what a difference a day makes

Ahhh, Friday. I thought I'd follow up on Tuesday and Wednesday's posts (or like the label says at the Shreveport office--"Wensday").

When I got back home last night (three hours later than scheduled due to weather), I had a package awaiting me. In it was my little award (a cute paperweight-type thing), a magazine where I can pick my prize, and my schpeel. Wanna hear it?

"cjh has taken over a very difficult site [Shreveport] with over 100 patients where the monitoring was very behind, and she goes to the site every 2 weeks and stays 4 days to get things caught up...she has never once complained [um, or something] about the arrangement and in her limited availability she has done SIVs and SSVs [other trips that I'm not required to do] for new sites coming into the study. cjh is also a pleasure to work with."

You know, or "general fabulousness." Whatever, I'm glad at least I got to read it.

Also, yesterday was much better. It started with a cute outfit, Starbucks, some face-to-face interaction with some normal folks, and the knowledge that I was going home at the end of the day. Work people were much more pleasant and the day went by fast (something that has never occurred there). Then I got to hang out at the airport because of delays. But who cares? Why get stressed over the weather? It gave me an opportunity to read.

One last thing before I leave you for the weekend. Here's why I love Tom Robbins so much. A passage from the book I'm currently reading, Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas:

George Washington's teeth: were they hardwood or soft? Mahogany for strength or spruce for warmth and luster? Painted, varnished, or raw lumber? Carved from a single block or an assemblage of various small pieces? If the latter, were they glued, nailed, or simply notched and fitted together? Rot? Splinters? Woodworms? Did cherries stain them red, mustard turn them yellow? In use, would they clack and knock aesthetically like the clacking and knocking in traditional Japanese music, or would they have sounded more like a woodpecker in a sycamore? Accidentally dropped while crossing the Delaware, would they have sunk, or floated like a toy boat? During lovemaking, were they in or out? What marks might they have left on Martha's nape? By candleshine in an eighteenth-century dining room, what shadows did they cast upon the walls? All the way home, you think about George Washington's teeth. Your mother told you that whenever a person is confused and overwrought and not thinking straight, they should pause for a few moments and contemplate something from history. You have tried this many times, but the only thing from your history classes that seems to have stuck in your mind, aside from the Great Depression, which you simply refuse to ponder, is George Washington's teeth.