny and the wild hair up his ass decided to buy a motorcycle. Bare in mind, he has never really ridden a motorcycle except once. It was a 300cc dirt bike thing and he dumped it at about 300ft. First he wanted to become a cop, now he wants a motorcycle. Mid life you say? No-he is just growing into himself.

His newest purchase is a Honda VXT 1300. Yes, that means large. It is shinny and beautiful and I am proud to post that his practice is turning my pig into a hog pro. Soon, he will be good enough to take even me for a ride. Maybe one day, we will both dress in all black leather and wear skull and cross bone bandanas...Nah.

DON’T GO IN THE BELLY BUTTON OF A FAT GIRL…

Years ago, I had a friend who had an appendectomy. The surgery was laparoscopic and he was, incidentally, slender. One of his abdominal ports was directly into his belly button and he healed well. Thus, I assumed the button was a surgeon’s preferred port location.



Before I go any further let’s take a moment to recognize the geography of a belly button. Some are round and some oblong. Some belly buttons are innies and some are outies. The belly button on my husband is very nice, round and not terribly deep enough to collect any significant amount of lint. Mine, on the other hand is a dark, deep pit that mooshes together when in a non-flattery displacement position, if you will. Essentially, it is a black hole without an ending that is asphyxiated from air. I am sure that if you stuck you finger in my belly button, you literally could touch my intestines and my abdominal cavity may just swallow your entire finger. This description basically goes hand in hand with a larger person. When I sit down, my button disappears and it looks like my skin is smiling. I think it is a Newton Law that the more mass you have, the deeper the potential for finger swallowing. My belly button has potential, I guess.



Six years ago, I had a laparoscopic cholecystectomy which is the surgical removal of the gall bladder. The surgeon did not use my belly button as a port. I have to admit that I was a tad bit offended. Instead, he went in just about an inch above my belly button. I recognized my slightly larger abdominal girth and figured he knew what he was doing. He did; I healed well in record time.



You all know that I recently had a laparoscopic assisted vaginal hysterectomy. My doctor, in all of her infinite wisdom, decided to use my black hole as one of the six lap ports. Since that time my button has experience two minor but irritating infections, itched for the last six weeks, turned a lovely scar purple, and started bleeding the other day for no apparent reason. I figured her office would have me committed for calling in a surgical side effect of a bleeding button. I slathered it with antibiotic sauce after a peroxide drench that created more foam than a rabid dog.



If you find yourself a bit larger than the average 120 pound hottie and facing abdominal surgery, insist your smarty pants doc does not access you button as a surgical port.



Please, send my belly button all your warmest get well wishes. Thanks in advance.

Soap Box, Soap Opera, & sofa sessions

This just in...Shana survived a hysterectomy, pneumonia, and a UTI all at one time. Horray!!! I finally feel recovered but still indecisive on weather I can recommend a hysterectomy or not. Possibly, down the road when I am enjoying amenorrhea, I may be able to conclude if I can honestly recommend the surgery. Or, maybe when my insurance actually pays the $31000.00 hospital bill my outlook will change. And on we go...

I started as a 911 dispatcher for the city although I still work for the jail full time. Steve is nearly on at the Federal Building and still working at the jail. When a co-worker asked Steve how he and I will handle our excessively busy schedules he replied, "We'll write each other."

Speaking of dispatching...while I commend law enforcement officers for their courageable occupation I must take a moment to bash their badge heavy egos. I guess if I wore a big bright star on my chest I would feel overly important too. Although, I have a star necklace and it doesn't really make me better than everyone. I am not sure how the logistics of that work. Maybe it is the talisman that boosts their egos. Overall, the job is fascinatingly fun and something I have wanted to do for a long time now. Why am I still a controller at the jail you may ask? Well, because I just cant bring myself leave a job where I can actually use the term "controller" and mean that I am always in control. I love that. While dispatching pays me significantly more than a measly controller, I cannot leave a job where I am literally always in control. Maybe it is the OCD in me.

Among the may tests that I needed to complete and pass successfully to obtain this dispatching job was a visit with a psychologist. The worst of which testing I was dreading. I knew the only thing he would want to talk about is my deceased child and how that may pose the potential for a nervous breakdown while working dispatch. Right I was. Turns out, a relatively old and somewhat formaldehyde smelling man with too much facial hair met with me and repetitively asked how I felt about things. I fought the urge to answer his questions with answers such as, "how do you think I feel about my sons death?" Alas, I attended on my best behavior, refrained from the infamous McWilliams sarcasm, and fought the urge to answer him with only questions. When, at the end of our 22 minute session, he pointed out that he simply could not make this meeting last an hour and a half, I pondered over weather it was because I was far too crazy for his skill level and he wanted me out of his office ASAP, not crazy at all (which we al know not to be true), or if he was late for a Friday afternoon tee time. We will never know, but I did get the job. I still am not sure what makes the city officials think that a person whom I have never met before can sit with me for 22 minutes and determine if I could handle the stress load of a 911 dispatcher. If you want to know how I handle stress, ask my family, husband, closest friends and current employer. And to think, they paid him $185 an hour for his services. screw dispatch, I am in the wrong profession. Have I said that before? Word of advice, if you ever find yourself on the sofa of a Psychologist for employment purposes, be brief, vague, kind and don't make it a sofa session. The job is yours.

Other than that, day in day out for us. Take care.

P.S. Don't call 911 to get a hold of me to chit chat about what you gave your mom for Mother's Day. I don't want to say the we cant take calls, but they do prefer they are for emergencies. Leave a message on my home phone and I will call you back. :)Chow.

Where in the world is...

You may be asking, "Where the heck have you been?" On the other hand, you may not be. Nevertheless, I decided to squeeze in an quick update.

Steve is still working away and loving his job. He has submitted a series of sample cartoons to our local paper. They may run his cartoons every day omitting Sunday, of course, for one month to evaluate the public response. Should the public like his work, they may potentially offer him a one year contract where he would make nearly nothing but at least gain exposure. If he gets in, I will email all of you the email address to the response blog so you may tell the paper how much you enjoy Steve's cartoons and how badly you want to see him stay!!!

I now work at the Natrona County Detention Center as a controller. Yup, out with health care and in with law enforcement. Steve and I enjoy working at the same place although we are not exactly on the same shift. We work the same three days a week, though so it works out quite well. When we come home at and discuss our day, we are talking about the same stupid jailbirds proving that familiarity is very conducive to attentiveness. So far, I really enjoy the control room and it has been a nice and refreshing break from internal medicine.

On the less lighter side, I am scheduled for surgery on March 25th. I am having a laparoscopic hysterectomy and it will be inpatient. My mother has graciously offered to come to Wyoming to help me for a couple of weeks and Steve and I are not only grateful but also looking forward to her company. Wish me luck.

The girls (all three), mom and pap and Fry are coming over for spring break. We are planning a trip to Gravity Hill and possibly Natural Bridge. I am extremely excited to see them and hoping that my surgical recovery does not interfere with our visit. Thanks goodness for the Wii, portable DVD players and Benadryl. Just kidding...or am I?

Consider yourself updated. :)

I've been tagged

Ok, so I have been tagged. At least it was not with spray paint or permeninant sharpie. Here goes.

A: The rules of the game are posted at the beginning.

B: Each player answers the questions about themselves.

C: At the end of the post, the player then tags 5 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

1-Husband's NAME? Steve Pilny, AKA: Check, Pil, Babe, Skip Steve
2-HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED? 9 years, wow!
3-HOW LONG DID YOU DATE? 1 year long distance. Technically, it turns out to be 6 dates total.
4-HOW OLD IS HE? 42.5 years old. Good Lord.
5-WHO EATS MORE? Is it not obvious?
6-WHO SAID I LOVE YOU FIRST? I don't think I said it until our third year of marriage.
7- WHO IS SMARTER? Please...must I say? Is this too, not obvious?
8-WHO HAS A WORSE TEMPER? Again, please. I do hands down.
9- WHO DOES THE LAUNDRY? Both
10-WHO DOES THE DISHES? Both
11-WHO SLEEPS ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE BED? He does.
12- WHO PAYS THE BILLS? Depends who is on night shift.
13- WHO COOKS? Me. He cannot boil water and would starve unless it were acceptable to eat raw meat.
14- WHO DRIVES WHEN YOU'RE TOGETHER? I ALWAYS DRIVE without acception.If he drives, it is the fastest way to start a fight.
15- WHO IS MORE STUBBORN? Me, of course...Like a dirty old mule.
16- WHOSE PARENTS DO YOU SEE MORE? Mine. There is a reason why, believe me.
17- WHO PROPOSED? Pilny did, but the details are private.
18-WHO HAS MORE FRIENDS? Pilny, there is nobody he dislikes whereas I dislike nearly everybody outside my little circle.
19- WHO HAS MORE SIBLINGS? He does by one.
20- WHO WEARS THE PANTS IN THE RELATIONSHIP? We both wear pants everyday. Underwear too.

I am tagging Mom, Fred, and Mish. I can only think of three. Well, two and a half.
(Mish, Please start a blog. I could use some pics of the trio.)

Deer nuts, Beer nuts, and Balls

Mish fry called the other day. Yes, she is the sister who paid her 5 year old a dollar to kill a spider in the bath tub as outlined on a previous blog entry. She was explaining to me the sexist ways of the Idahoans with regards to the Hooters crave and how men go there simply and solely because they, "like the wings." She went on to say how woman are quite misrepresented or unrepresented for that matter. She elaborated on how all media things are geared toward the "man" and she was fairly disgruntled about this. Beer commercials, for example are geared towrd men as well as Victoria Secrets, who really have no secrets as they reveal mostly all of everything now days not to mention cheerleaders at football games. I stand with her on this perception of gender in America. In fact, the only time women are represented is in tampon commercials and in a negative fashion. We are always cranky and bloated and needing some sort of over the counter diuretic pill to calm our monthly nature malfunction. Not good representation by any means.

Her suggestion, if followed, I think, could united woman as they take a stand and join the cliche' response of, "we only go for the wings." She thinks a place should be made called Balls and be famous for their nuts. We could also have a house called the Blue Banana. OK, that one was mine but it is a smashing idea never the less. We can say that we go for the protein value of legumes such as peanuts. We could employ various Chippendale dancers and assorted local fireman to serve the nuts. They could come roasted and BBQ'd and in various butters spreadable on nearly...anything. Excuse me for a moment...

Anyway, Mish Fry, I agree, we need better representation and I think no better way than a nut house. Way to go baby sister, you're brilliant.