Warning: Many, Many Pictures

Which should teach Dana a thing or two about encouraging compulsive crafters. The only reason I haven't run over to macrame her a doormat (besides, I mean, that I don't know how to macrame--I'm sure I would if I had some string, a book, and a quiet afternoon) is that I don't actually know where she lives. I don't blame her for keeping it that way. But the dear girl made the mistake of actually asking me for photos of my infamous, homemade scrubs. Which is a lot like asking your Aunt Myrtle if she'll please show you pictures of her trip to the denture factory or your Great Uncle Fred if he'd mind if you took a gander at his chewing-gum wrapper collection.

In other words, OF COURSE I WILL! I'd be DELIGHTED to! But don't expect me to come wake you up afterwards. I mean, I've warned you--I think I've done all that I can.

Four separate tops...even I couldn't stomach all these prints in one. The black one with the kitty heads has matching pants of the same fabric. My other scrubs sometimes complain that that set keeps them awake.

Three more...this time the butterfly one and the tie dye one both have matching pants. And the one in two shades of pink is really two tiny floral prints. It ties in the back.

The denim ones on the right have matching pants; the pink camo is actually flannel because I get cold easily. A wise secretary once told me that this shirt would be just perfect if I ever wanted to hide in the Barbie aisle at Fred Meyer.

Huh. I seem to have choked blogger. It will not allow me to add the additional photos I had lined up. Big wuss. Okay, but I did manage to get one in of the top I made on Sunday:

I sort of semi-designed this one by modifying a pattern for a non-scrub top. Don't look too closely, as I don't want to be responsible for any motion sickness, but it does have pockets, and an empire waist, and it ties in the back. I have another photo of me wearing it but, as I've mentioned, Blogger is a big whiney baby and won't let me show you. Trust me, though. It's a bit less vomitous when paired with plain pants and it looks pretty cute on. So says the woman with the top made out of pink flannel camo fabric. Take it as you will.

I finally accepted an offer to work at a local clinic--it's 12 minutes from home with no freeway drive, it pays well, and the hours are great (8 - 5 Mon-Fri--as opposed to the 6:40am to 8:00 pm with no break mon-thurs I had before) so I'm pretty happy with it. I started today and it seems like it will work out well. Only thing is....

...you want to hear something ironic? Well, it's an Asthma and Allergy clinic. I rarely suffer from allergies, but from about an hour after I got there until I got home, I was having so much difficulty that slamming my head repeatedly in the sample room door was starting to sound as if it might really improve things. My eyes felt like someone had wrapped them individually in duct tape, and my ears were so blocked that I would have had more luck asking patients to check their own blood pressure than actually hearing it myself. I also thought of setting up a "guess your blood pressure" booth, but the docs weren't too keen on that idea.

All I can say is this: if it's gonna be THAT way, I'm really glad I didn't take a job at say...a leprosy clinic. Or a plague clinic. Or...well, you get the picture.

I'm going to go pack my lunch for tomorrow...with about a pound of antihistamine. I apologize for both the lack of truly interesting content (head is full of snot and some sort of stuffing that feels much like quilt batting but isn't nearly as useful) and the shortchanging you got on the photos. Look on the bright side, though: it probably saved you from a terrible keyboard injury incurred by passing out from boredom and smacking your face directly onto the keys.