Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Just one vowel.

Look at that face.  It barely has a nose.  That face makes a lot of noise.  We call those noises, snarfles.  I had never had a Pug before The Bean.  I had no idea what to expect.  I certainly didn't expect all of the licking.  The snoring.  The odd noises that come out of this sweet little dog.  She makes me smile and laugh every day.

One night, I took the pug and the cocker spaniel to Mr. Misha's band practice. The band practices by themselves during the week, but on the weekends, friends, families, kids and a dogs all gather at The Shop.  A potluck is set up, a fire is started outside in the fire pit.  The kids and dogs run through the vineyards.  The adults drink wine and visit.  The band plays.  It is quite lovely.

Because my schedule is so screwy, I don't usually make it to practice.  The dogs have never been.  But the drummer of the band made a specific request that I bring the pug, so I got us all ready and we hit the road.  I took my BFF Deb with me and as I drove up, my Mom showed up with her dog.  Two of my co-workers were there with their kids.  One of them brought her Great Dane.  It looked like it was going to be a blast.

The Cocker Spaniel got so very excited to see her Daddy on stage, that she raced across the room and bounded up on stage.  I couldn't keep her off.  She had to be put on a leash.  When we would step outside the building, I would take her off the leash and the girls would race through the vineyards, sniffing around and enjoying the wide open space.  During one of the band breaks, just before the sun went down, one of the band wives came up to me and said, "Come with us, we are going to go see the piglets."  Ok!

Two weekends before, all the 4-H kids in Napa picked out their pigs.  They care for them through the spring and summer and then take them to the Napa Town and Country Fair at the end of the summer to show them and then auction them off. The piglets are so cute at that age, still relatively small and curious.  So I grabbed my mom and trodded off to the pig pen with about a dozen kids and all the dogs.

My mom's Jack Russell and my Cocker Spaniel just wanted to run.  They took a few sniffs and then it was back to the vineyards to race around.  But the pug was in love.  A pen filled with little beasts, around her size, with flat noses and making similar sounds!  I pretty sure in her brain she was saying, "I HAVE FOUND MY PEOPLE!"  She shoved her head completely through the opening in the fence and got snout to snout with a little black pig.  They snarfled, sniffed and snorted.  Both were wagging their curly tails.

I heard the band starting up again and turned to head back.  The Pug wouldn't budge.  She wanted to stay with the pigs.  I had to pick her up to get her out of the pig pen.  It was hysterical.  She whined (it almost sounded like a pig squeal) all the way back to the barn.  While we were talking about the Pugs reaction to the piglets, one of the kids came up and said, "Maybe it's because their names are so close?  It's just one vowel difference between a pig and a pug!"

Saturday, November 20, 2010

It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You!

This week, I started mentoring a nursing student.  She is in the last few weeks of nursing school & as part of her training she will spend two months with me birthin' babies.  It could be a coincidence, but the minute she started her preceptorship, all Hell has broken loose at the baby birthin' factory.  It has been extremely busy.  It has been extremely challenging.  I can't go into details because of privacy laws, but this has been the most physically and emotionally draining week of baby birthin' I've had in years.

As we sat at the computer, two hours after our shift had ended, catching up on our charting, I looked at her and said, "This is all your doing.  Things were nice and mellow here, then you came and the dam broke!  Are you trying to kill me or get me to quit so you can have my job when you graduate?"  She grinned and replied, "You found me out.  You figured out my evil plan."  Then she grinned.

I adore her!

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

A Plethora of Updates (Mostly boob-related)

  Dress Quest 9/11

Thanks to everyone for the fashion advise.  I ended up purchasing the two most popular dresses.  I wore one to the rehearsal dinner and the other to the wedding.  I didn't get any real good full length photos of myself with either of my my dresses, but I am waiting to see the photos that other folks have taken and will post them if they are not too embarrassing.

Rehearsal dinner dress with the awesome ten buck kitten-heeled sandals! 

Dress for the wedding with pink kitten-heeled slides. 

Unfortunate and freakish self portrait. 

Twammogram Redux

I got the results of my follow up mammogram.  Not much different than last time.  Basically, the radiology report read like this:  

This chick's boobs are huge.  It's really hard to see everything because these boobs are gigantic.  Every once in a while I can see some teeny tiny abnormality.  These abnormalities do not look like cancer and they haven't changed since last time. But I need to cover my ass, so I am going to make this poor woman haul her incredibly large titties into the women's center every six months for the rest of her life. The End. 
So I guess I will be doing this bi-annually.  I will live-tweet, blog, video, take pics as much of it as I can. If I have to do this, I am taking you all with me. 


I have been knitting again.  I have been knitting baby hats for friends and coworkers who have recently popped out a child.  My favorite hat has to be the 'Boobie Beanie'.  I made one for my hair stylist's little girl. I posted pics on Facebook.  

I realize that this areola is HUGE. 

The suggestion was made that I accessorize the hat.   

I took the ring off prior to wrapping it up as a baby gift. 


Then I started to make a second one for an older infant of a coworker.  I either lost count of my stitches or screwed up the gauge, because after it was finished, I realized it was way too big.  So I stuck it on Mr. Misha! 

Areola much smaller this time.  Mr. Misha is such a good sport.

Since finishing those two, I have had many requests to make more- for both babies and adults!  I will be knitting up a storm this fall!

That is all the updates I have for now.  I have a few blog post ideas in my noggin.  I am hoping to try and post something here at least once a week till the end of the year.  Let's see how well I do at that!

Friday, August 27, 2010

This Is What A (Somewhat) Young Feminist Looks Like

This post is one of 37 submissions in the ‘This is What a Young Feminist Looks Like’ blog carnival. Head over to our host, Fair and Feminist, for a list of participating blogs.

The California Nurses Association is trying to unionize the hospital where I work.  Each night, they take over a conference room, set out some food, candy and union literature for the nurses. They sit there, answering nurses questions and responding to claims made by anti-union nurses and hospital administration.

I always make sure to think of a question to ask them when I get there.  I figure that it is the least I could do since they are feeding me for free almost every night.  The other night, it was crazy busy in labor and delivery.  I didn't think I would be able to make it down there because my patient was so unstable.  Other nurses returned from the conference room with a message from the CNA representatives, "Misha, they were asking about you down there.  They said they missed you and were saving some orange chicken for you!"  I got my patient straightened out and found a nurse to watch her for a few minutes.

As soon as I made my way into the room, I was greeted with a loud, "MISHA!" I signed the sign-in sheet, I introduced my co-worker to the CNA reps, I  asked my question and started to make myself a plate.  While I spooned some rice onto my plate, a member of the CNA board of directors said, "Misha, we are having a rally tomorrow in Sacramento to celebrate and honor the suffragettes.  Are you going to attend?"  I explained that as much as I would love to attend, I was working and had babies to birth, but I would be there in spirit.  It was then, that a nurse asked "What is a suffragette?"  I tried to wipe the shocked look off my face.  How could anyone not know about the anniversary of Women's Suffrage? I explained that the 90th anniversary of women getting the right to vote was this week.  I explained that the suffragettes were the women who fought bravely for that right.  She was amazed that women had not been voting since the beginning of the United States.  I wonder if this nurse is what the older feminists have in mind when they claim that there are no young feminists?

That nurse is the exception.  I'd point that older feminist to the young women who fight for abortion rights every day.  I'd tell her to take a look at women fighting for the right to breastfeed publicly.  I show her the scores of women in this country who are standing up for their right to give birth in the manner of their choosing.  I'd introduce her to my Goddaughter who, at the young age of 6, tells everyone that she is going to be a US Marine and 'A Girl President'.  I'd have her look at Chelsea Baker.  Young feminists are everywhere.  Today's feminism is has many facets.  Not every feminist is wearing a shirt that reads, 'A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle' whilst burning her bra.  Some of them are wearing baseball cleats and throwing knuckleballs.  Others are wearing nursing bras and demonstrating at a local store.  A few are nude, in an inflatable tub, giving birth to the next generation of young feminists.  Some of us are blogging, tweeting and Facebooking for equality.  We are out there, fighting the fight for women everywhere.  I am one of them.  This is what a (somewhat) young feminist looks like:

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Twammogram Redux

I finally went & had my repeat mammogram.  I was supposed to get it 4 months ago, but I kept playing phone tag with the central scheduling department at the hospital.  Eventually, I got an appointment and I live tweeted the procedure again.

But to be honest, I couldn't really tweet during the actual boob shoot for a variety of reasons.

#1) I could tell with one look that the mammographer did not have a sense of fun and humor.

#2) This time, I was required to put myself in all sorts of pretzel-like positions for each shot.

#3) It hurt this time and I was too busy doing my baby birthin' breathing to tweet or take pics.

So here are a selection of Twammogram tweets from yesterday, along with some commentary.

I got a quick response that my choices of afflictions to get purple swag were: Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Lupus, Prostate Cancer, Arthritis, Alzheimer's and at one hospital- heart disease. 

Okay, so the chic doing the mammogram looked like a blond version of Sarah Palin.  It only took a few minutes of casual conversation and I could tell that her politics were similar to the half-governor's.  I kept my mouth shut out of fear.  I was afraid if she found out what a pinko-lefty-French-loving-arugula-munching-latte-sippin'-chardonnay-chuggin'-secret-muslim she had in the room, she'd tighten the vice grip on my breasts.

Despite keeping my political leanings to myself, it was still an uncomfortable procedure this time.  Last time was a breeze.  I guess for a follow up they get more shots and certain positions, because the lady was yanking on my nipples and floppin' my boobs around like they weren't attached to me.  OUCHIE!  


I loved the tweets of support and jokes from my Breast Friends on Twitter.  Laughter really is the best medicine.  I read all of them out loud as Mr. Misha and I drove home.  His comment was "I'm glad you made such good friends that you can twatter about your boobs with."  I have to say, I am glad too.  Thanks to all of you.

I should have the results in 10 to 14 days.  I'll be sure to keep you guys abreast (HA!) of the situation.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Dress Quest 911

I need help.  I am trying to find something to wear to a semi-hipster/computer nerd wedding on September 11th.  It is going to be hot as Hades.  I need to be comfortable.  I also have ginormous boobs (which I like), T-Rex arms (which I don't like) and freakishly white legs which I refuse to put in a pair of pantyhose in fucking September. 

I hate shopping.  I hate leaving my house to go to the mall.  So, I enlisted the help of my gal pals on twitter. Despite busy lives of their own, they sent me link after link, helping me find a dress.  They knew there were concerns about 'Boob Security/Safety'.  Strapless and asymmetrical looks were cast aside in favor of 'Boob Lockdown'.  They even came up with a title for this adventure, and this blog post.  

Here are the finalists for DRESS QUEST 911:

#1) This little dress would be nice because I most definitely could wear it
again. It's a bit fancy, but if I wear it without hose and with strappy
sandals, I think it would be okay.  I have a little black shrug to
cover up my T-Rex arms.

#2) Same as above as far as accessories, but I like that this has a
splash of color.  Probably a little more casual, therefore
more wearable for me.

#3) Same accessories as above.  Love this because it is
PURPLE and longer.  Worried about the straps,
they seem skimpy.

#4) Love this!  It's purple!  It has sleeves, no need for
 the shrug.  Looks super comfortable.
Here is a shot of the back. 

#5) Love this!  It's twirlable. Looks like it'd be slimming.
No need for the shrug. Worried about my bra options.   

#6) Looks a lot like #1, but it's PURPLE. I would have to
purchase a different shrug to go with this one.  But I think it
would be slimming.  It looks twirlable.  Super feminine. 

So tell me what you guys think?  Which dress do you think I should get? Should I go for the dresses with the sleeves and forgo the shrug?  Should I throw caution to the wind and get the paisley-ish maxi dress?  How much double stick tape will I need to keep my boobs in these dresses?  Please vote in the comments and help me make this decision!  

Saturday, June 26, 2010


I received an email from a cousin tonight.  I loved the personal note he included, as well as the story he forwarded.  I wish Mr. Misha and I had the cash/space/bigger bed to adopt more rescue dogs. 

The back seat of this rescue van almost looks like our bed at night, every night we have four rescue dogs in bed (two are mother and son, Beatrice and Dante both deaf and blind) and two others, a Peak, Judy and a Long Haired Chihuahua , Pippi, ALL physically abused, and ALL from the Bill Foundation, then during the night the four feral kittens now house cats, a year later, pile into the bed to keep warm on cold winter nights..........that's wife and I, plus eight other 
little ones, get up at night and lose your spot, then its the remainder of the night on the couch.

Animals know how to care for one another 
just like friends do for each other.  

Kansas Tornado.....A Great Story
After the tornado (Greensburg, Ks.) 
The story begins with the rescuers finding this poor 
little guy they named Ralphie.  Someone had already 
taken him under their wing, but they weren't equipped 
to adopt.

Ralphie, scared and starved, joined his rescuers...  

I wouldn't think anything could live thru this...but we
were wrong.

This little lady also survived that wreckage.  

Here she is just placed in the car - scared, but safe. 

and then..they are no longer alone!

Instant friends, they comforted each other while 
in the car.  

Add two more beagles found after that...  the more, 
the merrier! 

Oh boy, a new traveler to add to the mix...
(Note:  the cat coming over the seat needing shelter...)  


Now just how is this going to work? 
(and remember they are all strange to one another)

It's going to work just fine, thank you very much!

Wow!  The things we learn from our animal friends...  
If only all of mankind could learn such valuable 
lessons as this.Lessons of instant friendship.
Of peace and harmony  by way of respect for one another -- 
no matter one's color or creed.

These  animals tell you... 
"It's just good to be alive and with others."  
Yes, it surely is.

Saturday, May 01, 2010

Springtime College Memories

I went to a Seventh Day Adventist College(I am not SDA). It was located in a little hamlet on top of a hill in the gorgeous Napa Valley. The location of the town made it possible for the college to keep out most of the secular world. Mail was delivered on Sundays instead of Saturday (their sabbath). Caffeine, alcohol, tobacco, meat and condoms were not available for sale up on the hill. One of my instructors was fond of saying "We are only 7 miles away from sin." My response, under my breath, was "Thank God for that!"

Anywho, I always wondered what my SDA postal carrier thought each May 1st when my roommate would get several post cards from friends around the world that simply read:



Happy May Day. Celebrate it however you'd like!

Monday, April 26, 2010

I'm all about Science. #Boobquake

So today women around the world are conducting an experiment.  They are going to see if their breasts can cause an earthquake.  You see, this doofus in Iran thinks that "Many women who do not dress modestly lead young men astray and spread adultery in society which increases earthquakes" so today women are posting their most immodest photos of their chesticular area to see if it will, indeed, cause the earth to quake.  

This movement was started by this women.  Her Facebook page has over 40,000 fans. I figured, since I have ginormous breastesses, I would lend them to this experiment.  If my H-cups can't cause the earth to move, I don't think anything can.  

Here is the most immodest photo I could find of my boobs.  Hysterically, it is a photo of me in my wedding dress!  HA!

Friday, April 23, 2010

I think my dogs are plotting against me.

I love my little furry babies.  They bring me so much peace and joy.  I love them like I gave birth to them myself.  Yes, I really do love my dogs as much as you love your children.  My two little girls are the light of my life.  But as I imagine most parents experience from time to time, I feel like they ganged up on me today.

I was trying to be a good mom (responsible dog guardian) so I decided to clean the pugs wrinkles.  I'm not sure if all pugs have this, but our pug gets this gunk that I refer to as 'plum sauce' in the wrinkles between her nose and her eyes.  While the production of plum sauce has slowed down since we got rid of our carpet in lieu of laminate floors, it seems like she gets more 'saucy' during allergy season.  The pug hates to have her wrinkles cleaned.  If she even suspects that I am going to go near them she will take off as fast as her little stick legs will move her barrel body.  So it is imperative that one devises a plan.

First, I close the bedroom door.  Second, I go into the bathroom and get the unscented, aloe vera baby wipes.  I take a few wipes out and I warm them in my hands so they will be more comfortable for her.  Then I quickly scoop the pug up and plop her on my lap.  I then spend the next 10 minutes wrestling with all 15 lbs of her.  She tries to wiggle away, but I keep a tight grip on her collar.  Since she seems to be just as afraid as Mr. Misha that her eyeballs are going to pop out, she usually gives up.

Whilst I am ridding my little Chinese Pug's wrinkles of plum sauce, I feel a very familiar movement behind me.  It is a movement that I am sure many dog moms are familiar with.  It is the sensation of the bed moving when your dog is about to puke.  The noise sounds like a prepubescent boy swallowing his burps and the movement is a combination of dry-heaving and air-humping.  If I hadn't had a handful of plum-sauce-encrusted baby wipes, I would have snatched the cocker spaniel up and whisked her to the toilet so she could barf like a lady.  But I was too slow and she barfed right there on my bed.

Just then, Mr. Misha walked into the room and noticed the puddle of bile-colored liquid on the bed.  "Hey!  That looks like on of Marcel's foams!"  my sweet husband exclaimed. I gave him a look that let him know I was not impressed with the Top Chef reference and he quickly got the cocker spaniel off the bed so she could continue to barf on the floor.

Now it's noon.  I worked all night at the baby birthin' factory and I am washing all the bedding so I can remake the bed and eventually go to sleep.  As I type this, the dogs, of course, are sound asleep on the bare mattress.  The little bitches, they always seem to find a way to get the bed all to themselves.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Blog for Fair Pay Day 2010

Today I am taking time out from my normal blog jackassery (well, not completely- There will be some in this blog, because of course, I am the jackass that is writing it) to write in support of The Paycheck Fairness Act.  I will return to my usual profanity-filled blog posts tomorrow.

I work with approximately 100 women and exactly 9 men.  One of those men is a nurse.  All the rest are Pediatricians and Obstetricians.  I often wonder if that one male nurse makes more than his 99 female co-workers.  Could it be? If he does, is it because he works 12% harder than his female co-workers?  No.  He doesn't.  We all work hard and we deserve to be paid equally.  Pay inequity effects women and families.  It effects each paycheck, it effects their retirement accounts and college funds. Why the fuss over a mere 12 cents per dollar? Over a lifetime, it can add up to three quarter of a million dollars! That is why The Paycheck Fairness act is so important.

What is The Paycheck Fairness Act, you ask?  Well, I just happen to have a little blurb here from the National Women's Law Center website:

"The Paycheck Fairness Act, passed in the House of Representatives in January 2009 and now pending in the Senate, aims to strengthen current laws against wage discrimination and provides tools to enable the federal government to be more proactive in the fight. Among other things, the Paycheck Fairness Act would also close a significant loophole in the Equal Pay Act to allow for full compensation for sex-based wage discrimination."

Doesn't sound to scary, does it?  Why would anyone be against paying women the same wage that men receive for the same job?  Well, the uber-conservative U.S. Chamber of Commerce does.  So does the National Association of Manufacturers. As does the Retail Industry Leaders Association. Along with the American Hotel and Lodging Association.  The Society of Human Resource Management is opposing it too.  You know who these groups represent?  They represent "The Man".  You know who "The Man" is don't you?  He is the one who is always trying to keep you down.  He is the one who signs your paycheck, makes your schedule and tries to oppress you.  We cannot let "The Man" win!  We must fight against him!

So, check out these links below.  Get yer learn on and find out how you can help.  Let's stick it to "The Man"!

Here is more info on The Paycheck Fairness Act

Facts about pay equity

Here is how you can help!

Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Lost in Translation

Much to the dismay of our crabby next door neighbor, Mr. Misha and I often holler stuff at each other from different rooms.

Usually it is stuff like, "Are you hungry?" or "Did you feed the dogs?"

But sometimes it is goofy stuff like "I fucking love my wife!"  or "My husband is the cutest husband in the world!"  or "Why are these dogs so goofy? Do you think we should give them back?"

On rare occasions it is something important, "You're supposed to be at your doctor's appointment RIGHT NOW!"  or "I'm gonna go get you coffee before you leave for work!" 

Yesterday, Mr. Misha yelled something from his man cave and I completely misunderstood him.

What he actually said: "On the 28th Flight of the Conchords are going to be in Berkeley!"

What I thought he said: "On the 28th the cocker needs to be in a burka!"

I have no explanation.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

My Earliest Political Statement

To be truthful, I do not remember this story AT ALL.  It is family lore and has been told to me many times.  Keep in mind; my mother's memory is both selective and creative ... so I cannot vouch for the accuracy of this story. I was December 1970 or 1971. My father, after completing his duty in Vietnam flying Med-Evac helicopters, was flying Marine Corps One for President Richard Nixon.

The White House was having some sort of Christmas party for the staff. It was a candlelight tour of The White House. Knowing my Mother and Father, I am sure that they spent all day getting ready.  My Mom with her hair rolled up in rollers the size of soup cans, except for her bangs, which were taped to her forehead with that pink tape everyone used back then. She probably used enough Aqua Net that night to make her own personal hole in to ozone. My father, in his office, with his groovy music playing on his big reel-to-reel stereo system, polishing his medals and bars. His already perfectly starched and ironed dress blues would be hanging by the door. I am sure that Francis, my heavy-set, black nanny, had scrubbed me up and made me sit still and play quietly until we were just about ready to leave. Right before my parents would leave, she would put me in a clean diaper, stuff me in my starched dress and set a big bow with scotch tape to my nearly bald head.

I imagine that the white house was beautiful. The entire house decorated for Christmas, pine boughs, red ribbons and white twinkle lights placed throughout the building.  Tables of hors 'd orderves and sweets displayed meticulously as staffers went by and tasted the fare. The time came for my mother, father and I to greet the president. The story, as told by my mother, goes something like this:

"Your Father and I took you up to see the president.  He was smiling and seemed very excited to meet you.  Your father introduced me to the president and I shook his hand.  He told me you were a very beautiful baby and then outstretched his arms to hold you. I handed you over to the president; he sat down on a settee and set you on his knee. He was smiling and talking to you, you were smiling and drooling (you were teething and a drool factory at the time) and then all of a sudden, his face changed.  He lifted you up and handed you to me. I noticed a wet mark on his pants where your butt had sat. The president excused himself and I took you to the bathroom to change your diaper. When I came back from the bathroom, your Dad was mortified and the president was wearing a different pair of pants. That is the story of when you peed on President Richard Milhous Nixon."