Bonus Post: the second most misunderstood post ever, plus what I'm thankful for...

Please note, emailers and posters, that I didn't mention word one about going low-carb in connection with bison meat. I buy red meat maybe three times a year, and this time I decided to try bison loaf rather than beef loaf. I'm more concerned about hormones and weird finishing-lot stuff than anything else. I've seen feedlots. They're not cute.

Also, emailers and posters, please note that I didn't say that Der Alter Jo's boyfriend was *my* boyfriend. To wit:

1. Der Alter Jo is a different person.

2. Her boyfriend, RatBoy ("Wait, Wait: Don't Tell Me" reference) does not eat beef.

3. My boyfriend doesn't eat beef either, but that's because

4. HE DOESN'T EXIST. I HAVE NO BOYFRIEND.

Y'all just take a pill. Please. I didn't bury the lead. Penny, put down the rice. Mom, don't panic. Thank you.

Also, I am very thankful to have the sort of friend in Der Alter Jo whom I can text as I'm watching Sherlock Holmes episodes and say, "Seeing Counsellor Troi in 'The Sixth Napoleon' is just weird" and have it make sense. I swear, if Alter Jo started following fashion blogs, we'd be the same damn person.

She gave me a Kindle, which was akin to giving Iggy Pop a fresh needle and a bottle of bleach. She sent me a box of Archie McPhee stuff to hand out to visitors while I was in bed hopped up on Dilaudid. But the most valuable thing D.A.J does, besides being a totally-trustworthy, kickass nurse? Is be as nerdy as I am.

Well, that and keep tea in her bag at work. That's good, too.

Cute Overload.

My pal Joey (SWIDT?) has just adopted a cute little fluffy white dog named Dexter. He's a Coton-de-Something, officially the officialest official dog of Madagascar that anybody has ever seen.

(Joey is like that. She gets invited to parties where Noam Chomsky just might be hanging out by the guacamole. Even her dog's breed is unintentionally fucking cool.)

Anyway, he's adorable, and I say this as somebody who does not like small dogs. Anything under 40 pounds is bait, unless it's a dachshund. But Dexter? Adorabubble. So much so that I have been compulsively checking Joey's Facebook page to see if there are more videos of him sleeping, or chewing on a toy, or playing in somebody's lap.

She asked if there were any apps for puppies. I, in a moment of genius, replied that there are two: SLEEP and PLAY. The trick, of course, is getting 'em to download at the right times.

Our own HN Mascot, Max, is also being terminally cute. While he was drinking from his big huge water bowl today, Flashes (the stripey, smaller cat) decided to come up for a drink as well. Flashes has to do everything Max does.

That led to many licks from Max, as Flashes seems to have some sort of Tiny Flavr, and left Flashes sort of damp all over. Which means that they're now cuddled up on Max's bed so Flashes can stay warm.

It's all freaking cute all the time up in here.

Monday Remedy:

Sunday night/Monday morning jam:

I'm going to be writing an article on dealing with difficult patients, and need categories I can slot various patient types into. Suggestions are welcome in the comments.

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DAMN YOU ALTER JO. I'm letting the bison meatloaf rest overnight, in an attempt to get it all to come together, but damn you! Jo's boyfriend doesn't eat beef; he's unable to, considering that nobody in his family has done so for more than a thousand years. So they eat bison. And I've got two poundses of the stuff, Precious, sitting in the fridge and freezer, on her recommendation. If this doesn't turn out, I'm fingering you and RatBoy.

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Somehow, without meaning to, I've gotten tasked with working out a diabetes education program for our patients with strokes. Considering that the majority of our stroke patients are poor and diabetic, this will be a challenge. The main problem is going to be writing up instructions in a fashion that people with only a fourth-grade education can understand, without it being condescending or oversimplified.

Nurse Ames will be helping, but still: the majority of the responsibility falls on me. Yikes.

How did this happen, again?

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The NP for the stroke service introduced me to the new resident group as the local expert on drugs and STDs. Hi! I'll be your Big Ol' Ho today!

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Is it unreasonable for me to want to hike the UK for my forty-second birthday? That's a year from now. I'm starting tomorrow, looking for people who can put me up.

Or maybe New Zealand. I've always wanted to go to a place where you could dig down into the beach sand and end up with a hot tub. There's something about visiting the youngest habitable spot on the planet, geologically speaking, that appeals to me, even if I don't have any history there.

Why can't Kiwiland be closer to The Old Country, so I wouldn't have to choose?

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Not safe for work or Mom. Or maybe safe for Mom, because My Mom is pretty damn cool.

Oh. My. GOD. (fuckit!)

I want a Hello Kitty merkin. This might be why I'm having so much trouble on OKCupid.

An encounter with Dr. Pleasant, resident physician:

Dr. P: "What's a blunt?"

Nurse Jo, without looking up from her charting: "A cigar that's been hollowed out and refilled with marijuana."

(a few minutes later)

Dr. P: "This patient has trich. What do we do for that?"

Nurse Jo, without looking up: "Two grams of Flagyl PO, given once."

(a few more minutes pass)

Dr. P: "Why have I been humming 'I Think We're Alone Now' all day? I hate Debbie Gibson!"

Nurse Jo, without looking up: "That's actually Tiffany."

Dr. P: "That is the most disturbing thing you've known all day."

Nurse Jo, your source for all drug, sexually-transmitted-infection, and bad 80's pop knowledge.