The Coffman Diamond Saves The Universe

Well, in the interest of full disclosure, I am posting the email I got after my friend Sheri read my blog. I didn't get all the little details just right, but please note that I included the most important detail,
A ROARING BLAZE!
I can’t remember the date that this happened, but Melissa blogged it and got it somewhat wrong, so I will tell you the true story. My beloved husband had been gone to Idaho and was on his way home. I, like an idiot had been text messaging him while driving home from my trip to Hot Springs. I had pulled off hot that day like a pro.
Anyway, we are texting, and I am driving and smoking, not a good combo to begin with and if you pay attention to things like this, the rule usually is if you are doing something stupid, something stupid is going to happen to you. I am not a very good text messenger, so I really have to pay attention to detail, and I had too many details going on (trying to drive, texting, and keeping the ashes from falling off of my cigarette), so one of my details got neglected, my cigarette. Somewhere during the time of texting, the cherry of my cigarette fell off. At this time, I kind of freak out, because I have been burnt by a falling, flying , etc cigarette before while trapped in a car. It is not fun in anyway, shape, or form. So, I am hitting my pants leg and making sure that the cherry did not fall into my seat as to burn my
buttocks.
Everything seems cool! This is when I should have started to worry, nothing is ever cool in my world. So continuing to text the love of my life; I smell something like smoke. What the hell???? I look down and in the cubby of my door is a napkin smoldering. I have found the elusive cherry. Not a problem. I will just slam on the brakes and look as much like the General Lee sliding to a stop as a green minivan (We will call it “The Mustang” from hence forth) can do. All 5 foot 3 ¼ inches step out of the “The Mustang” wearing black boots, black pants, a cutesy top, lots of jewelry, and unruly, red hair, as I mentioned previously I had pulled off hot that day. The wind is blowing profusely. The first step out of the van is a cool one, looking to the untrained eye like I am in control, but when I open the door, the napkin actually burst into flame. At this point, I am a little panicky. I grab the napkin out of the door thinking that I will just calmly stomp the flame out with my extra large size 6 shoe.
But to my dismay, the wind had a different plan. When I dropped the napkin to stomp it out, the wind (that bitch) swoops it up into her evil talons and tries to take my fire hazard away. I will not be stopped. I am small but full of fire (pardon the pun). At this point, I do not believe that I am pulling off anywhere close to hot, because my hair is swarming me like angry bees, and I look like a mad woman chasing down a napkin in flames. When I finally catch the napkin, surprisingly it is still flaming. Napkins ARE NOT made of flame retardant material, in fact I think that they might actually have some kerosene in them so that they will burn longer.
I catch the napkin finally and stomp it with my extra large size 6 sexy, black fashion boot. The universe is saved by “The Coffman Diamond”. Feel safe good people, the world will not be demolished on my watch even if the disaster is my fault. I will TRIUMPH!!!! Of course I will have to have my sexy boots on.

Adventures in Amyland 2

Friend "Amy" is really pretty. She is also pretty darn smart. She is graduating at
the top of her class. Girl has a lot going on for her.

However, she is also a natural born klutz.

I have seen her trip over thin air. This girl could accidentally draw blood with a Marks-a-lot
and a feather.

One time in particular stands out. She almost drowned her self standing on dry ground. Amy tipped up a bottle of water for a cold refreshing drink and almost sent herself on to her great reward. She turned purple and her eyes bugged out. The whole time I was whacking her between the shoulder blades I was yelling, "Don't go towards the light!"

The moments, they are never dull.

A little shot of Sheri

Lest anyone think that friend Amy is the only kook around these parts, I will now share a tale of my co-worker Sheri. She is smart and pretty, thin and funny.

Fortunately, she has quirks and vices which keep me from hating her.
This falls into the vice column.

One day on her way home from work, Sheri was enjoying a leisurely smoke. In the time honored tradition of all good smokers, she had cracked her window the tiniest bit in order for the smoke to be slurped out. Also, to flick out teeny ash bitlets.

It was during one of the ash flickings that mayhem ensued.
Sheri realized that the cherry (the little burning bit) was missing from the cigarette. The cherry is a fairly important part of the smoking experience. Without it, you are just fish lipping a tobacco straw.

After a bit of paranoid stomping and leg slapping Sheri relaxed, convinced that neither her leg nor her floor board were in imminent danger of combustion.
And she was almost right.

A very short time later, little wisps of smoke floated up into her field of vision. The coal had fallen into the door pocket which she had been innocently using as a trash receptacle. Straw wrappers, receipts, used napkins and various other flammable odds and ends had set up a smokey smolder.

In order to escape a possible firey death trap, Sheri skidded to a hasty stop just barely out of the lane of traffic. Unfortunately, when she flung her door open, the air current caused the smolder to BURST INTO FLAMES!

Instead of using her soda to douse the blaze, Sheri managed to scoop the entire burning mess out of the door compartment. She dropped it to the asphalt in the hopes of stomping the living hell out of it, thereby putting an end to the madness.

I bet you can guess what is coming.

The wind chose just that moment to gust down the highway. It snatched up the burning bitlets and tossed them into the dry weeds. Traffic continued to ease around the butt end of her minivan as she went into panic mode and started stomping along the highway like an Indian at a rain dance.

Sheri is a tiny woman but she can stomp out a brush fire in a hurry!

Adventures in Amyland 1

What we have here is a new series of posts on a crazy lady.
We will call her "Amy".

Amy is special. She is a constant source of humor and an occasional source of irritation. And never on purpose. For either.

Like the time she came to work to "help out". We were very busy getting animals back to see the vet, filling prescriptions, and selling flea and tick meds.
While the vet was filling a prescription and printing out a drug label, I was helping a customer get Frontline (flea meds).
Amy takes the box of Frontline, slaps the drug label that has just printed on it and sends the folks on their merry way.
Thanks, Amy!
Except that we don't put drug labels on Frontline because the directions are right on the box.
I quickly call the Frontline purchaser and explain that, CONTRARY to the instructions on the drug label, she should not put 2-3 drops in each EAR twice daily.
Just keep putting it on the back of her dog's NECK like usual.

The drug label had printed out for CAT ear mite medicine.

Oh Amy. You rascal.

Did she say...Ice Cream?

Ok, so I work for a vet. Going on 3 years now. My co worker has been there for 15. I have seen many hundreds of surgeries, she has seen thousands.

Usually when the dogs come out of surgery, we monitor them until they regain consciousness, pull the treach tube out of their mouths, and put them in their respective cages.

Occasionally, but not often, a dog will have a reaction to the anesthesia upon awakening and have mild seizures. At which point she or I will CALMLY inform the doctor. If they persist for longer than 5 minutes, the doctor administers a counter reative drug to the dog and the seizures stop. Most of the time they abate in three to five minutes on their own.

No cause for alarm, no freaking out.

But not today.

Because today, there was a woman in our clinic that was not about to allow anything less than full scale drama.

Please keep in mind that she doesn't work at our clinic, it was not her dog and she is not a client with us.

She was just a visitor.

When poochy started shaking, she LEAPT into the floor to hulk over him. And started barking orders at us like a head nurse in a busy ER.
"Ice! I need ice! Do you have ice packs? Or ice cream? Some one go get an ice pack!"

Um...? Ice cream?

Maybe I misheard.

One of the other ladies in the room jumps to attention and runs to find an icepack while Sheri tries to explain to Nurse Attilla that it is just the drug wearing off and the dog will be fine.

But no, NA has read the latest medical magazines and knows the true course we should take here.

She catches my eye and urgently commands me to go fetch some "ice cream or some honey or something sweet".

She plans to feed it to the dog to stop the seizures.

Does anyone remember that scene in Steel Magnolias where Julia Roberts has a diabetic seizure and freaks out? And her mother is trying to force a drink of OJ down her goosle?

Exactly that; only with a tiny dog who is not a diabetic, and needs drugs not dessert.

By this time the doctor had the drug ready to administer, takes the dog from Nurse Attilla, gives the shot, and all is well.

I bet when N.A. tells this story to her friends (hostages) she feeds the dog the ice cream and saves his life.