Rejoice with Me...

For anyone who believes in rejoicing with those who do rejoice, please join me... for I am truly rejoicing! I was not sure what I was going to do about the conflict between my anatomy & physiology final on Friday morning and the need to get to PA by 5ish for the FB college retreat Friday afternoon. So I asked Dr. M a couple weeks ago if I could make arrangements to take the final early. He said he'd be glad to work something out with me. It was put on hold while I madly tried to keep my head above water for all these tests (two tests per week).

Now beings the last lecture is on Thursday, and because the content of the lecture will be on the final, it is not feasible to take it the day before. So I've been just planning that I can come early on Friday morning and take it before everyone else gets there; then we'll buzz on to PA. I wanted to get a confirmed time, however, so this morning after lecture, I stayed after class and got in line to talk to the prof.

Anyway, when it was finally my turn to talk to the prof, I told him what I wanted. "Come in and sit down," he said. I sat. He said he was going to tell me this tomorrow, but now is just as good. He said that since I've already "locked in" my A, I wouldn't need to take the final. Just show up for the rest of the days, and I'd be fine.

I simply did not "get it" right at first. "What are you saying?" I said, trying to shake the fuzz from my brain. "What do you mean, 'locked in'?" It turns out that he drops the lowest grade in both the lab and the lecture, then doubles the next lowest grade. So neither one of my last two tests could hurt me. "Huh?" I said. "Are you sure??" I was really confuzzled.

"Kris," he said. "You've given me six A's already. You are one of only four people in the class who has a legitimate A at this point. I do not need another A to tell me that you're an A student. Just show up Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and you won't even have to show up on Friday. In fact," he continued, "for the lab test on Wednesday, I do not want you to do any more studying from now until then. Let's just see what you remember. If you know it, fine.. put it in the blank. If you don't know it, write me a little poem or something."

"Are you sure this won't come back to bite me?" I asked (duh, Kris).

"I promise," he said.

I was totally flabberghasted. "I've already promised to meet with another student tonight and study," I said a little lamely.

"Oh, that's fine," he said. "I'd be glad if you could help somebody else with a tip or two, but you don't need to worry about any of the last two tests. Deal?"

"Deal," I confirmed, shaking the hand he offered. I just had to laugh... a little with glee...a little from the high I got from finally "getting" it.. a little from the sheer joy and relief of no more pressure and knowing I had "locked in" my A for the class (what a concept!). No more schedule conflicts. Wow. I love Dr. M.

Now the thing is... if I didn't have to actually take the test on Wednesday, I would follow his suggestion and cease my studying. But I can't bear the thought of getting a test back on which I didn't put forth the effort required to pass. Therefore, I will continue to study through that test for sure. I would hate to join the majority of the kids who start cussing immediately upon getting their tests back like they did this morning. I hadn't noticed it before this morning, but the air was literally full of cussing kids.

Now isn't this grand?? Any suggestions for a clever little poem I can put on my test on Wednesday?

Our Day Not at the Lake

It all began with Jolene deciding that we should take Martin’s boat out to the lake last Saturday. And thus, she began her boating campaign which ultimately ended up with dragging Sharon, Martin, and me to the lake. Jolene has a New Hobby, which we shall call "tubing." Tubing, when defined, would simply be a large inflatable tube by which one is dragged around the lake on. Jolene was absolutely determined that Sharon and I should share her new love, all studying aside!

So against my better judgment, I allowed myself to be talked into going down to Nashville on Friday night so that we could purchase life jackets. It seems the life jackets in Martin’s boat were unfortunate enough to have spent the winter with the cats; they were, therefore, not fit for the human olfactory receptor. We arrived at Boater’s World around 6:30 Friday evening–and our human "chain" descended upon its interior in a quest for the perfect life jacket. They only had three long shelves of them, and it took quite some time to find the perfect fit for the perfect price. We found one for Martin that had the markings of a cobweb, which inspired an impromptu in-store rendition of his "Spider Man" routine.

Jolene selected her precious tube, we made our life jacket purchases, and we were on our way. Now it should be noted that Jolene had gone through some pretty serious trauma to even get us up to this point–better described in her own words:

***
I have been begging Martin for two weeks to let me wash off & clean up his boat. He finally let me today.

He parked it in the sun for me so that I could get the advantages of the sun’s rays. It was a win-win situation. I was more than a little enthusiastic in my work, and in an hour or so, I had it all cleaned & polished. While he inspected it and tried to start it (a whole other story), I stood on stand by.

Martin asked me if I knew where some wing nut thingy was. Nope. Sure didn't, but I spotted something on the ground that could possibly be it. I bent down to pick it up and WHAM! Where the propeller came from, I have no earthly clue. Like a propeller on the back of a boat– who would have thought?? No seriously, in my intense focus on the object on the ground I guess I never saw the stupid, stupid propeller right smack in front of me. Anyways, the very sharpest and upper most part of the propeller nearly took my eye out. I literally jammed it up underneath my eyeball. Seriously. Not exaggerating at all. The pain was so excruciating, I couldn't think or talk for a second, but soon the reality didn't just sink in–it slammed in. To my utter feminine shame, I burst into sobs. Martin tried to ask me if I was ok, but all I could do was cry and walk in circles.

Finally I ran into the house to try and find my Mother's sympathetic shoulder. No mother anywhere. I found out later she had gone to the bank. So I continued to sob, and Martin came in and looked at my eye. In the midst of my crying he handed me a dry wash cloth. At the time it seemed like a good thing, but now I wonder–why a DRY WASH CLOTH??? Oh well, he did what he thought would help me at the time. Mom came home then, and she made me go to the eye doctor to make sure it would be ok. It will be. Other than swelling, a cut, sore eyeball, and the feeling of utter stupidity, I'm good! As Kris said, "Just thank God you have an eyeball left!" So thanks God! And I have learned one thing......eye lids sure shut fast!

*****
In hindsight, this could have been taken as an indication of how things were going to go. However, our ignorance, coupled with Jolene’s enthusiasm of "going tubing," kept us tarrying on.

Martin still had the task of figuring out how to start his boat, which he planned to do first thing in the morning. Sharon and I told Martin and Jolene to call us about 45 minutes before they planned to leave–but please, not too early. "The earlier, the better," they said. Great. No rest for the weary.

Martin’s trials in figuring out what the problem with his boat not starting shall not enter the scope of this post, but suffice it to say, he struggled–for hours until he thought he had the problem fixed. We finally arrived at the lake–at 11:30. Sharon and I had driven down separately so that we could leave if we decided we had had too much fun in the sun.

The launching of the boat presented yet another whole set of problems. Launching a boat makes me weak-kneed with anxiety, so Sharon and I perched ourselves on a rock on the hill and tried not to watch. That left Jolene (lover of tubing) to help Martin get the boat launched. Everything went according to plan–mostly. That is, until it came time to start the good old Sea Sprite. Martin’s Big Mistake of the day was when he lowered the propeller before ensuring the boat would start. The propeller was lowered, after which the battery promptly went up in smoke–quite literally–and the boat, of course, would not start at all. Because the propeller was down, the boat could not be pulled out of the water without damaging it. So there we were–stuck. Half in, half out!

We had a quick Huddle and decided that Sharon should drive her car down to the water’s edge (oh help), and we would try to jump the boat battery off with jumper cables. Nervous as a cat, she was, as she inched the nose of her car down the steep hill. Jolene and I kept trying to get her closer and closer and closer to the water’s edge so that we would have a better chance of the cables reaching, but she was terrified her car would drown. So at a certain point, she declared that was it! We decided to join two sets of jumper cables together in order for them to reach. This was done VERY carefully, as we feared being electrocuted, despite Martin’s assurances that it was "only 12 volts, and it won’t hurt you." Doesn’t matter. I’m of the persuasion that water and electricity should not mix... ever. Well, it worked, praise God. The boat had enough juice to get the propeller back up, and we pulled the Sea Sprite up and out.

Time was moving on, and we had to get a new battery. After more debating, we decided we would make the twenty minute drive to Glasgow so that Martin could make Advance Auto honor his battery warranty. We all hopped into Sharon’s car, and down the highway we went to Glasgow–muttering and sputtering all the way–and passing many, many battery places. Things just weren’t going the way a Day at the Lake should. We ended up sitting at AA for a good twenty minutes while Martin took care of business. Their diagnosis was that the battery was "good" and was not to be replaced. What part of "up in smoke" could they not understand? Martin ended up purchasing an extra battery, and we made our way back to the lake.

We again went through the boat launching procedure. A lesson had been learned, however, and the propeller was not lowered until AFTER the boat was started. In fact, once it was started, it was not to be turned off until we were through for the day. Sharon was saving a parking space up at the top of the hill for Martin’s truck and trailer, so he left Jolene and me there at the dock holding on to the boat with a putzy little rope. And that was no easy task. Now that the boat was started, it wanted to go...and it was all we could do to keep ahold of it. It was like holding on to an electric egg beater. I had visions of it jerking me into the water–a place I was not interested in without my precious life jacket. So we grabbed on to the side of the boat and hauled it up parallel to the boat dock and waited a miniature lifetime until Sharon and Martin appeared.

We joined Jolene’s tube in the boat (we could barely see over it), and it was not long until we were ready to nurture Jolene’s New Hobby. It had clouded over by this time, and as late as it was (2:00), there was no way it was going to be worth it for me to get into the water. I do not naturally acclimate to water–it’s better left alone, in my opinion. And we were supposed to be back home by 4:00 anyway. So I informed Jolene that today was not the day that I was going to try tubing. Sharon felt sorry enough for her that she agreed that she would at least try it. Here is Sharon’s testimonial:

***
"So Martin put the tube into the water, and Jolene put on Kris’s life jacket and got into the tube. Now this tube is a two-person tube. It has a hole into which a person’s rear is to descend and their torso and legs are to keep them from disappearing into the hole. They then demanded that I finishout the required duo on the tube. Rather than destroy Jolene’s life forever by refusing (even though I wanted to), I reluctantly put on a life jacket and attempted to get onto the tube. It was a disaster from the very beginning. I got one foot into the hole (there is no graceful way to get onto this thing) and of course with my added weight, it wanted to move, and I wasn’t strong enough to hold myself up. So I began to descend. I desperately held onto the boat and tried to get onto the tube and tried to grab onto Martin and tried to get into the tube [all at the same time]. It wasn’t working.

So here I was, half on the tube, half in the water and trying to find a firm foundation—any one would do. I REALLY didn’t want to go fully into the water, which was surprisingly warmer than I thought it would be, but still, I wasn’t prepared to be fully immersed. Martin finally grabbed the tube and got it under control, and I got up on it. I should have just abandoned ship right there and gotten back into the boat, but Jolene was so determined that I would love it that I decided to at least try it.

Martin hooked us up, and I instructed him in no uncertain terms that he should go slowly, and if I wanted to quit, there would be an immediate termination of forward motion and a rescue operation should ensue. Jolene instructed me to lean forward and hold onto the handles as Martin slowly eased the boat into motion. I was immediately unimpressed with the results. We seemed to be plowing water, and I had visions of disappearing into the depths like the aforementioned vehicle. Martin eventually got up enough speed to lift us up above the water, and I still was not impressed. .

Now Jolene had told us how sore her butt had been from her prior joy rides, but it did not prepare me for the beating that I was now privy to. Water that had mere seconds earlier been pliable was now as hard as a concrete surface scraping along my rear. After 15 to 20 seconds of that brutality, I decided that something had to happen. I stiffened my body to attempt to raise my butt a few inches, which resulted in my foot going down into a wave, which in turn resulted in a face full of water for me. Remember that I don’t like water in my face and eyes? I was suddenly blind, receiving a beating, and wanting OUT!!!

"Jolene, get me OUT of here!" I demanded. "NOW! Tell him to stop!"" Jolene was laughing but recognized the desperation in my voice. She thought that I might be crying. I wasn’t……yet. (But you know what (most) children do when they are spanked? They cry.) If it was going to last much longer, I probably could have, because it was painful! She managed to convey to Martin to stop, and with the decrease in momentum, it felt like we were going to somersault backward into the water. I mentally tried to prepare myself for the dunking……but it never came.

Martin circled around, and when I could finally peer through the water in my eyes, I could see that Kris was giggling hysterically. I wanted to pitch her into the water headfirst. She couldn’t contain her delight in my unfortunate experience, for it had (evidently) been a hilarious sight. Istill wasn’t amused, and Martin pulled the boat around where I could climb into the back. I grabbed a towel and retreated to the front of the boat where I dried off.

Kris still refused to get in, so Jolene decided to have a go at it alone. We dragged her around for a while. Kris sat in her seat occasionally glancing at me and going into gales of laughter. After a while she said, "My smile muscles are so tired! This is the funniest thing I’ve seen in awhile." Smile muscles, my foot!"

****
It really was the funniest thing. I was almost in tears I was laughing so hard. From Sharon’s wail of, "Martin, I’m not sure I even want to travel," to her stiff as a board posture in that raft... well, it was simply too much, and I was quite overcome with my own mirth. It was even funnier than all the comedy clubs I’ve never been at. I took Sharon’s dark looks at me in stride, and I was quite thankful for the foresight I had had in not taking on this new little activity. I may try it at some point, but my intuition told me that that day was simply not The Day.

And for all our troubles, we were out on the lake for about all of an hour and a half total–hardly long enough to warrant the sun screen we applied (for which Sharon had made a special trip to Wal-Mart, I might add). Unfortunately, we were more "not on the lake" than we were on it. It certainly was not the plan of our original design. I think we might need to come up with a new plan.

Blessings Amidst Dry Bones

Why paper cuts must exist, I surely don’t know. All I was doing was opening a bill…as in mail. I guess I should use a letter opener instead of tearing into it as if I’m uncivilized or mail-starved . Argh. I still believe in the power of bandaids, however, and even though it is placed in an awkward heap in the valley between my two fingers, it does make me feel a little better.

On to other things. I am now at the halfway point of my anatomy class. I cannot tell you what a blessing I am finding my professor to be. I’ve told Sharon she needs to take his class just so she can experience the fun of having him for a teacher. I’m working really hard to get everything, but it isn’t the drudgery I expected it to be. I have to think back to my A & P class at the Tech School and what a nightmare it was. There just is no comparison. I survived the bone test with a low A, but there were only six A’s out of 58, and the class average was a 73; so I won’t complain too much about that. I don’t mind so much missing the ones that I simply don’t have a clue about. It’s the ones that I studied and can’t recall that get me!! So unnecessary. For example, I knew good and well that the fontanels of the infant skull were going to be on that test. I even studied them and thought I knew them. But at recall time… NOPE! Could not drudge the things up for anything. I call this “glazed over” phenomenon a “classic Kris.”

The maintenance people decided to cut the power on the same day we had the bone test. So we had the craziest schedule. We met downstairs on the sunny side of the building [a different room] for the lecture part first. Prof M was VERY merciful to us and let us go a whole 45 minutes early so we could prepare for the lab exam. At 10:00, we met upstairs in the zoology lab on the sunny side of the building to take the bone part of the exam. Then we marched down the hall on the second floor to a third and final room to take the written part of the exam, also on the sunny side of the building. No power means no air, so there we were again… panting like dogs.

As was told prior to the test, the bones were indeed just laid out randomly with bone markings marked to be identified. I had spent so many hours in that lab touching, feeling, holding, and identifying those bones that it was mostly easy.. except for the infant skull. That was just not to be recalled. The written part of the exam was worse than the practical part, I thought, but there were many others who disagreed with me. There were two girls the next morning rejoicing that they had gotten a D. “I’ll take it!” they said. A “D”???

Then it was on to study for the lecture test on Friday. We don’t even get all the material for the test until on Thursday, so it makes it a little hard. I was going to go home and study for it on Tuesday night, but Sharon and Jolene came over and we solved yet another set of the world’s problems—and I didn’t get ANY studying done at all. I paid for it later though. I fell asleep last night while studying for today’s test… so I got up at 10 till 5 and studied away the remaining hours. I thought today’s test was the best one yet though… it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.

The next milestone is to get ready for the muscle test on Tuesday. I'm tired already.

Only a Month

I am taking Anatomy and Physiology as a summer class during the month of June. Although this is the general ed class that I have been dreading the most, I am finding that I have a lot to be thankful for:

1. It will be over in only a month.

2. The professor says we don't have to bring our textbook to class with us (Praise God!). It is so heavy!

3. The professor has a reputation of being "only the best professor at Western," and he's proving it. I have not heard one single bad thing about him. I've only heard things like, "I learned more under him than I did under any other prof." He is more approachable and helpful and congenial than any other prof I've had. For example, he sat down with me and a couple other girls until 8:15 p.m. one night last week and helped us review the tissues for our test today (which I survived--nervous, nervous). There aren't many profs who will do that.

4. The professor has a sense of humor and is of the "laid back" type. He's African American. When he was teaching us "basic chemistry," he admitted that he really dislikes chemistry. "I used to be caucasian," he said, "until I took my first chemistry class. Then something happened!" Of course, we all got a kick out of that.

5. I've got my little "network" of buddies started, and I think they're a great set of people.

6. We have nice big, comfortable office-like chairs in a newly-renovated room.

7. OH...AND... he doesn't make us read ahead in our book like so many profs do. He actually teaches us what we are to know, and we are to use the book as a reference if we don't understand something. Phenomenal!


There are also some drawbacks, however:

1. You have to work your tail off--study ALL the time--just to stay on top of things.

2. We have two tests every week--one lab test and one lecture test. I had the choice of taking the class in an intense setting with Prof M. this month or to take it with Prof S. this fall in a much less intense schedule situation. I think I made the right choice.

I was really nervous about the test today. I cannot seem to overcome the "shakes" when I am nervous. It went amazingly well, however, but only because I had put in so much time studying for it...probably a total of no less than sixteen hours. What is so alarming is that there are quite a few students who are re-taking the class, mainly to improve their GPA's so that they can be admitted into a healthcare program. They tell me that the next two tests in the labs will be killers. They said that for the test, you have to know every bone in the body as well as the names of the ENDS of the bones. You walk into the room and the bones are all spread out at different locations. They're not in the skeleton at all. I think I shall follow another student's suggestion to take my digital camera into the lab and take pictures of the bones/muscles, then turn the pics into a slide show for study purposes. Just how clever is that??

Jiminy Crickets!

I'm going to kill that cricket....as soon as I find him. That little beast has taken up residence in my window well and woke me up at 4 a.m. yesterday morning. I pounded on the window until my knuckles were sore, but he would only stop long enough to catch his breath; then he would start up again. I had to pull the covers over my head and rely on my exhaustion to carry me back into the land of nothingness.

And now tonight, he's back...praise and worship in full swing. I told Sharon he's going to have to die, no doubt about that. We have no bug spray, so I grabbed my carpet cleaner, my flashlight, and an old flip-flop. I shone my flashlight out my window... no cricket to be seen. I could hear him alright, just not see him. I shone and shone and shone. No cricket!! But I did find two baby crickets waiting to jump in my window should I open it, three slugs, one VERY LARGE spider, one small spider, and two bugs of the unidentifiable sort. And then my nerve left me. I couldn't bring myself to open my window. There are entirely too many uninvited things that could come in.

Sharon appeared on the scene. "My," she said. "You do have a nice little chorus going on in here."

I decided to go outside and approach it "unawares." I grabbed my flashlight, carpet cleaner, and flop on my way out. I had to approach my window like a thief in the night because Ray & Stacy were still up watching TV, and I didn't want to scare them. I kicked and thumped the window well and shone my flashlight some more, but could not find a thing...except MORE spiders and MORE unidentifiable bugs. Nothing deters this crazy cricket. I gave up and went back inside, noting that Ray's lights were out. I probably freaked them out with my kicking and thumping, and they probably think we are being attacked or something. Sigh. And still the cricket sings. And I feel like I have bugs all over me.

I need to know two things from some country bumpkin out there:
1. Does a cricket sing all night?
2. What is the life expectancy of a cricket?

I think I shall burst into a rousing rendition of my own: "Oh, Lord Jesus, How Long?"

The Lost Hammer

How can you lose a hammer in only five days? I just used it on Monday to hang a picture on my wall, and now that we need it again, that hammer has completely disappeared. I have been the recipient of some very dark looks and some scathing remarks from my dear sister throughout this entire day. As it turns out, she needed the hammer to assemble the cabinet she bought to store our bathroom towels in. Yes indeed, our towels have graduated from the basket they were once kept in to a brand new stereo cabinet, courtesy of Wal-Mart. Our toilet paper, also once kept in a mere basket, now has a shelf of its own.

This is all to say, where is that hammer?? I have looked everywhere... under my bed, in my closet, in every drawer I possess... I've even looked through my pillows. And I've also looked in every other room of the house. It's gone. I suppose it shall turn up when I least expect it, in some place no sane person would think of looking. I hate that.

Now where is that hammer??