Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The Tree Beyond Which There Is No Passing
While my life is busy falling apart at the seams and everywhere else, I remembered something I learned the other day about people whose cars go off the road. There is something about the human brain that caused people to focus on any object, and to steer in the direction of that object. That's why, when the car goes off the road and all there is out there is a field and a tree or a telephone pole, nine times out of ten the car hits the tree.
So all the time I feel threatened with losing my house or my job or anything else, I need to focus on a different tree.
Baha'u'llah is [among hundreds of other titles] the Sadrat'ul-Muntaha*, the "Tree Beyond Which There Is No Passing." That's the tree I need to focus on.
In a conversation the other day I was whining that "I don't know what God wants me to do!" At that particular time I listened to my inner voice, which said, "Let go!" Let go, and focus on the correct tree.
*I'm typing this title from memory, so I hope the spelling is correct.
So all the time I feel threatened with losing my house or my job or anything else, I need to focus on a different tree.
Baha'u'llah is [among hundreds of other titles] the Sadrat'ul-Muntaha*, the "Tree Beyond Which There Is No Passing." That's the tree I need to focus on.
In a conversation the other day I was whining that "I don't know what God wants me to do!" At that particular time I listened to my inner voice, which said, "Let go!" Let go, and focus on the correct tree.
*I'm typing this title from memory, so I hope the spelling is correct.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
I Dreamed Christ Returned
This is true: last night I dreamed our good Lord, Jesus Christ, returned to Earth. He had good memories of healing people, so He decided to be a nurse [remember His great humility, that's why He didn't become a doctor.]
So He was working in a nursing home, and sure enough, the very first night a patient fell, and He had to write up an incident report, one of those detailed forms devised to punish nurses for ever letting anything surprising happen to their patients.
He did an outstanding job, dotting every "t" and crossing every "i." It was perfect. So the other nurses asked Him, "Lord, how come you know so well how to write up an incident report?"
He said, "Well, what's the first thing that the nurses say every time you have to do an incident report? 'Oh, Jesus Christ!!' "
So He was working in a nursing home, and sure enough, the very first night a patient fell, and He had to write up an incident report, one of those detailed forms devised to punish nurses for ever letting anything surprising happen to their patients.
He did an outstanding job, dotting every "t" and crossing every "i." It was perfect. So the other nurses asked Him, "Lord, how come you know so well how to write up an incident report?"
He said, "Well, what's the first thing that the nurses say every time you have to do an incident report? 'Oh, Jesus Christ!!' "
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Lick Out The Kettle
My life feels as if it's flying apart in all directions, but I had one shining day today in the middle of it. Last night I went to Eatonville after work [I get off work about 10 PM] and arrived in time for Enayat's late dinner of fried onions and potatoes. I don't know if he knew what he was doing, but he had carmelized the onions before adding the potatoes, then cooked them until they were meltingly tender. Delicious! It gave me some ideas.
I awoke to Enayat telling me about a character in Iran that comes out today, several days before Naw-Ruz: "Haji Firuz." Naw-Ruz, New Years, is not Islamic, nor Zoroastrian, but uniquely, simply, Persian. Persian and ancient. The day of Naw-Ruz as Baha'is celebrate it, anyway, is March 21, this Sunday. It follows a period of spiritual renewal marked by fasting, and is a welcome venue for the return of spring.
I had an appointment in Tacoma at 11:00, and I also wanted to do some beading, so I quickly went to the sewing/beading room in while I was in Eatonville and selected some coordinating beads, which gave me exactly an hour to make it to my appointment. Which I did with five minutes to spare. Afterwards I stopped by Popeye's Chicken and had some red beans and rice; I've never eaten at Popeye's before. I could tell there was pork [i.e. lard] in it but it tasted good for "fast food." Then I met with my auto insurance agent to begin coverage with a more affordable policy.
At home I got into the beading. The other day I was at the Bead Factory in Tacoma and scored some exquisitely carved wooden beads in the shapes of various animals [I was looking for my totem, a camel.] I think they are all by the same artist, and he puts his initials on them. I got some camels, elephants, a rhino, etc.
For Pearl I selected a seal or sea lion mother and pup together, and strung them on silk thread with coordinating wooden and bone beads, with one or two amber-colored glass and a few metal "bright" accents. I presented it to her as a surprise and she seemed delighted. Then I napped, as I seem not to ever get more than six hours sleep a night.
That left me with about an hour and a half to do some quick cooking. Because I am so busy I said a quick prayer to "make of my effort a prayer" while I cooked. I had put some kidney beans to soak last night; I also wanted to try green beans in the pressure cooker, as well as some apples for applesauce. I decided to make some "red beans and rice," without the rice. I didn't want to take time to make the rice, but I would have made brown rice. Oh, man, those beans were so good I wanted to lick out the kettle. I swear I saw my daughter lick the plate.
I hope I can remember what I put in them, but here goes:
Lick the Kettle Red Beans
Soaked red kidney beans [two cups dry beans, soaked]
one onion, cut up
two stalks celery [there should be green peppers but I didn't have any]
several cloves of garlic, peeled
cumin, coriander, oregano, basil, cayenne pepper
In the base of the pressure cooker pot, add two tablespoons olive oil and the onions and celery. Saute on medium to low heat until onions are past the transparency stage and turning brown and sweet. Add seasonings, garlic and beans, and just enough water, about one to 1 1/2 cups, to create a nice gravy and enough liquid to steam the beans. Put on lid and cook at full pressure ten minutes. Take off heat and let pressure release naturally.
When the lid can be removed, stir in:
A dash of cider vinegar, a drizzle of agave syrup, several dashes of green Tabasco sauce, and at least half to one teaspoon liquid smoke. Salt to taste. Simmer ten minutes to combine flavors.
[In my pressure cooker cookbook they recommend to leave out salt and acidic things during the pressure cooking, because somehow they retard the cooking process.]
In the meantime I trimmed some green beans, which I pressure cooked in the smaller cooker [I only have one lid, but two pans, so I have to wait for each dish to cool before cooking the next] with sliced almonds, a tiny pinch of rosemary, dill, and some liquid smoke. After it was done I added salt to taste. I cooked the green beans ten minutes as well, as I like them very tender.
While the green beans cooked I cut up two pounds or so of Granny Smith apples for applesauce, which is now cooling down and I haven't tasted. Whenever I cut up apples, I remember cutting up apples, other fruit and vegetables with my mother. She has large, strong hands, and she moved quick as lightning with her paring knife. Nobody used french knives then. I always felt slow and awkward. She had been cutting things up her whole life. She never minded if we were slow.
Good memories, and a good day.
I awoke to Enayat telling me about a character in Iran that comes out today, several days before Naw-Ruz: "Haji Firuz." Naw-Ruz, New Years, is not Islamic, nor Zoroastrian, but uniquely, simply, Persian. Persian and ancient. The day of Naw-Ruz as Baha'is celebrate it, anyway, is March 21, this Sunday. It follows a period of spiritual renewal marked by fasting, and is a welcome venue for the return of spring.
I had an appointment in Tacoma at 11:00, and I also wanted to do some beading, so I quickly went to the sewing/beading room in while I was in Eatonville and selected some coordinating beads, which gave me exactly an hour to make it to my appointment. Which I did with five minutes to spare. Afterwards I stopped by Popeye's Chicken and had some red beans and rice; I've never eaten at Popeye's before. I could tell there was pork [i.e. lard] in it but it tasted good for "fast food." Then I met with my auto insurance agent to begin coverage with a more affordable policy.
At home I got into the beading. The other day I was at the Bead Factory in Tacoma and scored some exquisitely carved wooden beads in the shapes of various animals [I was looking for my totem, a camel.] I think they are all by the same artist, and he puts his initials on them. I got some camels, elephants, a rhino, etc.
For Pearl I selected a seal or sea lion mother and pup together, and strung them on silk thread with coordinating wooden and bone beads, with one or two amber-colored glass and a few metal "bright" accents. I presented it to her as a surprise and she seemed delighted. Then I napped, as I seem not to ever get more than six hours sleep a night.
That left me with about an hour and a half to do some quick cooking. Because I am so busy I said a quick prayer to "make of my effort a prayer" while I cooked. I had put some kidney beans to soak last night; I also wanted to try green beans in the pressure cooker, as well as some apples for applesauce. I decided to make some "red beans and rice," without the rice. I didn't want to take time to make the rice, but I would have made brown rice. Oh, man, those beans were so good I wanted to lick out the kettle. I swear I saw my daughter lick the plate.
I hope I can remember what I put in them, but here goes:
Lick the Kettle Red Beans
Soaked red kidney beans [two cups dry beans, soaked]
one onion, cut up
two stalks celery [there should be green peppers but I didn't have any]
several cloves of garlic, peeled
cumin, coriander, oregano, basil, cayenne pepper
In the base of the pressure cooker pot, add two tablespoons olive oil and the onions and celery. Saute on medium to low heat until onions are past the transparency stage and turning brown and sweet. Add seasonings, garlic and beans, and just enough water, about one to 1 1/2 cups, to create a nice gravy and enough liquid to steam the beans. Put on lid and cook at full pressure ten minutes. Take off heat and let pressure release naturally.
When the lid can be removed, stir in:
A dash of cider vinegar, a drizzle of agave syrup, several dashes of green Tabasco sauce, and at least half to one teaspoon liquid smoke. Salt to taste. Simmer ten minutes to combine flavors.
[In my pressure cooker cookbook they recommend to leave out salt and acidic things during the pressure cooking, because somehow they retard the cooking process.]
In the meantime I trimmed some green beans, which I pressure cooked in the smaller cooker [I only have one lid, but two pans, so I have to wait for each dish to cool before cooking the next] with sliced almonds, a tiny pinch of rosemary, dill, and some liquid smoke. After it was done I added salt to taste. I cooked the green beans ten minutes as well, as I like them very tender.
While the green beans cooked I cut up two pounds or so of Granny Smith apples for applesauce, which is now cooling down and I haven't tasted. Whenever I cut up apples, I remember cutting up apples, other fruit and vegetables with my mother. She has large, strong hands, and she moved quick as lightning with her paring knife. Nobody used french knives then. I always felt slow and awkward. She had been cutting things up her whole life. She never minded if we were slow.
Good memories, and a good day.
Don't Pinch Me
I grew up knowing March 17th as the day adults sanctioned children to pinch each other. The rule was that you must wear green on Saint Patrick's Day or people were entitled to pinch you. I didn't even know who St. Patrick was or that it involved Ireland. I just knew the tiny piece of terror about not getting pinched.
One time when I was eleven I wore all orange and pinned on a green shamrock. I remember children speculating if they could remove the shamrock so I could get pinched.
Okay, people don't usually die from being pinched. What's the big deal? What kind of a wuss was I to worry about it?
One who had grown up with a significant level of emotional and physical abuse. Who had no defense against violating my boundaries.
I don't know if this culture is still going on in schools, but I say it's time to stop it if it is. Anyway, enjoy being Irish if you are and being pseudo-Irish if you are playing that way, enjoy your green beer, and all.
A parting shot: I really, really hate leprichauns.
One time when I was eleven I wore all orange and pinned on a green shamrock. I remember children speculating if they could remove the shamrock so I could get pinched.
Okay, people don't usually die from being pinched. What's the big deal? What kind of a wuss was I to worry about it?
One who had grown up with a significant level of emotional and physical abuse. Who had no defense against violating my boundaries.
I don't know if this culture is still going on in schools, but I say it's time to stop it if it is. Anyway, enjoy being Irish if you are and being pseudo-Irish if you are playing that way, enjoy your green beer, and all.
A parting shot: I really, really hate leprichauns.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Still Here
Okay, here's why I haven't blogged in awhile. I worked Saturday, Sunday, Monday and today. I have one day off and I go back to work Thursday and Friday. I'm too tired.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Two Old Stories
A Hundred and Two
When I first started at Homeland, I was calling the Consulting Nurses about a new admission and all I wanted was to contact the doctor to verify her admission orders. I had never called them before, and I wasn't familiar with the process of having to give them a lot of background information. I thought they would just put me through to the doctor, and I became impatient. So when the consulting nurse heard the person's birthdate, she said, "Wow, she's a hundred and two!" And out of my mouth came, "Yes, that's why I'd like to speak to the doctor while she's still alive."
They sent a complaint to us, because the nurse was offended, and I had to write a pretty and contrite apology to the nurse and say I never meant to hurt her feelings [I didn't.] I just couldn't resist a cheap shot.
Usually I'm horribly mortified when I get written up, but to this day I still think it was worth it.
The "Y" Dance
Tonight one of the nursing assistants remembered working with a gentleman in rehab who was a hundred and ten. He was able, fit, and agile. One day he said to her, "Let me show you the 'Y' Dance. First you put your hand on my shoulder, and I put my hand on your hip, and we snuggle up . . . " Then he said in her ear, "Now. Why dance?"
When I first started at Homeland, I was calling the Consulting Nurses about a new admission and all I wanted was to contact the doctor to verify her admission orders. I had never called them before, and I wasn't familiar with the process of having to give them a lot of background information. I thought they would just put me through to the doctor, and I became impatient. So when the consulting nurse heard the person's birthdate, she said, "Wow, she's a hundred and two!" And out of my mouth came, "Yes, that's why I'd like to speak to the doctor while she's still alive."
They sent a complaint to us, because the nurse was offended, and I had to write a pretty and contrite apology to the nurse and say I never meant to hurt her feelings [I didn't.] I just couldn't resist a cheap shot.
Usually I'm horribly mortified when I get written up, but to this day I still think it was worth it.
The "Y" Dance
Tonight one of the nursing assistants remembered working with a gentleman in rehab who was a hundred and ten. He was able, fit, and agile. One day he said to her, "Let me show you the 'Y' Dance. First you put your hand on my shoulder, and I put my hand on your hip, and we snuggle up . . . " Then he said in her ear, "Now. Why dance?"
Baha'i: A Home, Or A Storefront?
Here I am at 0423 trying to sleep, and instead realized what I want to say here. So here I am.
"Is the Baha'i Faith a truly tolerant religion?"
There are two ways to look at the Faith of God: a store which you hope has what you need for this day, or a home.
I think many of us got here having looked for a religion that meets our agenda. I certainly did. And I found that I agreed with the basic principles of the Faith that most people are now aware of: humankind is one; women and men have an equal spiritual stature and place in the world; there is only one race, the human race; it's time for war to end; and so forth. These principles were big news when they were revealed in the 1840's and '50's. And they certainly attracted me to the Baha'i Faith in the 1970's. But looking for a religion which lines up with your own beliefs and convictions only can take you so far.
The Baha'i Faith does dual duty: it is both very old, and very new.
It is old because, "This is the ancient Faith of God, eternal in the past, eternal in the future." The Faith of God is one faith. God being the Unknowable Essence, the Creator, is not accessible directly. "I am the path of God," says Baha'u'llah. There is always a perfect Mirror reflecting the teachings of God which are appropriate for a particular age and place. India had some. Palestine had some. Probably every continent in the dim reaches of the past has had these Beings reflecting the light of God, founding civilizations, many forgotten in past ages.
This is the new day of God, this time with teachings for the whole earth, and perfect for the time in which we live. If we were comfortable with God's message for today we wouldn't need it. Sooner or later, my guess is that every Baha'i, when they were investigating the Faith, came across at least one teaching, one law, that made them go, "hey, whoa! I don't believe that, I'm not ready for that!"
I probably had about ten of them in my first ten years. I was seventeen, I came from a very strict family, I was ready to show my independence by drinking alcohol, experimenting with drugs, seeing if I could get some physical affection to heal the hurt I felt inside. I was powerfully attracted to the message of the Faith, but then I found out there were laws. I wasn't pleased. I was shopping.
The real question to ask, when investigating the Baha'i Faith, is: "Is Baha'u'llah Who He says He is, or not?"
Nobody can answer that question for anyone else. We can help, guide, answer questions, inform, and hold hands, but each individual must decide that for herself. There's never any force involved. This is the time of free choice. I encourage everyone to vigorously investigate the truth, independently, for himself.
Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in.
When a person recognizes the Manifestation of God for the day in which they live, and choose to follow that Individual, a change occurs within them. A light is turned on. "Thy heart is My home." "For thus the Master of the house hath appeared within His home, and all the pillars of the dwelling are ashine with His light."
That is when you know you are home. Welcome home.
"Is the Baha'i Faith a truly tolerant religion?"
There are two ways to look at the Faith of God: a store which you hope has what you need for this day, or a home.
I think many of us got here having looked for a religion that meets our agenda. I certainly did. And I found that I agreed with the basic principles of the Faith that most people are now aware of: humankind is one; women and men have an equal spiritual stature and place in the world; there is only one race, the human race; it's time for war to end; and so forth. These principles were big news when they were revealed in the 1840's and '50's. And they certainly attracted me to the Baha'i Faith in the 1970's. But looking for a religion which lines up with your own beliefs and convictions only can take you so far.
The Baha'i Faith does dual duty: it is both very old, and very new.
It is old because, "This is the ancient Faith of God, eternal in the past, eternal in the future." The Faith of God is one faith. God being the Unknowable Essence, the Creator, is not accessible directly. "I am the path of God," says Baha'u'llah. There is always a perfect Mirror reflecting the teachings of God which are appropriate for a particular age and place. India had some. Palestine had some. Probably every continent in the dim reaches of the past has had these Beings reflecting the light of God, founding civilizations, many forgotten in past ages.
This is the new day of God, this time with teachings for the whole earth, and perfect for the time in which we live. If we were comfortable with God's message for today we wouldn't need it. Sooner or later, my guess is that every Baha'i, when they were investigating the Faith, came across at least one teaching, one law, that made them go, "hey, whoa! I don't believe that, I'm not ready for that!"
I probably had about ten of them in my first ten years. I was seventeen, I came from a very strict family, I was ready to show my independence by drinking alcohol, experimenting with drugs, seeing if I could get some physical affection to heal the hurt I felt inside. I was powerfully attracted to the message of the Faith, but then I found out there were laws. I wasn't pleased. I was shopping.
The real question to ask, when investigating the Baha'i Faith, is: "Is Baha'u'llah Who He says He is, or not?"
Nobody can answer that question for anyone else. We can help, guide, answer questions, inform, and hold hands, but each individual must decide that for herself. There's never any force involved. This is the time of free choice. I encourage everyone to vigorously investigate the truth, independently, for himself.
Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in.
When a person recognizes the Manifestation of God for the day in which they live, and choose to follow that Individual, a change occurs within them. A light is turned on. "Thy heart is My home." "For thus the Master of the house hath appeared within His home, and all the pillars of the dwelling are ashine with His light."
That is when you know you are home. Welcome home.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Better To Have No Religion Than To Fight
200 people killed in Jos, Nigeria over religious differences. Muslims versus Christians.
Religion should unite all hearts and cause wars and disputes to vanish from the face of the earth; it should give birth to spirituality, and bring light and life to every soul. If religion becomes a cause of dislike, hatred and division it would be better to be without it, and to withdraw from such a religion would be a truly religious act. For it is clear that the purpose of a remedy is to cure, but if the remedy only aggravates the complaint, it had better be left alone.
~'Abdu'l-Baha
Religion should unite all hearts and cause wars and disputes to vanish from the face of the earth; it should give birth to spirituality, and bring light and life to every soul. If religion becomes a cause of dislike, hatred and division it would be better to be without it, and to withdraw from such a religion would be a truly religious act. For it is clear that the purpose of a remedy is to cure, but if the remedy only aggravates the complaint, it had better be left alone.
~'Abdu'l-Baha
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Nothing Brilliant
Sometimes I have a well-thought out essay. Sometimes I just journal.
For the Fast, since I haven't tolerated fasting due to low blood sugar for several years, this year I am giving up something I never should do to begin with: backbiting.
At midnight, when I can, I say a certain "prayer of great power" I received from a friend on the internet, which I won't quote because of uncertain authenticity. It involves making a petition, saying a prayer, then following with 95 repetitions of the Greatest Name of God, "God is Most Glorious," "Allah-u-Abha" in Arabic. Usually I have a number of petitions, which I lump together, or it would take all night.
To help release me from the terrible habit of backbiting, which I learned at my parents' knees, first I ask that I stop enjoying backbiting, then I ask that I will stop wanting to do it, then that I will stop doing it. Then the prayer and the recitation of the Greatest Name. Then during the day I stay mindful of my promise to myself to stop.
It is interesting that I, almost as an observer, hear comments come to my mind, then I realize the nature of the comment, and ask myself if there is any reason to make the comment, and find that I don't want to after all. I also realize that I have been the primary purveyor of this sort of talk at work. Things are more peaceful and quiet since then.
This is a deeply ingrained habit, and I hold no illusion that just in a few days I have this licked, but I intend to keep on as long as is necessary. Keep praying for me.
For the Fast, since I haven't tolerated fasting due to low blood sugar for several years, this year I am giving up something I never should do to begin with: backbiting.
At midnight, when I can, I say a certain "prayer of great power" I received from a friend on the internet, which I won't quote because of uncertain authenticity. It involves making a petition, saying a prayer, then following with 95 repetitions of the Greatest Name of God, "God is Most Glorious," "Allah-u-Abha" in Arabic. Usually I have a number of petitions, which I lump together, or it would take all night.
To help release me from the terrible habit of backbiting, which I learned at my parents' knees, first I ask that I stop enjoying backbiting, then I ask that I will stop wanting to do it, then that I will stop doing it. Then the prayer and the recitation of the Greatest Name. Then during the day I stay mindful of my promise to myself to stop.
It is interesting that I, almost as an observer, hear comments come to my mind, then I realize the nature of the comment, and ask myself if there is any reason to make the comment, and find that I don't want to after all. I also realize that I have been the primary purveyor of this sort of talk at work. Things are more peaceful and quiet since then.
This is a deeply ingrained habit, and I hold no illusion that just in a few days I have this licked, but I intend to keep on as long as is necessary. Keep praying for me.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Live, or Memorex?
Many people who disbelieve in God do so because they hold the point of view that to believe in God would absolve one of accountability or responsibility for their lives or their choices, and that would not be acceptable. So they have to have gotten here spontaneously, naturally, like a mushroom, instead of being created. Which is not such a bad thing, either. I wouldn't have any objection to it.
One time about ten or twenty years ago my friend BJ said something that astounded me at the time. "God helps everybody, not just people who believe in Him." I suppose it sounds really arrogant, but I had never thought of that.
I rely on God more and more in my life. Even several years ago in nursing school I was praying every time I took a test. Would God have allowed me to pass my state boards if I really was unqualified? I think, no. Then I realize that, for all I know, He might allow this to happen all the time. So it's interesting to think about what defines "help", and what is the will of God.
When I had a difficult home health case with a very manipulative client who had an overbearing, controlling husband, I had to say prayers for 45 minutes every morning just to make it through a single day. I know, because in the two or three years I worked this case, I skipped my prayers just once, and I barely made it emotionally. Which begs the question why I didn't just find a different case? Lack of confidence. It can't have hurt me to say so many prayers, also.
So if God helps everybody [whether they want His help or not], which proportion of their lives did they create independently, and which proportion did they have help on? Which part of my life is live, and which is Memorex?
We can't tell.
This is a humbling thought. All the time I am, in my prayers, turning my life over to God, I'm already there.
One time about ten or twenty years ago my friend BJ said something that astounded me at the time. "God helps everybody, not just people who believe in Him." I suppose it sounds really arrogant, but I had never thought of that.
I rely on God more and more in my life. Even several years ago in nursing school I was praying every time I took a test. Would God have allowed me to pass my state boards if I really was unqualified? I think, no. Then I realize that, for all I know, He might allow this to happen all the time. So it's interesting to think about what defines "help", and what is the will of God.
When I had a difficult home health case with a very manipulative client who had an overbearing, controlling husband, I had to say prayers for 45 minutes every morning just to make it through a single day. I know, because in the two or three years I worked this case, I skipped my prayers just once, and I barely made it emotionally. Which begs the question why I didn't just find a different case? Lack of confidence. It can't have hurt me to say so many prayers, also.
So if God helps everybody [whether they want His help or not], which proportion of their lives did they create independently, and which proportion did they have help on? Which part of my life is live, and which is Memorex?
We can't tell.
This is a humbling thought. All the time I am, in my prayers, turning my life over to God, I'm already there.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Hold The Phone
Hang on, I'm working on a post.
In the meantime, heard in report yesterday about two separate residents who literally dropped dead at Homeland Saturday. One was eating chocolate one moment, and the next, the brand new graduate nurse was shaking her and calling for a nurse, "I can't get her to respond!" The CNA's politely reminded her that she is a nurse.
The other was in the dining room and fell out of his chair. They had a big hooraw, the kitchen phoned 911 to the disgust of the fire department ["what do you want us to do?"] and finally someone with some common sense found a way to remove the resident from the dining room so people could eat.
Anyway, hang on, I'm working on something inspired by one of these Christian flyers.
In the meantime, heard in report yesterday about two separate residents who literally dropped dead at Homeland Saturday. One was eating chocolate one moment, and the next, the brand new graduate nurse was shaking her and calling for a nurse, "I can't get her to respond!" The CNA's politely reminded her that she is a nurse.
The other was in the dining room and fell out of his chair. They had a big hooraw, the kitchen phoned 911 to the disgust of the fire department ["what do you want us to do?"] and finally someone with some common sense found a way to remove the resident from the dining room so people could eat.
Anyway, hang on, I'm working on something inspired by one of these Christian flyers.
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