I just finished my 2nd book of the year. It is Family Tree by Barbara Delinsky. It tells the story of a 30 something woman who does not know much about her past/family history and her typical straight off the Mayflower husband whose family is quite wealthy and snobby. Main character lady gets pregnant, has baby, baby looks african american although both of her parents are white as can be. The story goes into both the husband and wife's pasts. There is much digging up of family secrets, learning about oneself, seeing beyond color, yada yada. It is actually a pretty good, albeit predictable, book. It's a quick read and fits nicely into my purse to take to work. Kelly Goodson, if you read this, ignore that last line. (that's my boss)
I am working the evening shift Friday-Sunday nights, those hours are 2:30-11pm. I get out to my car at 2:00 this afternoon ready to leave for work, when I see my keys in the cupholder. The doors are locked. We only have 1 other key. It is on Richard's key ring...with him...at work. He's on a conference call and can't leave. Finally he gets there at 3pm, and I get to work about an hour late. Again, Kelly Goodson, if you're reading this, ignore this entire paragraph. So I made it to work, hit the gift shop for a bag of sour worms, ate 'em all and am now sitting here bored out of my gourd wishing I had a job that didn't require me to work weekends, especially weekend evenings. What I meant to say was: I love my job, I'm thankful for my job, many people don't have jobs right now, I'm so grateful that I have a secure job that pays the bills nicely, that's my mantra, repeat 10 times. No really, I am thankful for my job, doesn't mean I have to love it though. Anyway, thanks to my hard work tonight many patients in the hospital will poop because I entered their docusate, not vomit because I entered their zofran, sleep because I entered their ambien, not reject their new kidney because I entered their cyclosporine, not hear voices in their head because I entered their zyprexa, and just generally be healthier because I entered their multivitamin...it's serious work I do folks. On a funny note, one of the other pharmacists got an order for a patient to use his own penis pump while in the hospital. Yep, really. I'm not sure what it was used for in the first place, and why it is necessary to pump your penis while you are a patient in the hospital, but apparently this guy's doc wanted him to have that option. At least things like that give us a laugh to break up the monotony of typing and answering brilliant questions on the phone for 8.5 hours qday prn mortgages/new shoes/dog food.