They Oughta be in Jail, Part II

This sounds about right:

Patients seeking an appointment with a dermatologist to ask about a potentially cancerous mole have to wait substantially longer than those seeking Botox for wrinkles, a study published online yesterday by The Journal of the American Academy of Dermatology said.

Seriously. Freakin' criminals.

The Great Minnesota Pig Pile

It was a crowded day at the Fair on Friday, but I managed to hit the high points, like the Creative Arts building (i.e. all the sewing, quilts, knitting, other needle arts, baked and canned goods -- basically the home ec crowd). The traditional and sentimental are favored by fair judges: oil paintings of firefighters labeled "The Brave and Unappreciated," the quilt in a traditional Scandanavian pattern, the crop art of a girl hugging her 4-H calf. So I'm always pleased when the entries get a little weird:

Dig that hem:

There's a red ribbon on that bad boy! I think that's a second tier award in MN State Fair parlance. (We did things a little differently in the S.D.)

I was also digging on this awesome knit (crocheted?) hat, complete with pearly ornaments:

That would look hot on my friend Betsy. I had the requisite fried cheese:

and then moved on to the Fine Arts Building, where the populace was all about the serious art:

Bring the art to the people, man! They can't get enough. But I'm biased: I buy all my art at the Fair. Which brings me, inevitably, to the crop art. Not the most exciting showing this year-- there was a large memorial to Lillian Colton and her work, though -- but I did enjoy this bit of oddness:

This one got the main prize and place of honor and deservedly so, I think.

And check out Dolly's hair!:

I made a quick stop at the dairy barn on my way out but only one of the butter heads had been carved:

For those of you unaware of our tribal customs, the finalists in the Princess Kay of the Milky Way pageant (a.k.a. the dairy queen contest) each get their heads carved in 60 pounds of butter while the populace watches entranced. The ladies also get to take their butter busts home and, presumably, have a huge corn-on-the-cob feed at which their nearest and dearest roll hot cobs over their heads. Good times!

Angry Letters to Medical Administrators

I couldn't decide if I should post this, but ultimately decided that it was OK to let friends know that I get scared. This is about a visit to the doctor for a biopsy. The test came out clean. All is well. Warning to boys: Icky girl stuff to follow.


Dear Clinic Administrator,

I received your letter asking me to fill out the survey about my visit. However, the online survey wouldn’t accept my answer to the question about what could have improved my visit. Here it is:

I shouldn’t have had to wait for two weeks to get an appointment for a BIOPSY! That is a scary test to have to contemplate for 16 days. I realize this is routine stuff for medical staff, but it made me very anxious. In fact, it eventually caused an anxiety attack, complete with chest pains.

When my primary doctor called to tell me that I had an abnormal PAP smear, why did she make sure I knew the name of the test I needed so I could tell the person making the appointment? Why couldn’t she just order the test—as she would have for lab tests—so there was no possibility of me ending up with the wrong procedure? I saw a specialist in the same clinic!

The nurse that checked me in, weighed me, and so on should not have suggested that the test I was there to get was not the one that would normally be given to people who have an abnormal PAP smear. See anxiety about correct test above.

Though the person scheduling my test did not mention it, it occurred to me that it might matter that I would have my period on the test day. I called the nurse line and asked about it. She said it was fine and might actually be preferable. That was incorrect. When I came in for the test, the doctor said it was not optimal to have my period and there was a possibility that the rather painful test would have to be performed again, if the first one didn’t yield the necessary sample.

Why did I have to ask the question about my period? Why did the scheduler not know to ask? And further, why wasn’t I offered additional information about the test, what it entails, and what the results of my PAP smear meant?

The doctor seemed surprised and taken aback that I was upset. But I had been waiting so long! And maybe now I’d have to wait longer if the test didn’t come out right! Also, does no one you know get scared at the thought of a BIOPSY?

I had to wait another week to get the results of the test – why does it take so long? I spent almost an entire month worrying about this.

And while I have your attention: When I came in for my PAP smear, I was kept waiting in a gown for at least 30 minutes in an exam room that must have been colder than 60 degrees. Freezing!

Frankly, my terror at possibly having a serious disease was compounded by the idea of having to regularly interact with medical professionals who couldn’t care less about my state of mind or how it might be affecting my health. Glad to have dodged that bullet!

Regards,

Sassmaster

Girl!

I don't have much use for the TV show Scrubs, but I lurve that song "Poison" by Bell Biv Devoe. And Donald Faison, who plays Turk, is pretty cool. So this is a little bit of alright:

Fat and Not Crazy

Here's the excuse du jour for indulging in a can of Pringles:

Early Weight Loss in Women Linked to Dementia

Serial Polygamy

The winning question on 1 vs. 100 tonight pitted Larry King with Henry VIII: Who had more wives. Turns out it's LK with 7. Henry only pledged his troth 6 times.

It's biographical details like these that make me think I'm not moving fast enough. Shouldn't I have burned through 2 or 3 marriages by now? I guess it'd be easier to meet people if I was on television or, you know, a monarch.

Killer Bags

Plastic bags are a freaking scourge, y'all. Read the Salon article if you don't believe me.

I'm called to action: I'll make/find/buy a fabric shopping bag and deliver it free to anyone who asks for one in the comments.

Via Yummy Turtle

Get Ron Popeil on the Phone

Product idea: For all those people who are embarrassed to wear hearing aids, they should just build one into those cell phone ear pieces. No one would know the difference.



I kind of think those things are embarrassing, but to each his own.

Your Paws are Getting Heavy

Friends A. and C. in California can hypnotize their bunny Emily:



See if you can make her cluck like a chicken!

Never Meanin' No Harm

Look, I know it's way too early, but I had a moment this weekend picturing the Duke boys jumping the river where the bridge failed. The frame freezes with the General Lee in the air as we go to commercial. Roscoe lands in the soup and splashes mud all over Pres. Bush.

I know, I know. I'm going to hell.

Ancestral Antics

Click on image for larger version.

Dude! So I was dinking around on ancestry.com, 'cause you can make these cool family trees. Also, there is an absurd amount of infomation online about my material grandmother's family. However, having entered information going back six generations, I found that two of my maternal grandmother's grandparents were first cousins. Which makes her parents second cousins. Oy, those crazy Germans.

So. If you are aware of any pronounced peculiarities in my nature, you know what the problem is.

Fallen Flat

My brothers used to have one of those hot wheels race tracks that were basically flat pieces of plastic that you jam together. It was flexible enough that you could prop it up on things to make "hills" in the track.

The 35W bridge collapse reminds me of when the track would separate and fall to the floor. How is it that the framework beneath it seems to have collapsed so utterly? I know that some of it is hidden in the water, but doesn't it sort of look like there was nothing beneath the asphalt?

Holy. Crap.

I'm fine, y'all. Thanks for the message, Lollie. I don't use that bridge every day, but it's damn close to where I work. I can NOT believe the extent of the collapse. I heard about it on the radio and imagined a piece of the bridge having fallen. But the WHOLE thing...?

I can't really think of many things scarier than being in a car on a bridge that is collapsing. Those poor people. But family has called. Friends are OK. Send your good energy this way.

oxox

"The Breedy Bleedy Region"

It feels like an Ask a Ninja type of day.



You're welcome.