24- It’s here, the final push toward the end of the semester. Isn’t it hateful?

Depending on when your university or college marks the start of the semester you may be 13 weeks in or 10 into the semester. Considering a semester is usually 15 weeks, with an extra week for finals, you may be nearly there at the end of the semester.

Regardless of how many weeks, anything after 10 is practically useless.

Your grades are set, for the most part. Only a miracle can bring you up an entire grade. Only a disaster can plunge you into failing, depending on where your grades usually hover.

I think this is the hardest part of the semester. Students are tired. Teachers are tired. Administrators are tired. We are all tired.

This year is especially taxing because someone put a very pivotal election in the middle of the semester. While not all students are up on their politics, they are probably aware enough to pick up on the durm and strang that is at a boil at the moment. Reminder, the literal translation of durm and strang is that there is a storm and stress. The Germans really know their way around a phrase

And it took me 5 times to type durm and retype durm after the autocorrect that I didn’t ask for changed it to drum. FIVE times. No wonder we’re tired.

It is too soon to start planning your winter break and too late to “fix” your grades. But you should have bought your plane ticket home weeks ago. You know, for the best price.

It is too soon to start planning for the Summer semester. Planning for Spring? That started almost as soon as the Fall semester started. Planning for graduation? That started before your first class, dear.

No wonder we are tired.

And stressed.

According to the dictionary being tired and stressed at the same time means we are burned out.

Writing as a long-term healthcare professional of 26 years and a nurse for 23 years, my first response is no shit.

Writing as a long-term student who is on her third degree in ten years, my first response is no shit.

Take a deep breath.

This is where the mantra the only way out is through is useful.

Insert whatever mantra you use here.

Just keep swimming.

FFS Friday 11/15/24-New day in the rotation

Yes, FFS means what you think it means.

It means that we Females are tired of the bullshit.

It means that Feminism is alive and well.

It means that we will Fight the new world order that is trying to stuff us into itty bitty boxes because it makes the boys feel better.

It means that we will not Stop until we regain bodily autonomy.

Care to join me?

There will be swearing.

Oh, so much swearing.

Sorry, mom.

Unlike Tuesday Top of Mind, which is overtly political but not necessarily all female all the time, this will be an entirely specific female space for female voice (me) writing about what fresh hell has been dropped on us.

Buckle up, girls, even the ones that voted for the Orange Menace.

You didn’t think your vote gave you any special privileges did you?

You have much to learn.

Best Kept Secrets of the OR #14- You can be friendly, but not friends

There should always be a bit of mystique with your leaders.

You should not be too buddy-buddy with your leaders. Like, at all. Never, not gonna do it.

I’ve seen OR staff ruined because they misunderstood their boss’ friendliness.

Why?

Because some bosses only cultivate close relationships to gain intelligence from the rest of the staff. After all, you can trust me, I’m the manager. No, sometimes you can’t trust the boss to have your best interests at heart when it comes time to make big decisions for the departments.

All of a sudden there can be a new tech or nurse in the department and you are shunted off into the cold without any benefits from befriending the boss. Because they are now the boss’ friend.

Of course, this can go both ways.

Some people go out of their way to befriend their boss. To get a better assignment, to get a better schedule, to be able to “rat” out those they don’t like.

You know, so they can undermine someone they don’t like.

But, in my experience, this is to get a better assignment or to become a lounge lizard because no one would yell at the boss’ friend. I take that back, it is also be complain about those they don’t like.

What is even worse is when the boss is in the in-crowd and making decisions based on their bestie’s desires.

Remember, friendly but not friends.

Because if you are friends with your manager and they leave the hospital and all of a sudden you have a new manager who has a different policy on friendship, what then? And the old manager, that you thought you were friends with is nowhere to be seen.

Drat, all those hours babysitting down the drain.

Friendly but not friends.

Tuesday Top of mind 11/12/24- My body, my choice

Well, last week happened.

The best I’ve heard/seen is that “I knew a lot of men hated women, but I didn’t realize how many women hated women”.

I mean hated/feared same thing, right?

Women didn’t show up for other women, instead they voted for some nebulous promise to make eggs cheaper?

Yes, inflation sucked, sucks, and will continue to suck.

But the seeds of inflation started in 2017 when the transfer of power began and the kowtowing began to those rich in money, but not in morals, started immediately. Tax cuts for the wealthiest ring a bell?

And the covid pandemic, you remember the covid pandemic don’t you? Well, that just accelerated the inflation that had already begun.

Again, inflation sucks.

Suddenly our buying power is a lot less than it was. And don’t get me started on shrinkflation where what once a 24 oz bag of chips, became a 22 oz bag of chips, and a 20 oz bag of chips, and even a 16 oz bag of chips. I am conjecturing here, I don’t buy chips. But I do notice that money gets you a lot less these days.

But the fed was digging us out of the hole we were in. And it was working, faster and better than it had in just about every other country in the world. It was painful, I’ll admit. More painful for those who have less.

And the 2024 general election happened. Lies, lies, and more lies were told.

And immediately entitled men started showing their ass, chanting your body, my choice as if that was a thing.

No, my dude.

No, it is not.

No, we won’t date you.

No, we won’t sleep with you.

Just, no.

You can’t make women do anything we don’t want to do with threats of violence or of taking away choice. What are they going to try? To get rid of Roe? Too late. They’ve already done that and we are still fighting for all the women who can’t fight and all the babies they want to torture. But that’s another post for another day.

I admit I have blocked people with this “Your Body, my choice” attitude on my personal FB page. And I’d do it again and will probably have to.

The backlash against this limp dicked energy was swift.

I don’t choose to entertain their delusions of grandeur.

MY body, MY choice.

May your god of choice have mercy on your souls.

Post-it Sunday 11/10/24- me and the marathon

This also is an unusual post-it post.

This is taken exactly, word for word from one of my written to-self notes.

I used to be a runner.

Well, I say a runner.

I was more of a shuffler.

But I participated! And completed 1 full marathon, 12 or so half marathons, one 12-K, several 10Ks, and innumerable 5Ks. A sprint triathlon and I was aiming for a half Ironman in the next year.

And then school beckoned and I fell out of like with the sport.

*** will indicate my current thoughts.

Denied.

7 miles into the half marathon my knees started to lock. The IT band tightening with every footfall. Each time my foot hit the ground the word “denied” sounded in my head.

Not the marathon one wants.

Up until then it had been a great race. 7 miles down in an hour and 10 minutes.

*** see, I told you I was a shuffler.

All my training, hours on the trail, and sweat had me on a great PR (personal record) pace.

Then I was effectively hobbled by knee pain. It took me 1 hour to do the last 3 miles.

*** for those playing along, this is half the pace I had been on.

*** also, this is not a marathon story, this is supposed to be a half marathon story.

Denied.

I wasn’t even supposed to be doing the half. I had an actual 26.2 marathon planned in five weeks. But if you did the half and the full in the same calendar year, you were promised a THIRD medal. And I love race swag. All the medals

Hubris brought me down. No matter that this run was supposed to be the week’s long run.

I limped back to the car and contemplated my lot.

I could still attempt the full marathon in 5 weeks. My training had been going so well. Miles were stacking up and I did not have any warning from my body that it had had enough. My long run was up to 19 miles. I was slow but I endured.

If I tried the marathon on legs that would still be recovering from today I would probably be swept into the DNF (did not finish) pack. I’ve never had a DNF. But 5 weeks is not enough time to rest my legs and rehab from this fresh hell. I could really injure myself if I continued

My car was the last in the parking lot. I don’t know what that says, but it was then that I decided that this year’s marathon was not for me.

I withdrew.

Present day me again. I did a full marathon 9 months after this. I ran in the debut All-American Marathon in Fayetteville, NC at the Army base. That was thrilling.

After I fell in the operating room in September 2019 and had a deep bone bruise to my left knee I have never run another race. We all know what happened in 2020.

Running doesn’t miss me, but sometimes I miss it.

Not really but I will get back out there sometime. Currently, I prefer to box or bike anyway.

You know, solitary endeavors.

School Me Saturday 11/9/24-empathy

This is a warning!

Heed it well.

The more you are educated and the more you seek out education, the more empathy you find yourself experiencing.

Think about it.

At the collegiate level, you are exposed to ideas that you have never thought before. Not only that you are meeting people from all different walks of life. And being exposed to their troubles. Suddenly the person that you have been taught to “other” is a real boy.

Or girl.

I really only wrote that for comedic effect and to make you think back to Pinocchio. And his very real desire to be real.

Furthering your education you start to consider the concept of what it means to be real. Pinocchio’s definition is not the same as yours.

Because you are not Pinocchio.

And your mind is blown open by the idea that some people want different things and that some people use different goalposts to consider what is good or bad.

And you realize that even the words good and bad are not enough to explain the world.

Because everyone experiences the world differently.

Your universe has suddenly expanded and now you can’t other Joan, the international student in your class who came seeking a path to creating a better life back home. Or Daniel(le) who has so many questions about what makes a good person, a good person, and is trying to outrun their small town.

It is too late to not meet Joan or Daniel(le).

Your eyes have been opened to the terrors that governmental policies can bring to other people.

Where, before, you would have listened and done what the government told you. But now you know that there is two or three or more sides to a story.

And all we are trying to do is make life a little better for those who have not got the same privileges or power that we were born into.

Boom.

Empathy.

So sorry.

No, I’m not.

Cookie Thursday 11/7/24-soft pumpkin cookies

The Cookie Thursday is a Thing theme for November 2025 is Fall.

I asked my boss and someone else who happened to be in their office which cookie screams fall to them. They looked at each other and answered, “Pumpkin.”

I opened my Fall page on my Pinterest Cookie Thursday is a Thing board and looked up pumpkin cookies. One recipe caught my eye and it was for a soft pumpkin cookie, with no frosting.

Sold, I thought.

Until was making it and realized that it was a pumpkin Snickerdoodle recipe. Ugh. I hate making Snickerdoodles and this is probably the second time in CTIAT’s 9 years and 11 months that I made one.

I will recognize that the cookies are soft.

Apparently, this is because I decreased the canned pumpkin’s water content. I thought that would make the cookies drier. Not so. I put the canned pumpkin on paper towels and let the moisture seep out. This completely changed the consistency of the canned pumpkin.

Color me surprised and impressed.

The cookies did bake up super soft and it intensified the pumpkin flavor. Who knew?

I still hated dredging each dough ball in cinnamon sugar before baking. I will try that trick when I am making sweet potato cookies.

Best Kept Secrets of the OR #13- sometimes the surgeons get away with it

Unlucky 13.

Did you know that many operating rooms don’t have an OR #13? Many hospitals don’t have a 13th floor, either. Many units also don’t have a room #13, including ERs, med-surg, ICU, and PACU bays.

Huh, I wonder why? This is a rhetorical question.

The best-kept secret of today is that sometimes terrible surgeons get away with their shitty behavior, with their throwing of instrumentation, with their misogyny, and their open disdain for women.

Sounds like a person who is headed for the White House, no?

It doesn’t matter that there have been many, many, many, many, oh so many, attempts to report a surgeon for bad behavior, they just seem to get a slap on the wrist and a pat on the back in the same motion.

Sometimes the assholes win.

When they do, you have two choices. 1) suck it up and deal with it the best you can and 2) keep reporting, even if it seemingly goes nowhere.

Eventually, bad things happen to bad people. At least that can be something we tell ourselves in an effort to cheer ourselves and our coworkers up.

Now if a surgeon’s bad behavior puts a patient in danger, that is an entirely different ball game. Often there is an Alert Line that team members and others can use to report behavior. Eventually, they have to listen.

In The Princess Bride, Fred Savage’s character reacts badly when the grandfather tells him that Westley is dead. If you haven’t seen the movie, watch it and understand so much more about my posts.

I feel like Fred Savage’s character today.

Best thing I can do for myself today is to take a nap.

And then start again.

I’m gonna Pollyanna a bit, and maybe Annie, too. The sun will come out tomorrow and I have hope that not all is lost. It’s just gonna suck for a bit.

Here’s hoping.

Tuesday Top of Mind 11/5/24- your vote is private

Over the last two weeks, I have heard many, many, many, many, many attacks on women. Men are interested in how learning a woman, any woman, THEIR woman voted.

Ladies and gentlemen, you don’t owe anyone an answer to this.

It is none of their business HOW you voted.

It is none of their business IF you voted. Although, I wish you would.

Some men even equated not voting in lockstep with their vote to cheating. Cough, cough, jesse watters.

Um.

Take several steps back, sir.

In fact, check yourself. I realize that you think having an outie sex organ entitles you to all the things. But it doesn’t.

A woman in her EIGHTIES voted for the first time because her husband, who had decreed that it is not important that she vote, died last year.

There are so many stories about men and others but mostly men, putting pressure on women to vote the way that the man does. Or even stopping women from voting. Where do you think you live, sir? Iran or Afghanistan. The woman’s right to vote is enshrined in the 19th Amendment and we will not be denied.

Of course, there is a lot of chatter “joking” that the 19th Amendment has to be repealed. Yeah, I’ve seen your jokes. There is always a kernel or even a whole ear of corn of truth.

You and what army?

There are stories of breakups over a woman not telling a man who they voted for. Of men looming over their partners in the voting area in an intimidating manner. BTW, this is not allowed. Men who gave their wives the silent treatment because the wives dared to 1) vote and 2) not to tell them how they voted.

If I was confronted and someone demanded I tell them how I voted, I would tell the truth. I voted straight blue ticket. Yes, all of them, even the ballots that don’t have party affiliations on them. I can research and read up on the people I am voting for before I go to the early voting site.

But not all women are like me. And that’s okay.

This is your permission slip to lie. This isn’t something I would do, but you have to live your life.

No one has the right to know who you voted for.