I've never seen a gun in real life, never touched a gun, never shot one. When the guys in our singles ward heard this, they determined to "give Sister Nelson a proper education" in the sport of target shooting.
Thus Kevin and I joined 4 young adult gun lovers + our 77-yr-old ward clerk at the George Nourse outdoor gun range on Labor Day for a morning of bang-banging.
I was shocked. How many guns does a person need to have? How about 6 or 7 each, some inherited from their fathers, but most purchased at $450.00 each, at least. Then there's the bullets, ranging from $1.00 each to a box of 50 for $20.
So anyway, they set up targets by taping paper bull-eyes to cardboard boxes, weighted the boxes with rocks and we were in business for the next two hours.
Clip-loading: Hurts,pinches, requires some finger & hand strength.
Aiming: Right eye is useless, so that means shooting left-handed. Left hand has had a
tremor for several years.
Pulling triggers: No apparent strength in my left hand. Pulling, pulling, pulling, cringing and eyes mostly closed. Hey, why isn't this thing working? Then BANG!
I have shot my first gun--a magnum something or other. Frankly it looked like a toy, but the noise--OUCH! Yes I was wearing earplugs, but still it reminded me of a crack of thunder directly overhead. Physically painful in the ear.
So I shot half a dozen type of guns, ranging from a stubby handgun to magnums, glocks,
military rifles. Rifles are heavy, especially since I was using my weaker left side. I couldn't get through a 15-bullet clip without resting.
What did I hit? Hard to know. The bullets ripped through the boxes and raised alot of dust in the distant dirt.
Did you know the average handgun requires 6 lbs of finger pressure on the trigger, but a hair-trigger guns requires only 2lbs pressure? These are supposed to be strictly police-issue guns, though Bro. Barton managed to snag one years ago and was happily ping-pinging away.
Did you know the difference between regular and hollow-point bullets? Regular bullets leave the same size hole both entering and exiting the target. Hollow-points spread on impact and tear a much larger exit hole.
Did you know guns spit out shells as you shoot and they are HHHHHOTTT! I didn't know that until one landed on my neck and hung up on my shirt. I did a little dance of surprise with loaded gun in left hand. ouch, ouch and brushed it off with right hand. It raised a microscopic blister which I was proud to show off at work the next day. "Look at my wound from target shooting. Cool, huh?" By the way, as I am doing this dance, B.A. tells me, "Sis Nelson, When not actually shooting, keep your gun pointed at the ground instead of waving about towards whoever you're talking to."
The blister was not my only wound. I kept removing my earplugs to hear instructions. Bad idea. Now my right ear "hears" with the effect of being underwater. After one week, still no improvement.
Now that I have shooted, I can't see the attraction of going again. The boys love the sport enough to buy numerous guns, truckloads of ammo, concealed weapon permits, and they carry loaded guns everywhere, except church. They also love to watch violent movies and TV shows which, in my opinion, creates a mental paranoia of trouble lurking at every corner. Not ironically, each of these kids are stunted in post-mission life, doing nothing to further their education or marital prospects.
Today at church, B.A. approached me with great enthusiasm. "Sis Nelson, you've got to come with us again. This time we'll teach you how to shoot western rifles." (Think Matt Dillon and Gunsmoke.)
There you have it. I have lost my innocence. By the way, I also shot gangster style.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
Holy haircut!
I suffered a new haircutter person this week. My former cutter of many years retired due to cancer. I decided to take a risk, spend more money than the usual $15 and try out the place getting all the publicity nowdays. Studio D, situated halfway between home and work. I made an appointment with Sarah somebody, the telephone Enthusiasm Queen. YES, she would love to touch my thin, fine, gray hair. OUCH!!! $35.00 minus $10.00 for being a new client. OK so---I walk in and right away notice:
1. My $35 will be paying for the gorgeous layout, decor, and streamside setting
2. My $35 will be paying for the drinks they keep plying while I wait for Sarah
3. My $35 is paying for a shampoo/conditioning/head massage that takes twice as long as I spend in the shower daily. But I concede the massage just might be worth it.
4. I am decades older than anyone (client or stylist) in the building.
5. The woman Sarah has just styled looks like a skunk. As in bright, bright blonde hair on top. Black, black roots & underneath hair. Sarah has evidently also fried the blonde parts with a straightener giving the top tuft a straw-like appearance. But the customer is happy and still preening before the mirror as she pins her hair into a perfect bump-top ponytail.
"What-the-heck" I think as I unfold the 2 photographs I pulled off the internet the night before. Go ahead, Sarah. Try and make my hair look like an approximation of these pictures. Sarah studies the pictures and says "mullet" under her breath. She questions me carefully about length of hair on my neck and here's where I make my fatal mistake. I tell her the length I want, but forget to mention how much my hair shrinks from wet to dry. WHACK go her scissors and there will never be a mullet again. Me and my naked neck are still in shock. However I do like the rest of the style and other people seem to be complimentary. Sarah used the straightener appliance on me too, so I have been using Arielle's here at home. I'm able to do a decent job of looking more contemporary, spikey, strawish or whatever.
Will I go back? I'm on the fence, mainly because of the price. By the way, this is such a fancy schmancy salon, they even scanned my internet photos into their computer, expecting they have snagged a lifetime customer.
Wouldn't it be great if we had a functional camera right now?
----------
Have I explained the latest about my work, the economy, and how CHI plans to handle things? Here goes.
After months and months of emails from CHI headquarters bemoaning their sorry state and how employment freezes, retirements, and possible layoffs are the order of the day, we are notified of a special meeting on May 1. On May 1, we meet for a power point presentation where we learn:
1. One year earlier, before the economy tanked, CHI paid $6 million for a consultant group to study the revenue-generating process in CHI's 81 hospitals.
2. The consultancy says CHI is missing out on a considerable chunk of cash because of poor registration procedures when a patient checks in.
(I won't explain that, but it is a legitimate problem area.)
3. Registration departments need to be trained and trained and trained. (Never mind that this is an area of high turnover because of the in-your-face-stress of handling emergency situations. You can train and train all you want and the next day, you might have all new employees because this month's hires gave up.)
4. In order to accomplish all this needed training, CHI will divide their 81 hospitals into 7 geographic area and HIRE 26 NEW EXECUTIVES to
administer the training.
5. How will the new exec's be paid? Why of course--with all the additional money generated by improved registration procedures.
6. There will be no layoffs for us.
Listening to this, I'm running a simple math equation in my head. X (new money generated) - Z (salaries of new execs) = $0 Why not just improve registration processes and make more money? You gotta love consultants. If they don't stir the pot, they're not doing their job. But at least I'm not losing my job. I just have to work harder to pay for more middlemen.
1. My $35 will be paying for the gorgeous layout, decor, and streamside setting
2. My $35 will be paying for the drinks they keep plying while I wait for Sarah
3. My $35 is paying for a shampoo/conditioning/head massage that takes twice as long as I spend in the shower daily. But I concede the massage just might be worth it.
4. I am decades older than anyone (client or stylist) in the building.
5. The woman Sarah has just styled looks like a skunk. As in bright, bright blonde hair on top. Black, black roots & underneath hair. Sarah has evidently also fried the blonde parts with a straightener giving the top tuft a straw-like appearance. But the customer is happy and still preening before the mirror as she pins her hair into a perfect bump-top ponytail.
"What-the-heck" I think as I unfold the 2 photographs I pulled off the internet the night before. Go ahead, Sarah. Try and make my hair look like an approximation of these pictures. Sarah studies the pictures and says "mullet" under her breath. She questions me carefully about length of hair on my neck and here's where I make my fatal mistake. I tell her the length I want, but forget to mention how much my hair shrinks from wet to dry. WHACK go her scissors and there will never be a mullet again. Me and my naked neck are still in shock. However I do like the rest of the style and other people seem to be complimentary. Sarah used the straightener appliance on me too, so I have been using Arielle's here at home. I'm able to do a decent job of looking more contemporary, spikey, strawish or whatever.
Will I go back? I'm on the fence, mainly because of the price. By the way, this is such a fancy schmancy salon, they even scanned my internet photos into their computer, expecting they have snagged a lifetime customer.
Wouldn't it be great if we had a functional camera right now?
----------
Have I explained the latest about my work, the economy, and how CHI plans to handle things? Here goes.
After months and months of emails from CHI headquarters bemoaning their sorry state and how employment freezes, retirements, and possible layoffs are the order of the day, we are notified of a special meeting on May 1. On May 1, we meet for a power point presentation where we learn:
1. One year earlier, before the economy tanked, CHI paid $6 million for a consultant group to study the revenue-generating process in CHI's 81 hospitals.
2. The consultancy says CHI is missing out on a considerable chunk of cash because of poor registration procedures when a patient checks in.
(I won't explain that, but it is a legitimate problem area.)
3. Registration departments need to be trained and trained and trained. (Never mind that this is an area of high turnover because of the in-your-face-stress of handling emergency situations. You can train and train all you want and the next day, you might have all new employees because this month's hires gave up.)
4. In order to accomplish all this needed training, CHI will divide their 81 hospitals into 7 geographic area and HIRE 26 NEW EXECUTIVES to
administer the training.
5. How will the new exec's be paid? Why of course--with all the additional money generated by improved registration procedures.
6. There will be no layoffs for us.
Listening to this, I'm running a simple math equation in my head. X (new money generated) - Z (salaries of new execs) = $0 Why not just improve registration processes and make more money? You gotta love consultants. If they don't stir the pot, they're not doing their job. But at least I'm not losing my job. I just have to work harder to pay for more middlemen.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Ode to the kitty
One of our cats was killed by a pitbull yesterday. She (the cat) was on the porch watching Kevin mow the lawn. Kevin saw the dog come from nowhere, running into our open garage to explore. The cat sort of stalked towards the garage to keep her eyes on the dog. The dog saw her and gave chase. She ran into the garage where he snapped her up, shook her, and came out with her still in his jaws. Kevin grabbed the garden hose and hosed him down. The dog dropped the cat and ran down the street.
She wasn't torn up, but she's an old frail cat and she was obviously dying. He called me out wondering what to do. She just laid on her side moaning. Within minutes she died. Kevin wrapped and put her in the garbage can.
Right then Chanel arrived from Boise for her family b-day party. This cat was her childhood pet, born in 1996.
We went in the house crying & Kevin continued mowing. About 10 minutes later a lady was walking her min-pin across the street from our house. The pitbull showed up again, spun the lady, grabbed her dog, shook it, and ran. Traffic stopped in both directions and Kevin called the police. Police & animal control officer arrived. The min pin lost a piece of one haunch and it's back skin was hanging. It wasn't dead but wouldn't let anyone touch it.
While the police took Kevin's & the lady's story, the pit bull owner showed up. He was a kid in his 20's who said the dog had escaped his yard through his open garage and had only been gone 10 minutes before coming home.
The owner was very upset to hear what the dog had done, but he signed papers to have it put down Monday morning and animal control hauled him off. Meanwhile the min-pin was rolled into a carrier box and taken to a vet.
That's the story. We're surprised by our grief for an animal and to have a member of the family gone so suddenly and so strangely. She was our bulemic cat whom I thought would die from old age or starvation eventually. Never occurred to me that sitting on the porch was dangerous. Our big cat, who is 2 years older and never cared for the other that much, has paced the floors tonight.
I will not miss Pooperki's carpet messes or her Siamese voice, but she was very affectionate and good to have on a lap when watching TV. She liked us. The big cat barely tolerates us.
She wasn't torn up, but she's an old frail cat and she was obviously dying. He called me out wondering what to do. She just laid on her side moaning. Within minutes she died. Kevin wrapped and put her in the garbage can.
Right then Chanel arrived from Boise for her family b-day party. This cat was her childhood pet, born in 1996.
We went in the house crying & Kevin continued mowing. About 10 minutes later a lady was walking her min-pin across the street from our house. The pitbull showed up again, spun the lady, grabbed her dog, shook it, and ran. Traffic stopped in both directions and Kevin called the police. Police & animal control officer arrived. The min pin lost a piece of one haunch and it's back skin was hanging. It wasn't dead but wouldn't let anyone touch it.
While the police took Kevin's & the lady's story, the pit bull owner showed up. He was a kid in his 20's who said the dog had escaped his yard through his open garage and had only been gone 10 minutes before coming home.
The owner was very upset to hear what the dog had done, but he signed papers to have it put down Monday morning and animal control hauled him off. Meanwhile the min-pin was rolled into a carrier box and taken to a vet.
That's the story. We're surprised by our grief for an animal and to have a member of the family gone so suddenly and so strangely. She was our bulemic cat whom I thought would die from old age or starvation eventually. Never occurred to me that sitting on the porch was dangerous. Our big cat, who is 2 years older and never cared for the other that much, has paced the floors tonight.
I will not miss Pooperki's carpet messes or her Siamese voice, but she was very affectionate and good to have on a lap when watching TV. She liked us. The big cat barely tolerates us.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Playing the odds
Prequel to the story: I work for Catholic Health Initiatives (CHI), a corporation which owns many,many hospitals all over the nation. My office is called a central billing office (CBO) because we bill for 8 hospitals. CHI has 3 CBOs in Nampa, Fargo, and Kentucky. My particular billing niche is commercial insurances such as all the Blue Cross plans + several dozen others insurances. Other coworkers bill the Medicare/Medicaid plans. And a third section of our office bills patients. All together we are expected to collect between $33-$36 million/monthly. The hospitals set the target--this is what it takes to keep their doors open, payrolls solvent, and capitol improvement projects funded. Generally we hit the goal, but there have been months (spread over the 8 years I've worked there) where we've missed by as much as
$4million in a month.
--------------
SO last week an email came from headquarters bemoaning the sorry state of the economy.
same old, same old. i.e. CHI's stock market investments are shriveling (just like everybody else's) so they can't use market profits to compensate for our collection shortfalls. With so many workers losing their jobs/insurances, patient censusses are down plus it's virtually impossible to get patients to pay big chunks of money such as an insurance company would.
Bottom line: There will be layoffs at the CBO. When or who? Nobody knows. There are 60 people in my office and management could spin the dice any which way. Going by seniority, I win. (Eight years is an eternity in my job.) Going by productivity level, I win again. Going by seniority in my particular dept, dicey. Going by steadfast personality (as opposed to drama, drama, drama) I really win. Going by cutest-grandchild-ever picture displays, I WIN BIG TIME!!!
Odds are I will stay employed. If not, I plan to turn alot of cartwheels to celebrate my freedom the first week. After that I guess I'll wake up & wonder why I didn't get
eyelids done and all those other surgeries that would have been free under my ins plan.
Stay tuned.............
$4million in a month.
--------------
SO last week an email came from headquarters bemoaning the sorry state of the economy.
same old, same old. i.e. CHI's stock market investments are shriveling (just like everybody else's) so they can't use market profits to compensate for our collection shortfalls. With so many workers losing their jobs/insurances, patient censusses are down plus it's virtually impossible to get patients to pay big chunks of money such as an insurance company would.
Bottom line: There will be layoffs at the CBO. When or who? Nobody knows. There are 60 people in my office and management could spin the dice any which way. Going by seniority, I win. (Eight years is an eternity in my job.) Going by productivity level, I win again. Going by seniority in my particular dept, dicey. Going by steadfast personality (as opposed to drama, drama, drama) I really win. Going by cutest-grandchild-ever picture displays, I WIN BIG TIME!!!
Odds are I will stay employed. If not, I plan to turn alot of cartwheels to celebrate my freedom the first week. After that I guess I'll wake up & wonder why I didn't get
eyelids done and all those other surgeries that would have been free under my ins plan.
Stay tuned.............
Sunday, December 28, 2008
What The Cat Thought
Aaron & Melanie were in Nampa for the holiday. They consented to loan Morgan to us for his first overnight sleepover.
We don't have a crib but I thought he would do fine in Arielle's bed. (She was at Chanel's house for the weekend.)
So I jammied Morgan and took him into Arielle's room. There, ensconsced on a heaping pile of quilts lay the cat, Dashaway. She owns this bed, all the other beds, the couch arms, and all patches of sunshine on the floors 24/7. She took one look at Morgan; he chirped, "kitty, kitty, kitty"; she put on her grump face, and scrammed away.
We proceeded to pray, read stories, sing, etc and Morgan was completely happy to snuggle down. I turned off the light, left the door cracked slightly, and what followed was 30 minutes of silence. I was pretty sure he was asleep.
Meanwhile the cat must have forgotten her bed had a new occupant and jumped on again. Presently I heard Morgan in the hall chirping, "kitty, kitty, kitty?'. Dashaway dashed and I put Morgan down again.
Dashaway barely tolerates her people (us) and has no love whatsoever for strangers. Evidently, short little strangers are even worse. She spent the next 24 hours skulking and scowling, ever on the defense for the Young Usurper.
Why DO we keep her?
We don't have a crib but I thought he would do fine in Arielle's bed. (She was at Chanel's house for the weekend.)
So I jammied Morgan and took him into Arielle's room. There, ensconsced on a heaping pile of quilts lay the cat, Dashaway. She owns this bed, all the other beds, the couch arms, and all patches of sunshine on the floors 24/7. She took one look at Morgan; he chirped, "kitty, kitty, kitty"; she put on her grump face, and scrammed away.
We proceeded to pray, read stories, sing, etc and Morgan was completely happy to snuggle down. I turned off the light, left the door cracked slightly, and what followed was 30 minutes of silence. I was pretty sure he was asleep.
Meanwhile the cat must have forgotten her bed had a new occupant and jumped on again. Presently I heard Morgan in the hall chirping, "kitty, kitty, kitty?'. Dashaway dashed and I put Morgan down again.
Dashaway barely tolerates her people (us) and has no love whatsoever for strangers. Evidently, short little strangers are even worse. She spent the next 24 hours skulking and scowling, ever on the defense for the Young Usurper.
Why DO we keep her?
Friday, December 19, 2008
I "saw" Grandpa Ison
An irrigation canal runs through our neighborhood. In warmer weather it's quite the hang-out for Mallards and geese because friendly people supply food.
Yesterday I was driving up the street when I saw a large white goose pacing about the curb next to the canal. But no--at closer range it was actually a very chubby and bright white Leghorn rooster. And a magnificent speciman he was, especially compared to the scraggly, manure-caked hens we grew up with.
I wondered why a rooster would be strolling the neighborhood. Nobody keeps chickens as pets. Nobody keeps chickens for food or eggs nowdays either. I had an incredible urge to pick him and bring him home.
I laughed. He must be a sign from God. (Who evidently dispenses humor along with His tender mercies.)
Yesterday I was driving up the street when I saw a large white goose pacing about the curb next to the canal. But no--at closer range it was actually a very chubby and bright white Leghorn rooster. And a magnificent speciman he was, especially compared to the scraggly, manure-caked hens we grew up with.
I wondered why a rooster would be strolling the neighborhood. Nobody keeps chickens as pets. Nobody keeps chickens for food or eggs nowdays either. I had an incredible urge to pick him and bring him home.
I laughed. He must be a sign from God. (Who evidently dispenses humor along with His tender mercies.)
Friday, December 5, 2008
Got more patience than a 2-yr-old?
Turns out I don't.
Aaron & Melanie took us on a grand tour of IKEA. Here's my description of IKEA. Teeny tiny bits of apartment furnishings in a GREAT BIG MONSTROSITY OF A STORE!!! Do you love to walk from Draper to Provo all under one roof? (And back again, because it's 2 floors.) Morgan does. He would make an excellent pioneer. I loved the looking but could have used a Sedgeway or Wickistick or wheelchair. Thanks goodness we sandwiched all this between visits to the IKEA restaurant for free breakfast and a Swedish meatballs lunch. By the way, this was Black Friday.
So we get back to A&M's apartment and I throw myself on their couch. Arielle, who has eked out $38.00 from her miniscule Subway wages and saved it for just such an occasion as Black Friday, says it's time for the University Mall. I had promised in a weak pre-Thanksgiving moment to take her to DEB, which has blue jeans her size and good sales. But after IKEA, I think clemency should be granted for lying to her. You are not getting me off this couch.
She begs, "But you promised and I want you to come and I need you to come!" repeat, repeat, repeat
Kevin throws in guilt, "Now Jana, you won't have that many more times of her wanting your company." "Well, heck", I think. I don't know which of the 3 people in this conversation I should be maddest at.
I surrender, with concessions.
Arielle pores over a map of the mall, finding the nearest entrance to Deb. Kevin drops us at the door. We walk two storefronts to Deb. She finds 2 perfect pair of jeans + a gorgeous blouse (marked down from $31.00 to $9.00) next door at Maurices, and we are DONE. May I never step foot in another mall on Black Friday.
You know what my favorite Christmas was? When Arianne & Ciarran did all my shopping for me. I had a hysterectomy as an excuse that year.
You want to be my new favorite niece? Come see me before Christmas.
Aaron & Melanie took us on a grand tour of IKEA. Here's my description of IKEA. Teeny tiny bits of apartment furnishings in a GREAT BIG MONSTROSITY OF A STORE!!! Do you love to walk from Draper to Provo all under one roof? (And back again, because it's 2 floors.) Morgan does. He would make an excellent pioneer. I loved the looking but could have used a Sedgeway or Wickistick or wheelchair. Thanks goodness we sandwiched all this between visits to the IKEA restaurant for free breakfast and a Swedish meatballs lunch. By the way, this was Black Friday.
So we get back to A&M's apartment and I throw myself on their couch. Arielle, who has eked out $38.00 from her miniscule Subway wages and saved it for just such an occasion as Black Friday, says it's time for the University Mall. I had promised in a weak pre-Thanksgiving moment to take her to DEB, which has blue jeans her size and good sales. But after IKEA, I think clemency should be granted for lying to her. You are not getting me off this couch.
She begs, "But you promised and I want you to come and I need you to come!" repeat, repeat, repeat
Kevin throws in guilt, "Now Jana, you won't have that many more times of her wanting your company." "Well, heck", I think. I don't know which of the 3 people in this conversation I should be maddest at.
I surrender, with concessions.
Arielle pores over a map of the mall, finding the nearest entrance to Deb. Kevin drops us at the door. We walk two storefronts to Deb. She finds 2 perfect pair of jeans + a gorgeous blouse (marked down from $31.00 to $9.00) next door at Maurices, and we are DONE. May I never step foot in another mall on Black Friday.
You know what my favorite Christmas was? When Arianne & Ciarran did all my shopping for me. I had a hysterectomy as an excuse that year.
You want to be my new favorite niece? Come see me before Christmas.
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