The Blog has moved... Seriously.

For those of you who missed the last post...

I moved the blog over to it's own domain. Come on over. And adjust your links/sidebar/whatev accordingly. Seriously. It's a mess, so far, but it's at least worth a look, right? Hey, you can point and laugh at me!

Okay, I'm a shameless attention whore. I'll admit it. I probably should talk to my counselor about that.

I'm moving on...

Well, my blog is moving anyway.

The new address is

I'm still working some of the kinks out (formatting issues mostly), but I'm pretty excited about how it's looking. All of the archives have been moved over already (Yay, wordpress! LOVE that import button!!) as well as the comments.

Come on over, check it out and let me know what you think. Pretty please?

And Now For Something Completely DIfferent...

Sorry... I really need to get off my Monty Python kick.

That being said... a very minor announcement tomorrow.

Life In a Border Town...

Gets very interesting on Game Day.

Game Day. OSU vs. Michigan. A rivalry that inspires such passion in their fans that one is literally not safe driving a car into Columbus with a Michigan bumper sticker or license plate. It causes countless bar fights, sells a hell of a lot of merchandise for both teams, and can actually divide some families.

Well I guess it doesn't divide every family...

It also causes a certain blogger to do insane things. Like build a bonfire and set her favorite sweatshirt ablaze after a particularly tough loss.

Living just two miles from the Ohio State/Michigan border means that one is just as likely to see an OSU flag flying outside a house as a Michigan flag.

It's really a cool thing, driving around on Game Day. Everyone's decked out in their colors, everyone's talking about the game... From experience I can tell you that tonight the ER's will be slammed... I won't miss that.

I don't know how the game is going to go today (for those of you die hard OSU fans, don't get too cocky, stranger things have happened...), but I have hope.

Go Blue, Baby!

Backboard Tape.

"Where are we heading?" I should already know... because my employer issues us all these very nice pagers. I should be able to pull it out of my pocket, press a button, and be rewarded with some information (accurate or not is another question entirely) about the run.

Like the location.

I should, but I can't because I washed the damn thing again.

Pseudo Dad rolls his eyes at me for the fifth time tonight, "Over to the mall area, code 2 county run. You're really going to have to stop washing your pagers."

I nod and wrap my frozen fingers around a steaming hot cup of coffee. The snow has been steadily coming down for the majority of the day. Now that the sun has gone down the roads are a sheet of ice. For once I'm glad that Pseudo Dad is driving.

He parks the squad in the only available spot. Directly behind the firetruck in the middle of the narrow street. After marking us on location with dispatch and the county, Pseudo Dad steps out. I don't.

"We're you planning on coming?"

"Well, I was hoping I could just sit here and let you do all the work. It's pretty cold out there. And the snow flakes will definitely ruin my hair." I flashed him a toothy grin.

"You're the flake. Let's go."

"You need to get more sleep, Dad. You're no fun." The truth was I was checking out our entrance. There were two sets of steps we were going to have to navigate. In the snow and ice. With a patient on the stretcher.

I hope our patient is light.

"Do you think the fact that we haven't been met by TFD has anything to do with the fact that it's 10 degrees outside and snowing?" I was looking at the four big guys standing just inside the front door of the house.

I bet their fingers aren't numb.

"I think there's a chance you could be correct there. " Pseudo Dad laughed. "Maybe they saw your hair."

"Maybe they saw your lack of it and felt sorry for your frozen melon? Ehhh?"


The small living room was standing room only, and even that was at a premium. Four from TFD, the patient, and five members of the patients family. Everyone was talking at once. That combined with the large LCD tv blaring an episode of Cops and it was impossible to figure out what was going on.

I pulled the first Medic I came across aside. "Hey, I'm Epi from Little Private Service... What's going on?"

"She fell on the steps outside and twisted her ankle. They're arguing over where to take her. She's refusing an ice pack or a splint." He looked more than a little frustrated with the situation.

"OHHHHHH LAWDY! My whole leg is hurtin'... Owwwwww Lawdy Lawdy!" Enter our patient. 315 pounds of quivering drama.

I stepped forward while Pseudo Dad dropped the stretcher to the floor. "Hello Ma'am, I'm Epi with Little Private Service. Can you tell me what's going on tonight?"

"I was heading out to take my Grandbabies to McDonalds for dinner... Oh Lawdy it hurts..." She was holding a stuffed animal, which for God knows why struck me as odd. It was a Winnie the Pooh for those truly interested.

"Which leg is it?" I had to ask because I could see both ankles, and they were both edematous. I couldn't see any discoloration... Everything looked normal. The truth was I had no idea which limb was supposed to be injured.

"It's the left one... Lawdy Lawdy Lawdy..."

I checked her PMS, which was all normal. Being someone who's broken her left ankle twice and twisted it more times than she can count, I can sympathize... Of course I've never called for an ambulance for it, but then again I don't weigh what she does.

"Okay, well we'll certainly take you to the ER if that's what you want... Is there a reason you don't want at least an ice pack on it?"

"Oh Jesus it hurts too much for ice... I need some percocets or something... Oh JESUS it hurts..." She was fanning herself with a church bulletin.

Perfect. She wants Percocet. Fantastic.


We managed to convince her to go to the closest hospital, a five minute transport. Her family argued that this was unacceptable as her doctor was at Inner City ER. What they didn't realize was that Physicians at Inner City ER also practice at The Closet ER. One of the benefits of belonging to that particular health system.

Our patient, for the record, didn't care where she went. She just wanted pain relief. Relief we weren't going to be able to provide her with, but at least she only had a five minute bumpy ambulance ride ahead of her. Inner city ER was at least three times that.

With our patient packaged on the stretcher we made our way outside. I took the foot end of the cot, as customary when working with Pseudo Dad. We had an extra Firefighter to help me. Pseudo Dad claimed he didn't need any help.

The first set of steps (four in total) went fine. 315 pounds wasn't even enough to justify a bari cot.

The second set of steps however...

I don't know if it was my frozen fingers on a metal cot, or ice under my boots, or the EMS Gods hitting that smite button, but I lost my footing and in an attempt to right myself, managed to land directly on my ass.

*A collective gasp is heard from the tiny bunch of Firefighters braving the snow*

I jump to my feet instantly and rejoin the firefighter, grateful that my Pseudo Dad didn't lose his grip. "I'm fine... sorry about that..." I stammer. My face is a furious shade of crimson.

Jesus, how could I let that happen? Seriously, Epi... You could have dropped your patient...

Thank God I had that Toledo Firefighter there lifting with me, or God only knows what would have happened.

While we were loading the patient into the back of the truck I heard a whistle and a comment about "pink". I didn't think much of it at that point.

The ride to the ER/ED/EC was uneventful. Although I did manage to convince her to allow me to ice her ankle. A tiny victory for me.


I was sitting in the EMS room completing my report when Pseudo Dad appeared. He was in the process of grabbing a Diet Pepsi from the fridge when he paused. "Ohhhhhhhh..... Hahahahahhahahahahaha *pause to breathe* HAHAHAHAHAH" He was doubled over, he was laughing so hard.

I found myself completely confused. And a little annoyed. "WHAT? What's so effing funny?"

He wiped tears from his eyes, "I hope you packed an extra pair of pants... Because the ones you have on have seen better days."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Yes, I'm truly that clueless. Clearly that's what makes me the source of entertainment for my partners.

"I'm surprised you didn't notice the draft..." He set the can down and wiped his eyes with a tissue.


Yep. I ripped a pair of pants.

I destroyed them, in fact. And no, I didn't have an extra pair with me. And wouldn't you know it, Dispatch had two runs waiting for us. No time to run home (25 minute drive) to change.

The solution... Backboard tape.

I did two more runs that night with an eight inch long strip of backboard tape over my backside.

The moral of the story is... Make sure you pack an extra pair of pants. Or watch where you step.

Grace, thy name is Epi.

Thank you, Braden...

Thank you to Braden, who pointed me to this.

I luuuuuurve me some Monty Python. And I needed the giggle.


I went to court. And emerged still owning everything I went in with. Yay for proper documentation.

I convinced my Son that his handwriting really was a little subpar on his homework assignment.

I did a photo shoot and didn't second guess myself.

My daughter actually took a nap. No small fete there.

I got to sleep in.

I passed a test that I never dreamed I'd pass. (Thanks, JB, AD, and MM!)

Why do I still feel like I've lost my best friend?

Be safe out there.

Tonights Grey Post...

Oh...My God.

They're doing a fecal transplant on Grey's to treat C Diff.

That's both righteous and icky.

I'm going to try to forget about the fact that Izzie is apparently suffering from a brain tumor and is having sex with Dead Denny (STILL HAWT) and the first year idiots are performing surgery on each other.

My last Extreme Makover Post... I promise!

This past Sunday I was invited to attend a party for the volunteers and their families.

I wasn't sure if I really wanted to go to be honest... I've been in a nasty funk lately that I've been trying to shake. The chance to meet up with some of the amazing people I volunteered with was too much of a draw.

Wow. Do they ever know how to put on a party.

Twin spotlights greeted us at the front door. The kids instantly lost their minds.

Then they saw the balloons. FC wasn't as excited as the little one was, but he was itching for one of those Bob The Builder construction hats.

There were blue shirts... Everywhere. I wore mine as well, over my underarmor... Hey, it was cold out. Really really cold.

The room was quickly filling up... All to see the Frisch family. Their kids were everywhere (well, there's a ton of them...), they were very gracious. I caught a glimpse of Aaron walking Jackie through the crowd. He had her arm the entire time. It made me smile to see that kind of love between a married couple.

We didn't stay for the show itself (it was getting a little late for the kids)...

She Who Rules refused to be photographed after having a very Diva moment. FC on the other hand was willing to allow me to snap one of him. He was bored out of his mind, but he kept quiet about it in exchange for popcorn and his gameboy.

In the end, a very tired and cranky Mom dragged her equally tired and cranky (and in FC's case, bored) children back to the car.

I did manage to reconnect with some friends, and that was nice. And it did make me feel good to see the recognition given to those who really built that house. I didn't swing a hammer or paint a wall, but there were hundreds who did. It was nice to see them get some attention.

Bravo to the organizers, ya'll did good.

Love and Everything After... Part IV

Yeah. He didn't cut the cord. Not the end of the world.

At least my little guy was okay. That's all that truly mattered. He was perfect. And gorgeous. Born with a full head of hair. Just like his Momma.

My BP was back to it's norm (110/80-ish), so I was free to sleep on my back or right side. I made my way through preeclampsia with nary a lasting scratch.

That being said, the following ten plus days were hell. I had a horrible sinus infection, and getting adjusted to your first born's sleep schedule does not contribute to a sane or happy Mom. Particularly when she's sick on top of it.

And then the car fell on him.

Mr. Epi. Not the Baby. Obviously.

I was sitting at the table in the kitchen crying into my hands out of sheer exhaustion when I heard Mr. Epi stomping up the back stairs. "EPIIIIIII....EPI Uhm..... I need you."

I looked up as he entered the back door. He was covered in blood. He looked like an extra out of a horror movie.

I sat there, slackjawed. For half a second or so. Then I flipped out.

"OhmyGodohmygodohmygodOHMYGOD... What the hell happened to you? I grabbed him and dragged him towards the sink. There was blood everywhere.

"The car fell... Jackstand...Oh Jesus..." Remember me telling you that he wasn't a fan of blood? He really isn't. He felt ill. I grabbed a kitchen towel from the drawer and put it to his head, walked him to the couch in the living room and forced him to lay down.

FC was sleeping in the swing, blissfully unaware of the chaos.

"You need to go to the hospital. Should I call 911?" I wasn't an EMT yet, I didn't know what the hell to do. With the knowledge I have now he would have gone by EMS. Back then I didn't know what the hell to do.

There is just so much blood.

Mr. Epi decided to stop blowing blood everywhere and speak up. "You are not calling 911. Call your Aunt."

"Well I can drive you..."

"No, you can't. Your car has no oil in it, and it's blocking my truck in." Blood was soaking through the towel on his head.

I called my Aunt, who came to pick us all up. She kept Baby FC, and I drove Mr. Epi to the ER.

He ended up with several stitches, but no skull fracture, thank God.


Winter changed into Spring.

Spring changed into Summer...

Summer changed back into Winter...


...and Winter gave Spring and Summer a miss and went straight on into Autumn.

And that is my last Holy Grail quote. I promise.


Life in the Duplex was just fine, thank you very much... FC was walking, and talking (and talking some more).

Mr. Epi and I were getting along well enough. He did his thing and I did mine. We complimented each other. At least that's what I thought...

The fact was I was fooling myself. Just two years into our marriage and we were basically roommates. Roommates who slept in the same bed. Roommates who got along fantastically. We never fought. We just lived our lives, did sweet things for each other on occasion, and raised our precious Son. Well, I raised him. Mr. Epi was quickly losing interest in him.

I didn't get it. How do you lose interest in your SON?

I was changing the diapers. I was waking up with him. I was playing with him all day. I was feeding him, and kissing his ouchies. That's what a Parent does, right?

Apparently Mr. Epi had issues of his own. Issues I didn't completely understand yet. (Issues I'm not planning on divulging, for the record.)