Could someone help me get the knife out of my back?

This first part is really just a minor observation…the real kicker is what comes next.

I have an assistant…her name is Holly as well.  It is easy to distinguish her from myself…for one thing she spells her name Holly…I spell mine Holley.  I work Monday though Friday…and she works the weekends.  But the guys I work with take great pleasure in distinguishing me from her by a number of comparisons.  For instance…they may call her #1 (because she was there before me) and me #2.  They call her YOUNG Holly…and me OLD Holley.  They call her little Holly and me big Holley (because I’m heavier than she is)…they think this is great fun…and hey, I can take a joke so I pretend to be offended and then we all laugh.

The guy I wrote about two posts ago named Randy, left the shelter last Sunday.  I had the pleasure of working with him for exactly 6 days…then he left.  They replaced him with a guy who I’m convinced doesn’t like me simply because I’m a woman.  Perhaps he doesn’t like having a woman for a supervisor, I don’t know…I do know that he has a problem with me…but I can’t pinpoint why.  I can say with relative certainty that the people I work with (both staff and residents) like me…a lot…and I like all of them.  I have worked with this guy for exactly 3 days…and he acts as though every word out of my mouth irritates him.

Yesterday he asked me for some aspirin or Tylenol.  He said that his body from his neck down hurt because he isn’t used to standing on his feet all day.  One of the volunteers had given me a bottle of Migraine Excedrin, and told me it was for the guys in the kitchen if they needed it.  So when this guy asked me for some aspirin or Tylenol…I gave him the Migraine Excedrin.  Today he came into my office while I was leaving a message for the other Holly.  After I hung up, he said, “Was that the GOOD Holly?”  (Har har har…yeah, that’s funny, asshole.)   I said, “Yeah…as opposed to me…the BAD Holley?”  He laughed for a moment then proceeded to tell me that “whatever” I gave him for his aches made him fail his UA….(urine analysis drug test).  Then he asked to see the bottle so he could read the ingredients.  I gave him the bottle…(acetaminophen, aspirin, and caffeine).  He told me that his mother gave him some extra strength  Tylenol earlier as well.  This guy is in his 50s so his mother has to be in her 70s…and I found out that she lives in a retirement home.  I’m thinking that she either gave him some sort of pain pill or possibly Tylenol 3 with codeine…but he told the guy (who determines who stays and goes based on sobriety)…that “whatever” I gave him…made him fail his UA.  I’m certain that the poop is about to hit the fan.  I hope his ass gets kicked out.  I hope I don’t get kicked out.  No one ever told me that I couldn’t give out aspirin.  I wish that some of these people would take ownership of their own freakin’ problems for once in their lives instead of blaming EVERYONE ELSE.

Needless to say, I’ll be giving the Excedrin back to the volunteer.  Too bad that the rest of the guys will have to suffer when they have a headache or backache or whatever…because now I have to be a hard ass.

Tampon Angel

I’m sure that many of you have wondered, “What else can I do with tampons?”  In fact, if you are like me…it’s kept you up on more than one occasion…racking your brain to answer the question.  Well, wonder no more my friends.  Thanks to this website, I now sleep like a baby AND I have tampon crafts adding a touch of class and sophistication to my humble home.

Who knew tampons were so versatile?  Need some stylish earrings to go with that new cocktail dress?  How about some tampon earrings dyed to match that dress?

Is the fall weather getting you down?  Make yourself a bouquet of tampon flowers!  They add a burst of color to any kitchen or coffee table.

For those of you who’ve been wanting to learn a musical instrument…make yourself a tampon pan flute, and impress your friends with some funky dance music at your next party.

For those of you who are hair challenged…how about a tampon toupee?

And for those who find that the old Christmas tree is a bit bare…there’s tampon angels, tampon lights, tree toppers, and bells!  What says MERRY CHRISTMAS DEAR FRIENDS…better than tampon tree decorations.

Of course we can’t leave out our Jewish friends…how about spicing up Hanukkah with a brand new tampon menorah …WICK INCLUDED!

Now gather your children, husbands and friends…and let the fun begin.

“Thanks Tampon Crafts for changing my life!” (Wink)

Two related stories

Parsnip Randy

My new job (Food Coordinator for a homeless shelter) holds so many blessings for me.  Every week I meet new people who’s lives and stories bring such richness to mine.  I’ve met some of the most truly amazing people ever to cross my path, at this shelter.  One such blessing is a man named Randy.  Randy is 41, has long dark hair (that he keeps in a ponytail), dark eyes, a dazzling smile and a personality that won’t quit.  It is my great privilege to work with him three days a week.   His jovial spirit is like a breath of fresh air and his smile brightens the kitchen.

My predecessor was an abrasive, boorish man who yelled and swore at the men daily.  I’ve heard stories from these men (about him) that rile my anger.  He made them feel worthless, and how he managed to keep his job for as long as he did, amazes me.   Once, he became so angry at them for not rotating the bread properly, that he walked into the kitchen…tore it apart in a temper tantrum…then made them go in and put it all back together.  Because of his treatment of them…the kitchen had become a dark place.  Now the kitchen is a place of smiles, and a bit of silliness.  For example…

Our driver’s name is Harry.  Harry is one of my favorite people.  As our driver…he is responsible for picking up donations from stores.  Harry has no judgment when it comes to quantities, and if some place say for example, offers fresh produce…he will pick up a thousand pounds of rutabagas, just because he can.  (LOL)…I’m exaggerating to make a point.  He has trouble distinguishing what a reasonable amount is that we can use before it goes bad…and also choosing vegetables that people will actually eat.

One day he went to get produce from the Stop Hunger Warehouse.  He returned with (no kidding) about 200 pounds of parsnips.  It took hours to prep and slice (in a processor) these parsnips.  We served them with lunch and dinner for three days!  Half of the people wouldn’t even try them.  The next week I was preparing to go to the Oregon Food Bank to get more produce.  I asked Randy if there was anything in particular he wanted me to get.  He smiled that dazzling smile and said, “Oh…we could use a couple hundred pounds of parsnips.”  I laughed and left for the food bank.  Of course there were loads of parsnips there, so I grabbed one.  When I returned to the shelter, I gave the loan parsnip to Randy.  He took a marker and drew hair and a face on it, and proceeded to call it Parsnip Randy.  He carried this thing around being silly for days…and by the next week…Parsnip Randy was dried up and very wrinkled.  Randy began to complain that “Parsnip Randy” was lonely and getting old.  So on my next trip to the food bank…I grabbed another parsnip…a big, long one.  When I got back to the kitchen (Randy was off that day, but came in to eat lunch) I attached a turnip to the top of the parsnip as a head.  I carved a crown out of a carrot and attached it to the turnip head.  I used whole cloves and for eyes…and buttons down the front of the parsnip.  I drew a mouth, and carved a bow tie out of a carrot and attached it to the parsnip.  It made a very handsome and tall companion for “old, dried up Parsnip Randy”.  Old Parsnip Randy was very pleased with young, stud muffin, Parsnip Randy.  Now the two of them live happily together standing in a clear, plastic cup on my desk, with a note attached that says, “Parsnip Randy and umm…”Partner”.

Tuna can massacre

Yesterday our volunteers didn’t show up to make dinner.  I was certain that their being on the calender was a mistake, since this particular group had just volunteered two days before…and I didn’t really expect them to come in.  I was right, but we have to give them a certain amount of time to show up before we start to cook the meal.  An hour and a half before time to serve…three of us started dinner.  This is a rather frantic time, as without the volunteers, there are very few of us in the kitchen.  I started opening cans of tuna to prepare for dinner.  Warning…this is going to be graphic.  My need for attention knows no bounds when it comes sharing what happened next.

One of the tuna cans stayed attached to the can on direct opposite sides after opening it.  For some reason the opener wouldn’t cut the lid on those two sides, leaving me the only option of lifting the lid on one side and pushing the other side down into the can.  I had gloves on, and reached into the can to scrape out the tuna.  As I drew my fingers out, the lid sliced into my middle finger and wedged into it.  Each time I tried to pull my finger out…the lid sliced deeper into it.  My finger was wedged in the can and I couldn’t move it.  When I tried to move the lid…it went deeper.  I started to shake, and didn’t know what to do.  It hurt really bad, and I knew it was only going to get worse before I was freed.  The Orkin man was there spraying for ants, and asking me questions.  I was trying not to panic, and so I calmly said, “I need help”.  He didn’t hear me, and continued to ask questions.  I answered his questions quickly and then said, “I need help…could you please help me?”  He noticed the panic on my face and came to me as I told him what I did.  I couldn’t bring myself to look at my finger, so he held the can and began to move the lid…I could feel it slicing deeper, and finally I said, “You are just going to have to push the lid down on the one side and force the other side out of my finger.  He did it quickly, and the lid (which was buried in my finger at an angle) tore up through the flesh and I was free!  I ran to the sink were blood was rapidly dripping from my finger.  The cut was rather deep and even though I put pressure on it…it wouldn’t stop bleeding.  I saturated a paper towel within minutes.  I was still shaking and knew that I needed help, so I grabbed the first aid kit, and some gloves and headed upstairs to the offices to ask someone to help me bandage my finger.  As I was going through the door, Randy entered the kitchen and asked what was going on.  I told him that I cut myself pretty bad and that I needed someone to help me bandage it.  He literally ran to me saying, “Awww, Holley…let me help you.”  He sat me in a chair, took the first aid kit, found some antibiotic ointment and bandages and fixed me up.  All the while he was working on my wound…he tried to make me laugh…and he did make me laugh.  My finger is still bleeding today…but I think I’ll survive…lol.

I’m glad I know Randy.  I’m glad that I have the privilege of working with such a shiny and beautiful spirit.