My favorite day of the month is the fourth Tuesday of the month, when 5 Minutes 4 Books (5M4B) hosts their “What’s on Your Nightstand?” carnival and my “to-be-read” (TBR) list grows by leaps and bounds.
I’ve been known to deliberately NOT schedule things for the fourth Tuesday of the month because I knew I’d be hopping around the blogosphere finding out what everybody’s reading.
I was really thinking when I decided to schedule one of my twice-weekly trips to Grand Island on TUESDAYS.
I was thinking even more when I FAILED TO RETURN a library book to the library in Lincoln when I was there last. That meant I ended up with a book overdue (the one book I had out prior to starting my new regimen.)
But I was REALLY, REALLY thinking when I figured yesterday would be a great time to take that overdue library book back to Lincoln.
It made brilliant sense in my mind. Drive to Grand Island in the morning (1.25 hrs), work 8 hours, drive to Lincoln from Grand Island (1.5 hours), have supper with my parents and little sister (it turned out my oldest little brother was there too), drop books off at the library, and then drive back to Columbus from Lincoln (1.5 hrs).
Combining the trips into a triangle meant I only added 1.75 hrs to my drive time for the day–instead of tacking on the 3 hr round trip to Lincoln some other day (and having to pay all the fines that’d accrue while I was waiting for enough time to accomplish said trip.)
So it was a smart idea.
Except for one problem.
Yesterday was the fourth Tuesday of the month.
I posted my Nightstand post, visited a couple of other posts before I left for work.
Then I was gone for 15 hours straight without internet access.
And I still had to work the next day.
Which means I am now, just now finally getting around to reading what’s on everyone’s nightstand.
Lincoln (my hometown) is a small city or a big town, depending on whether you’re calculating by US standards or by whole world standards. In Nebraska, it’s the big city.
Columbus (my current lodging place) is a small town, no doubt. A small city by Nebraska standards.
Nevertheless, one Sunday afternoon a group of us younger women who somehow found ourselves working and residing in and around Columbus made our way to the smaller town of Schuyler, Nebraska to enjoy a movie.
For five dollars collected by Boy Scout volunteers, we saw The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (without 3D, thank goodness!) in a tiny community theatre.
We sat about in the middle of the theatre.
Five people sat in front of us.
Maybe twelve sat behind us.
The theatre shows one movie a weekend–7 pm on Friday and Saturday, 2 pm on Sunday.
The movies are generally family-friendly, PG-13 at worst.
On this day in history 38 years ago, a court decision legalized the genocide which has since killed over 40 million unborn babies.
In 1973, my cousin Danny was a baby. 615,831 of his peers were murdered.
In 1974, my cousin Donna was born (I estimate). 763,476 of her peers were murdered.
In 1975, my cousin Shiloh was born. 854,853 of his peers were murdered.
In 1977, my cousin Judah was born. 1,079,430 of his peers were murdered.
In 1979, my cousins Sarah and Janalynn were born. 1,251,921 of their peers were murdered.
In 1980, my cousin Jamin was born. 1,297,606 of his peers were murdered.
In 1981, my cousin Adam was born. 1,300,760 of his peers were murdered.
In 1983, my sister Anna was protected in our mother’s womb. 1,268,987 of her peers were murdered.
In 1984, my sister Anna and cousin Ariann were born. 1,333,521 of their peers were murdered.
In 1985, I was born. 1,328,570 of my peers were murdered.
In 1986, my brother Joshua was born. 1,328,112 of his peers were murdered.
In 1987, my cousins Joseph, Vicki, and Luke were born. 1,353,671 of their peers were murdered.
In 1988, my cousin Joseph and sister-in-law Debbie were born. 1,371,285 of their peers were murdered.
In 1989, my brother Daniel and cousins Elizabeth, Becca and Christine were born. 1,396,658 of their peers were murdered.
In 1990, my brother John and cousins Matthew and Paul were born. 1,429,577 of their peers were murdered.
In 1991, my cousins Patrick, Joanna, and Jennifer, and sister-out-law Joanna were born. 1,388,937 of their peers were murdered.
In 1992, my brother Tim and cousins Joel, Jesse, Jeremy, and Caroline were born. 1,359,145 of their peers were murdered.
In 1993, my cousin Eric was born. Another cousin, Melinda, was born stillborn and grieved for by a loving family. 1,330,414 of their peers were murdered.
In 1994, my sister Grace, cousins Michael, Aaron, and Naomi, and brother-out-law John were born. 1,267,415 of their peers were murdered.
In 1995, my cousins Dominique and Kyle were born. 1,210,883 of their peers were murdered.
In 1996, my cousins Ben, Joel, Clayton, and Hannah were born. 1,225,937 of their peers were murdered.
In 1997, my cousins Caleb, Bethany, and Susannah were/was born. 1,186,039 of their peers were murdered.
In 1998, my cousin Lauren was born. Over 884,273* of her peers were murdered.
In 1999, my cousins Isaac and Tabitha were born. Over 861,789* of their peers were murdered.
In 2000, my cousins Megan and Brett were born. Over 857,475* of their peers were murdered.
In 2002, my cousin Anthony was born. Over 854,122* of his peers were murdered.
In 2004, my cousin Brooke was born. Over 839,226* of her peers were murdered.
In 2006, Ezekiel was born to my cousins Shiloh and Janalynn. Over 846,181* of his peers were murdered.
In 2008, Lexie was born to my cousins Sarah and Byron. 1,212,350 of her peers were murdered.
In 2010, Mackenna was born to my cousins Ariann and Mike, and Carter was born to my cousins Adam and Theresa. A thus far unnumbered multitude of their peers were murdered.
In 2011, my nephew or niece will be born. How many of his peers will be murdered this year?
Please pray…
and take action
to end abortion
Are you or your children survivors of this genocide? Would you like your name to be listed within these rolls? Please leave a comment or send me an e-mail and I’ll add you/them to the list. And please, please pray for the end of this genocide.
*Statistics were not reported by the states of California or New Hampshire from 1998 to the present. Alaska did not report from 1998-2002. Oklahoma did not report from 1998-1999. West Virginia did not report from 2003-2004. Louisiana has not reported from 2005 to the present. The children in these states murdered through abortion remain unnumbered, but not forgotten.
Five years ago, when I was halfway through my undergraduate education in dietetics, I never would have guessed that I’d be working in long-term care.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like the idea. I just intended to go a different direction. Should I not end up married before the time came to get a first professional job, I’d try to find something in community nutrition, education in the community.
And that is what I tried for–but jobs in the community are few and far between (and not always that greatly funded.)
So instead of a community position, I found myself in Columbus, Nebraska as a long-term care dietitian. And I love it.
Today I’m thankful…
…for a good first day at the two facilities I’m now consulting for (even if the previous dietitian couldn’t be there to orient me to the facilities)
…for a just the right length to-do list. Now that I’m caught up from my conference and am full-time, I have enough work to keep me busy but not so much that I’m scrambling to keep afloat.
…for affirmation from a coworker who thinks I’m doing a good job (Thanks, Jen!)
…for a visit from my consultant RD who was able to catch something I was doing inadequately so I could correct it (before it became an issue)
…for conversations with coworkers before weights meetings
…for dark chocolate from my Secret Santa in our post-Christmas exchange
Above all, I’m thankful that God, in His infinite wisdom, has chosen to place me as the in-house dietitian in one long term care facility and as consultant dietitian to two others. It isn’t what I would have chosen for myself, but apparently God’s better at choosing than I am!
Back when I was commuting (Oh how nice it is to use the past tense there!), I had to get from point A to point B in the shortest possible time. I generally had less than 15 minutes of wiggle room on either end–and generally had to eat, walk to my car, answer student questions or unload my car in that time.
Which meant I spent some time perfecting those little techniques to make sure you get where you’re going fast enough. Techniques like passing all the slow-pokes before the road narrows to one lane. Techniques like passing the MOMENT you have free room (not waiting until a car approaches and causes the passing room you once had to disappear.) Techniques like knowing which car to get behind when there are people stopped in BOTH LANES at a red light.
Do you know which car to get behind?
I’ll let you in on the secret.
You get behind the vehicle that’s going to accelerate faster–er, whose driver is going to accelerate faster.
Which means, if your options are a car and a truck—
Choose the car.
If your options are a truck and a minivan?
Choose the truck.
If your options are 2 cars?
Choose the younger driver over the older (unless either is driving a Geo Metro–in which case, get behind the car that’s NOT the Geo Metro.)
If your options are 2 trucks?
Choose the man over the woman.
If your options are 2 minivans?
You’re pretty much doomed.
To a clinician, the lab coat is generally more than a mere uniform or a symbol of status.
It’s a savior (from slightly-too-short-short-in-the-back shirts), a necessary layer of warmth (I’m always freezing), and…
a place to stash everything we might possibly need for the course of a working day.
Yesterday, I accidentally left my pockets at home after washing my lab coat.
I won’t be repeating that mistake.
As it was, I had to run home to grab my lab coat pockets’ contents. I just couldn’t do my job without them.
What do I keep in my pockets that’s so essential for my work?
My name tag, telling residents and coworkers who I am and why (or why not) to talk to me.
Black pens for signing charted documents
Mechanical pencils for taking down notes FROM charts
A highlighter to highlight who I need to see that day or when a certain piece of government paperwork is due
A sharpie to mark out confidential information I’ve recorded in my planner or to write notes for the kitchen staff
A paperclip, or several, for corralling paperwork
My calculator, one of the most important tools of my job, useful for calculating how much energy or protein someone is actually taking in or what their approximate needs might be or whether the weight loss they just experienced was significant or not
Chapstick to lubricate dry lips before talking to residents. (If I’m well hydrated and my lips are moist, residents can hear me better.)
A hairnet to cover my hair for a quick trip into the kitchen.
That’s what I keep in my pockets. So tell me, what tools are essential for you to do your job? What do you keep in your pockets (or purse or diaper bag or whatever)?
Our family Christmas last night was enjoyable, but the last gift absolutely stole the show.
In a box labeled “From the Menter family to the Menter family”, we found two cards and several “Grandma” and “Grandpa” baby bibs. It was my brother and his wife’s way of announcing that they’re pregnant.
Baby J. Mentner will be making his arrival somewhere around the middle of July.
They’re not finding out Baby’s sex, but Debbie and I just KNOW it’s going to be a boy. (Grace reads over my shoulder and says “And me!”) Daniel, of course, is obstinate and insists it’s a girl–and that she’ll be the cutest girl in the whole world.
The pre-wedding plan said something about having the first kid somewhere around January 2012–but I’m glad they re-thought that plan and decided to start a bit earlier. Since they anticipate moving elsewhere for Dan’s Ph.D. program sometime in 2012, this gives Auntie Rebekah a bit more time to spoil the little one!
