tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57464799063898051152011-12-14T19:41:25.790-06:00This blog is 0 calories, 95% your daily recommended rockstar value. See, I am good for you. I started this blog as a therapy of sorts. It is random thoughts or stories of my experiences, HIPPA compliant, but only 10% politically correct (or less, depending on mood entirely). If you don't like what I write, stoping reading it. And come over here so I can punch you in the neck.miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.comBlogger351100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-8497650053003619572010-11-06T17:45:00.000-05:002010-11-06T17:46:49.104-05:00

Today, my loyal subjects, we are going to talk about how I battled evil and won. More specifically, how I destroyed a public toilet. This post is inspired by my recent bout of dysentary, but my love/hate relationship with public restrooms goes back a long ways. I am grateful there are public facilities when my bladder is about to explode, and I have been known to cry tears of joy to find a

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-79831212578577539672010-10-21T15:55:00.001-05:002010-10-21T15:58:52.440-05:00

In keeping with the tradition of firsts for 2010, I went out on a limb and did something completely out of character for me.It was impulsive, a little scary, and daring. Almost James Bond-ish. Are you ready for this?Ok.Before work yesterday, I darkened the door of a coffee shop.I know. I'm so reckless. The night before, while discussing carpool, C suggested an early morning run to Java Moose. I

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-64173598349506996002010-10-21T15:53:00.000-05:002010-10-21T15:54:37.098-05:00

I want ice cold fanta orange pop in the bottle. I want Juicy Fruit. I want to ride my bike down the FlyAsh road. I want to play house in that grove of pine up on the hill.I want to climb the apple tree. I want to play hide and seek in the root cellar.I want to be nine years old again.I want to pop balsam bark pitch blisters with a stick, set it afloat in the creek and watch it flame. I want to

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-77540237953262438452010-10-21T15:50:00.000-05:002010-10-21T15:53:08.471-05:00

In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness month, we're going to talk about my boobies (or lack thereof). This is a subject most people shy away from with me, because they don't want to be insensitive, I'm sure. I don't go out of my way to discuss them, either, but if it comes up I always say I'm happy to be rid of them. This mostly shocks people; I have such a flippant attitude about it they can't wrap

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-54494417873772597652010-10-21T15:48:00.000-05:002010-10-21T15:50:27.525-05:00

So I have this theory. If I think it enough, if I wish it more than anything, I will become it, and make it true. Because that's how it works, right? Isn't that what we are told? Mind over matter, create your own destiny, blah blah blah...well I admit I completely buy into this. I do. Everything I have accomplished in my life has been the result of my own blood, sweat and tears. My grit and

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-63890569220251890332010-10-21T15:43:00.001-05:002010-10-21T15:45:18.949-05:00

I'm scared. I feel better getting that off of my chest. What am I so afraid of? Well, chickens, *obviously*. Ok seriously.I'm afraid of wolves. And fog. Carnie folk. And becoming my mother. And failure. But mostly, I am afraid of being forgotten.And no, I don't mean being left behind at the grocery store, although that was a legitimate fear once while out shopping with friends and I had to go

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-32687360192733684682010-06-21T19:23:00.000-05:002010-06-21T20:55:02.841-05:00

There I go again, leaving my desperate fans holding their breath waiting for another post. I've been busy, okay? It's a lot of work being a rockstar. Seriously, what have you all been doing during this monsoon season? Not sitting inside I hope. NOT watching Real Housebitches of New Jersey or Real Houseflakes of New York City. You know you're guilty! I know I know, watching the trainwrecks is

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-56264406198165944952010-05-18T21:56:00.000-05:002010-05-18T22:37:46.912-05:00

I don't believe anyone can get through life without one - and most of us carry the scars of multiple heartbreaks with us forever. It never gets easier, it is never forgotten, but in time memories mellow, hurt becomes bittersweet, our faith is restored, and we hope.Hope. Hope the last one was the only one. Hope the next one never comes.And we swear we would never break a heart. Until we do.I have

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-47080496636810107392010-04-25T13:18:00.001-05:002010-04-25T13:18:38.823-05:00

It was a wild day in the ER. The only thing that was getting me through was a bag of jolly ranchers. I was excitedly breaking my molars on them toward the end of shift when my most interesting case of the day came in, and I thought yes, this one is definitely blog-worthy. A swarthy man in overalls approached my desk and stated he needed stitches. I invited him to sit down for registration since

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-18190647407245135572010-03-31T13:18:00.000-05:002010-03-31T13:19:37.233-05:00

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-72347969776485886662010-03-29T16:45:00.001-05:002010-03-29T16:45:15.445-05:00

I know I haven't blogged in awhile. It doesn't mean I don't care about you, my faithful readers, it just means I don't care enough. My schedule has been keeping me away - that, and I am just totally uninspired. Until last night. I got like a 2 second glimpse of a show called "Kirstie Alley's Big Life" or some such and I was AMAZED. TOTALLY FLOORED. Not just that someone thought "I know a great

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-3734478342102123692010-03-07T18:33:00.000-06:002010-03-07T18:35:13.339-06:00

Even though it's 0600 hours, I am ready to go on a remote call looking for a possible fractured pelvis on a snowmobile trail 19 miles off the road... I LOVE my job!(If only my partner would stop "trying to see if the rig camera works")Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-23482294535216549682010-03-05T19:36:00.001-06:002010-03-05T19:36:40.924-06:00

In the Summer, they struggled. In the Fall, he was suddenly dead. Their little girl tried to understand, her mother tried to hide her tears. How do you reach out to someone who has lost their mate? Can she handle it? How strong is she? Stronger than I. She wants to fall apart, but she can't. She holds herself together for her daughter, she goes to work, life goes on. But one look in her eyes

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-69515364527201154452010-02-23T00:29:00.003-06:002010-06-21T18:47:10.408-05:00

I had to make a special point tonight of spending extra time with each of my kids. I'm not sure why, I certainly wasn't feeling guilty since I had just spent the entire weekend taking them sledding, swimming, cooking special dinners and even baking a pie! Imagine that. My energy has come back so instead of lying around on the sofa I am delving into piles of laundry from the past 3 months,

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-6860582081806279152010-02-21T19:47:00.001-06:002010-02-21T19:47:46.006-06:00

So Tiger Woods, who is some kind of famous golfer or LaCrosse player or some such shit, has a press conference Friday to talk about the whorehouse or rehab spa he's spent the last two months in and how sorry he is that his PR people are such pathetic excuses for human beings for not doing a better job of getting him out of the mess he's in. Or maybe he was saying he was sorry for being such a

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-10935422104685130942010-02-21T06:10:00.000-06:002010-02-21T06:20:14.472-06:00

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-29918814950867398772010-02-21T03:48:00.001-06:002010-02-21T03:48:36.947-06:00

As I sit here at 3 am, eating a slab of rye with Jif and sliced bananas, listening to Pancho and Lefty (by Willie Nelson for you young'uns), I am reflecting on what an awesome day it was today - or technically yesterday- and my earliest memory of eating peanut butter and banana sandwiches. (I have to pause here in sheer bliss now because Conway Twitty and TightFittinJeans just came on) Ok I'm

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-11929159253565648152010-02-14T08:00:00.000-06:002010-02-14T08:05:07.838-06:00

Isn't it what V-day is all about?Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-7719413997707027042010-02-12T18:09:00.001-06:002010-02-12T18:09:39.858-06:00

Do you ever have that moment of clarity, that confirmation, that you are exactly where you should be, doing exactly what you should be doing? I wish I had an exciting or paticularly revolting story to tell you about *the moment*, like a critical cardiac or messy trauma where I herotically save a life - it is, after all, what I do - but I don't.It was, actually, the most unglamorous of calls. A 69

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-78792197231830468392010-02-05T23:17:00.002-06:002010-03-07T08:06:32.011-06:00

Fierce... My new fav word. (Entoned like Christian from Project Runway)I feel fierce. I AM fierce. Being a hot mess was so... 2009. Thank God that's over. The past few months have taken me to Hades and back, and yet here I am, still. To get everyone up to speed, I had a double mastectomy in November. At the same time, tissue expanders were placed, in anticipation of the breast reconstruction I

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-70983014431339065052010-02-05T21:29:00.000-06:002010-02-05T21:28:57.711-06:00

I feel as if I have come back from the dead. Literally. But that is another post... The main reason for my absence is, I haven't been able to post from my blackberry, and I am not tech-savvy enough to figure out why. So I am trying it by email...if you are reading this, then it works! And I'm back! Yay me!Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-11465459643294939682009-10-14T09:34:00.001-05:002009-10-14T09:34:35.867-05:00

So yesterday I had this five minute interview at the local radio station on helmet safety, which is sort of my "baby" since I run the child safety program that our ambulance service sponsors. I was roped into being on the radio by my friend and coworker Chris, who is passionate like I am about child safety, except that I suspect she actually IS passionate about it, whereas with me it depends on

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-35731262783046518322009-10-08T12:17:00.001-05:002009-10-08T12:17:49.965-05:00

The damp,sticky heat and the deep green leaves on the birches are gone. The long, lazy afternoons watching the hummingbirds feed and listening to the buzz of the bees in the raspberry bushes are gone. And something is wrong with me. I never know why or when it happens. It has been a part of my makeup ever since I can remember. The sadness I feel is indescribable. At the mere mention of something

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-87960387259085236952009-09-22T14:38:00.000-05:002009-09-22T14:38:37.696-05:00

As I was dropping off a blood sample in the lab today, the tech stopped me before I was walking out the door. "Wait a minute!" I turned around. "Yeah?" She was eyeing me shrewdly. "There's something weird about you. Something different." I was stumped. "Ummm...." I looked at the other tech, who seemed just as baffled as I was. "Ok?" "I got it!" She finally exclaimed. "You have hair!" So that's

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-3936299981652130242009-09-20T19:45:00.000-05:002009-09-20T19:45:32.055-05:00

Ok, note to self: no more posting when you are on a self-pity binge. Ugh. That was so gay. I'm surprised I don't have comments telling me to shut up. Nobody likes whiners. Today has been awesome. I met a friend at Pincushion mountain and we did a 2 mile hike with our kids, my two-year-old pooped out quickly so most of the walk was with him on my shoulders, but it was so worth it. The weather is

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-27575679701142117912009-09-20T00:28:00.000-05:002009-09-20T00:28:36.111-05:00

So it is Saturday, and I have never been so happy to see the end of a work week. Every day this past week I had thought I wasn't going to make it - I was exausted from overtime and really having a lot of pain issues - even more than usual. I had thought, however irrational it may seem, that once I was done with chemo my pain would go away. This has not been the case. In fact, *this* week, it felt

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-51723040981152284602009-09-17T10:43:00.001-05:002009-09-17T10:43:34.335-05:00

I didn't write this, but it is so awesome I wish I had. How to Poop at Work We've all been there but don't like to admit it. We've all kicked back in our cubicles and suddenly felt something brewing down below. As much as we try to convince ourselves otherwise, the WORK POOP is inevitable. For those who hate pooping at work, following is the Survival Guide for taking a dump at work. *CROP

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-85570054051327776032009-09-14T19:57:00.003-05:002009-09-17T20:15:07.722-05:00

I'm not feeling very chipper today. I'm just a little pissed with myself because, once again, I am playing catch-up and it's exausting. I have a booth at the school's open house this week (thurs) that I basically have NOTHING prepared for, late last week I got the lovely assignment of fit-testing all 164 of our employees for the N95 respirator masks, I haven't studied at ALL for my written exam -

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-56254401837662885042009-09-10T20:10:00.002-05:002009-09-10T22:13:19.977-05:00

So I called my therapist today and told him I was dumping him for someone on the internet. He was quiet for a moment. "Sarah? Are you okay?" Right away I was irritated because there was a hint of amusement in his voice, like he couldn't help it but he wasn't taking me seriously. "Of course I'm ok. You don't believe me?" He sighed. "Ok... So why are you cancelling our appointment? And what do you

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-79978834340483965662009-09-08T02:22:00.002-05:002009-09-08T15:43:51.900-05:00

While we were visiting my sister, Rose, she asked my two kids if they wanted to help her clean out the chicken coop. Of course they said yes - I have been successful in teaching them that manual labor is an honor, after all, or maybe they are still too young to realize the real reason I conceived them - at any rate, the prospect of handling animal feces thrilled them and off they went. I was

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-50243452205652905632009-09-03T03:58:00.000-05:002009-09-03T19:54:55.591-05:00

Sometimes I think my husband is driving me crazy. Let me rephrase that: he IS driving me crazy. On purpose. Granted, it's a short drive, but that's what makes it all the more evil.Why would you WANT to put someone over the edge? Unless you are evil. If you think I'm making this up, because you all know him and you're all like he-would-never-he-is-the-nicest-guy-ever-you-are-so-overreacting, here

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-76384618615050313982009-09-02T11:47:00.000-05:002009-09-02T11:50:55.223-05:00

I was a rookie EMT when I encountered my first abdominal aortic aneurysm. It was a dark, frigid day in late January with a storm front moving in. That's why Lifeflight couldn't fly, and that's why I was called, consequently, to take the ALS ground transfer. We still staffed 2 EMTs on ALS transports - to help the nurses, of course. The patient was already loaded on the ambulance cot in the ER when

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-71575778848719148002009-09-01T11:17:00.000-05:002009-09-01T11:17:02.856-05:00

Whose bright idea was it to come up with automatic flushing toilets?!? They annoy the shit out of me! (Pun intended) Isn't there far grander goals for us as humans (like world peace) than sucking away our waste at the speed of light? And at the most inopportune moments, I might add! I'll decide when I'm done, thank you! Don't pretend like you haven't leaned forward to rest your elbows on your

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-90235851466295523392009-08-30T00:52:00.001-05:002009-09-02T11:57:11.081-05:00

It was a hot summer a few years ago when my girlfriend Holly and I stumbled onto our favorite drink. It was a rare day off for me, and Holly too, as we were both in school at the time and working fulltime. By noon we had two coolers packed (one for food, one for booze) and we were headed to a local beach off the beaten path where the odds of sharing with other locals was probable but the chance

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5746479906389805115.post-39560316401625105592009-08-27T11:50:00.000-05:002009-08-27T11:50:45.582-05:00

I am not a refined or complicated girl. I was raised on oatmeal for breakfast, bread and butter for lunch and something with beans in it for supper. So it may come as no surprise that I still love oatmeal, but I am having a blast trying new foods, of which there seems to be an endless supply! I don't remember my first taste of feta, but I do remember when I began craving it. It was a typical "

miss clampetthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12940935745503750569noreply@blogger.com3