Is this still El Nino? If so, that kid needs a time-out, for sure...

Today began much like any other--cooofffeee (I know that goes without saying, but whatever), prepping for work, wishing the kids a good day at the Salt Mines--I mean, "school". Aaand, then it promptly started slipping off the rails. When I settled into the office with another cuppa joe (hey, don't judge) to check email, I was intrigued to see one from our building's management company...alerting us about the "impending weather" (with a helpful link to the local forecast--you know, in case we didn't believe them, or something)...and providing an attachment with advice about what to do in case of a tornado. 

Well...good morning, everybody! My coworkers and I had a little chuckle about this in the hallway...although they did get serious for a moment to inquire of the Safety Coordinator (yep, that would be Yours Truly) where we should take cover in the unlikely event of a twister. On that note, the impromptu 9:15 Meeting ended, and we all went our separate ways to buckle down to business...and whatnot.

Shortly thereafter, the director popped her head in to announce that at least one county in our vicinity
had made the call to cut their academic day short by a few hours, since the brunt of the storm system was scheduled to arrive right around dismissal time. I checked, but there was nothing related to the boys' schools--and while there were intermittent showers all day, nothing appeared particularly severe or worrisome. I checked some things off my To Do List; I tidied up my desk; I headed home; and everything continued humming along smoothly. 

Then, at 3:08--or just about exactly when Riley would have been set free, I read this email: 
Good afternoon. In the course of monitoring the current weather patterns, we were able to get our elementary schools dismissed on time, however, we will hold off on dismissing our middle and high schools until we feel it is safe. Parents feeling a need to pick up their children are welcome to do so, however we would suggest the school is a safe place to stay until the storm passes. We will be in touch once a specific release time is determined or when new information is available. 

Oh, here we go...on an amusing side note: in case we didn't fully get the picture, the wind picked up to gale force around that time, and a ferocious rumble of thunder rolled through the heavens. (Okay, okay, point taken, already!) Husband came bustling upstairs to report that Riley had texted him from his classroom, asking to be retrieved. Being the responsible parent that he is, Dad dutifully called the secretary to inform her that he'd be coming, and obtained permission for Riley's release. He then drove over to the school....where he got drenched at the front door waiting in vain for someone to answer the buzzer. After 15 minutes, he gave up and left--returning home to grouse about the fact that Riley wasn't responding to either a phone call or text, and educational personnel had suddenly gone all incommunicado on us.

But wait! Having been on Facebook a few minutes prior to that, I was aware that Chapel Hill had just recently been issued an official Tornado Warning. (And by the way, how the HECK did people get their information before the Internet? I mean really, I'd be completely in the dark without it...) Therefore I speculated that the schools were following shelter-in-place procedures, and Riley probably wasn't allowed to use his phone anyway. Sure enough, at 4:08, this arrived: 
Greetings. We are currently in a tornado warning and have all students and parents who were in the area taking cover.  Once the warning is lifted, we will release students and parents.  Buses have NOT yet loaded and will not do so until it is safe.  Please do not call this school at this moment as we are all in cover mode.

Ay yi yi. Meanwhile, a somewhat spectacular torrent of waterfall-like precipitation had begun to pound down from the sky, accompanied by impressive gusts of wind, buffeting the tall trees the fill our neighborhood in a manner that I found quite...unsettling. Although frankly, here in the security of the house, I was less concerned about the weather, and more nervous that Derek, who normally consumes about, oh, let's say 1,000 calories in his daily after-school binge, was wasting away to a grouchy, (even) skinny(er than usual) teenager while stuck at school.

FI-NAL-LY, at 5:02, the prisoners were paroled: Thank you to everyone for your patience today. We are beginning the dismissal process now. Middle school buses will depart first. However, there may be trees and power lines down that make rerouting necessary in some cases along with consequent delays. Once the middle school buses complete their runs, they will pick up the high school students. That typically takes about 45 minutes.

Sure... that's progress and overall good news...however, we were still in the middle of a deluge, so I set off in the car to see if I could intercept Riley on his walk home and at least drive him part of the way. I spotted one of his regular pedestrian buddies nearing the house...but no Riley. Making the turn toward his school's parking lot, I spied a kid in the distance that looked familiar...it could have been my child...but when I approached the site, he had mysteriously...disappeared. 

To sum up: yep, that WAS the rare, elusive green-jacketed Riley...who had ducked into the woods to try and escape the downpour...and therefore inadvertently thwarted his mother's search mission. I continued driving around in circles seeking to rescue him...until he texted me that he was home, and sorry he'd missed me. Siiiiighhhhhh. (At least of the two parents who attempted unsuccessfully to apprehend one slippery 7th grader...I was the lucky individual who didn't come back "soaked to my underwear" as Husband so colorfully described it. Yaaayyy, me?)

In a decidedly more pleasant turn of events, Derek arrived home before I expected him, and in a remarkably cheerful mood after his...well, I guess it wasn't much of an ordeal if he wasn't even bothered by it."Oh, yeah, I Snap-Chatted with my friends for an hour, then one of their moms showed up and gave us all a ride home!" he breezily explained--in between bites of that aforementioned ginormous post-learning snack he was busy consuming. 

Approximately 5 minutes later, he asked, "Can I go outside?" Yes, the meteorological mayhem had abruptly ceased--in fact, the sun had broken through the angry clouds, revealing patches of blue sky. It was N-U-T-S, I tell ya. I allowed him to venture into the Great Outdoors and meet his pals...after issuing a stern warning to "Stay. Away. From. The. CREEK!" (You know, the one that ate his glasses in December? Here's what it looked like after today's buckets 'o rain:

I know, right: yikes! And yet...then, for our...I don't know...patience and fortitude and blah blah blah, we were rewarded with this:

Ahhhh, that's definitely more like it. But I must say, Wednesday was certainly a WEE bit more... exciting than it ever truly needs to be. So how about it: let's hear it for...Totally Boring Thursday! Whoo Hoo!

Where "Work" and "Kindergarten" Meet

And now, for a bit of nostalgia...remember elementary school? Those carefree days when milk and cookies, story time, and bright shiny stickers for good work were a regular part of our lives? Man, sometimes I miss the simplicity of that byegone era...although, technically, I suppose I can still enjoy all of those things...if it's a small portion of a trans-fat-free treat...reduced-sugar almond milk...and a book without pictures. As for the last one, hang on and we'll catch up with that in a minute.

Now, you might have gathered that I kind of....well...loved many aspects of being a student. And yes, I was indeed that Hermione-ish pupil who raised her hand to answer questions, always had a comment to contribute to class discussions, and proudly collected (and saved) her "Nice work!" notes from the teacher because of the warm fuzzies they gave her when she looked through them later. (Oh. My. Gosh. Reading back over this, I sound like sooooo much more of a nerd in bold black and white than I ever thought I was in Real Life. YIKES. And that's why sometimes writing is not for the faint of heart, y'all...moving on...)

Anyway, even the geekiest little kid must grow up, and learn a cold, hard truth: they just don't hand out lollipops and "Great Job" hand stamps once you hit the academic big time...like Middle or High School. Sure, you still have your grades to encourage you (if you're so inclined...which, yeah, of COURSE I was...) but it's not the same as receiving public recognition for your success. I mean, who doesn't appreciate a pat on the back or some kind words of praise for doing good...stuff?

But when you finish your formal education, and (hopefully) obtain gainful employment somewhere out there in the World of Adults...just fuhgeddabout it. Don't get me wrong--there's the huge perk known as the "paycheck", which should not be overlooked, in terms of its motivational and positive reinforcement value. And yet...scrumptious snacks as a reward? Joyful smiley faces written in colorful magic marker at the top of an assignment to let you know your efforts were pleasing? These are wonderful as well, yeah? But they are also, sadly, a thing of the past, my friends.

And then I started working at my current company, a nonprofit organization dedicated to researching any and all aspects of children and families, and presenting their findings for the purpose of influencing policy and procedures to support successful outcomes for these groups. Wow, that's a mouthful. But the point is, the company promotes an inspiring, supportive environment for its employees...for example, an annual awards ceremony to honor outstanding performance in a variety of categories. Naturally, these are given out for noteworthy accomplishments on the local or even national level.

When I joined our little southeast division, however, I noticed right away that one of my co-workers was displaying an array of (photocopied, but still) Gold Stars on her door (one of which, upon closer inspection, thanked her for leading the search and hiring process for the new Program Assistant...um, yeah...that would be "me"). "Cool!" I thought, immediately followed by a slightly wistful "I wonder if I'll ever get one?" And lo and behold, last Thursday, the director (a very nice lady who works two doors down the hall--I mentioned we were small, right?) stopped by to present me with my very own Gold Star for the way I took care of something that needed to be repaired in our suite recently. Really, the reason is entirely insignificant, what's important is that I GOT MY OWN GOLD STAR, dude!

Yes, I had a brief flashback to my elementary experiences. Uh-huh, I felt a total rush of....nerdy euphoria. She somewhat sheepishly handed it to me and said, "You don't have to hang this up if you don't want to,"--like she was giving me permission to think it was absolutely dorky and there was no way I was ever going to embarrass myself by putting something so silly up at the entrance to my office. Whaaaaat? I didn't give her a chance to get any further, stopping her with a heartfelt, "Are you kidding me? Where's the tape? This baby is going right the heck up on my door this instant! Seriously? Sometimes it really IS all about the little things...

Oh, and you'll recall the co-worker with the stellar collection of paper bling on her door? That same day, she brought in a container full of the most delectable homemade brownies for us all to share. So to sum up: appreciation...sweets...wait a second...AND I'm being paid?  Now, that's what I'm talking about, folks...

What's Up With Winter?

Well, since this is the second Winter in Chapel Hill for Team Westenders, it seems like a good time for a little anecdotal review. Last year, we experienced what people told us was the "typical" season--overnight lows in the 20s or 30s, with temps rising to around 50 most of the time, punctuated by bursts of colder weather that would stick around for a couple of days or so. We had one furious bout of ice and snow that pretty much shut down the region for 2 weeks in February...and then Spring arrived as we had been promised it would...March 1st.

So....2015-16 has been....downright weird (y'all). To begin with, Fall warmth lingered through December...all the way into January. (Seriously, when I--the Queen of...Hypothermia...which, although well-earned, is NOT such a desirable title, you must agree--can exercise outside in shorts and a tee shirt...it is, shall we say, "unusually mild".) Then we got hit with a relatively minor storm that deposited a couple of inches of snow, along with a light crusty coating of ice...which resulted in schools being closed for 3 days. (Ay yi yi...the South....says the oh-so-jaded Mid-Atlantic chick who grew up only 300 miles north of here...where, incidentally, they received almost 3 FEET of the white stuff from the same system . Please hold on while I count my blessings....and knock on wood for good measure...)

So far, things had been all kinds of...whackadoo abnormal (she states in a completely unscientific manner, yet with a firm tone of authority). I think we can infer that February is, in fact, generally the chilliest month around here. We've seen some numbers on the thermometer in the teens when we wake up in the morning, and felt some brisk winds and shivery....weeks, actually. In order to make up the missed instructional time, our local school system added President's Day back into the calendar--only to cancel it once again due to icy roads and sidewalks from sleet that fell overnight. (Ha! Cruel irony...unless of course you're a student, feeling vindicated...)

Then, this being Dixie (eh, kind of), the frigid stuff released its hold on us, and we were graced with mercury in the 50s once more (as we selfishly expect, I'm not gonna lie). Suddenly it didn't quite feel like Winter anymore, as Husband and I both took advantage of the pleasant afternoon to go running today, and Derek and Riley each joined their soccer team for practice (Granted, Derek has been working out with his team since Thanksgiving, so that's nothing new. But Riley's squad is just getting organized for "Spring"...in February...go figure! And yeah, the fields were a...muckety mess...out there...but no one seemed to mind. Boys!)

One final note: the Powers That Be chose to add the hours back in from the latest school cancellation by converting 3 upcoming Delayed Openings into full teaching days. That's all good--no harm, no foul, except that the kids don't get an extra couple of weekdays to sleep in...they'll live. However, they opted NOT to change tomorrow's late start. At first I thought perhaps it was too close, and maybe they already have meetings or workshops planned, that they would prefer not to postpone. Riley and his friends apparently came up with another reason, though: UNC happens to play (mumble mumble "the other local team in blue that we don't like")....a rather important basketball game this evening. The 7th graders hypothesized that, since so many students--and teachers--would watch the broadcast (which by the way doesn't even start until 9 p.m.), they kept the 2-hour grace period in the schedule to allow folks to rest up before appearing for business as usual in the Hallowed Halls of Academia.

When he shared this with me, I thought it was brilliant....but also utterly RIDICULOUS. I mean, it's just preposterous to even consider making programming decisions based on college hoops, right? And yet...you have to try to imagine for a moment the rabid, hard-core fandom that permeates this area...and remember exactly which 2 universities we're talking about...and then it seems...if not completely rational, per se...then at least much more likely...that this contest-on-the-court factored into the equation. I don't know for sure that it did...I'm just saying I can believe it...yet am still shaking my head. Not entirely certain if I'm proud...or embarrassed...to be part of this whole...sports circus. (Let's just go with "bemused" for now and leave it at that....)

So, anyway...with luck, we're headed out of the freezy season...and the Tarheels take down the Blue Devils in the Dean Dome to claim ACC bragging rights. And all will be well in the Triangle...

The Force is Strong in This One...

Team WestEnders rarely goes out to see movies. Don't get me wrong, we thoroughly enjoy the whole theater experience--the previews, the plush seats, the cupholders, the big screen...the snacks.Yep, give us (and by "us" I mean...well..."me", 'cuz I'm not sharing...get your own) a tub of popcorn with (super-bad-for-you, but what the heck?) liquid butter and a vat o'diet soda (also unhealthy, but did I mention how much I don't care in this case?), and we're in our own personal Cinema Heaven. (Right...did I mention we don't do this very often? So we're pretty easy to please...)

Anyway, a brand spankin' new theater opened in Chapel Hill, and it was marketed as being a very upscale, luxurious setting in which to view a film. And it just so happened that we hadn't managed to make it out as a family yet to catch the most recent Star Wars installment. (What can I say? Time flies...) Factoring in the ice-planet-Hoth-like temperatures this weekend, it seemed the perfect opportunity to kill two...AT ATs...with one stone. (See what I did, there? I'm soooo ready for this...)

So I purchased our tickets online--as the kids do these days--and found that times, they have a'changed. Similar to when you book with an airline, at the Silverspot you choose your own assigned seats. Okay, so far I'm down with this whole process. Then, just out of curiosity, I checked the menu listed for the venue. I'm sorry...BLT Lobster Roll? Dry-Aged Cheeseburger? BRUSSELS SPROUTS? What the WHAT? Suddenly I was less enthused and more...unnerved. Where's the good old fashioned popcorn? And, I see the page-long specialty beer and wine menu...but what if they don't have plain carbonated beverages? Gulp...we may have signed up for something a bit more...fancy schmancy...than we bargained for, my friends.

However, our fears were alleviated when we actually showed up in the lobby. There was a lovely, familiar concessions stand with all of the M&Ms and Twizzlers and other standard items prominently displayed (and the froufy ones on the sign as well, if you lean that way--no judgment, to each his own). Reassured, we ventured down the hall to our designated room, to find the auditorium itself somewhat of a revelation. Wide, ever-so-comfortably padded chairs with an abundance of footroom awaited us. I did wonder at the time why each armrest boasted not one, but two spaces for drinks; this was answered for me later when I spotted a couple, each of whom was carrying their own individual mini-bottle of wine...and plastic cup. (You need space for both of them, yeah? Genius! Also, I realized that I was clearly underutilizing the theater's amenities. Memo to Self: next time, order a grown-up libation...)

With all of the preliminaries taken care of, we settled into our designated places and prepared to be wowed. As far as the physical layout: the screen was enormous, the sound was good, the stadium setup was effective. Check, check, check on all the design details. As for the movie itself? (Which I recognize is a whole separate category--but this is my review, so I'll lump whatever the heck I want in here, okay?) Husband had remained at home, due to a migraine that prohibited him from being able to deal with thunderous explosions and bright lightsaber battles and....whatnot. But the other 3/4 of Team WestEnders...L-O-V-E-D it.

Of course, I grew up with Episodes 4-6 (which at the time were the ONLY ones, so we knew them exclusively by their original names); I adored them, and saw each one enough times to be able to quote lines accurately. The boys have also seen the first trilogy (the only group that really matters, according to their admittedly biased parents) so were up-to-speed on the plotline. What was amusing to me (and heartwarming, I'm not gonna lie) was that we all were able to catch references to the earlier stories, and pick up on parallel features between the old and the new movies. (Desert planet. Crashed spaceship. Renegade 'droid hiding secret message. Badass chick. Swashbuckling dude. Jedis. Good guy gone dark. Evil empire. Defiant rebels. Stuff blowing up. Harrowing high-speed aerial chases. Even a cantina scene, for crying out loud. And as if that weren't enough, already, the colossal bonus of Han and Leia and Luke, and even C3PO and R2D2 and the freakin' Millenium Falcon. Is it any wonder it was so doggone satisfying?)

So, we had a great time in the car on the way home discussing the ways in which this seemed to be essentially a reboot of the 70s films, for a new generation of fans...and listing the questions that were left unanswered to be explored in the next part. On the whole, we agreed that Force Awakens did the series proud...and that we're definitely psyched to see the follow-up...just, maybe at the regular-folks theater, instead!

That Was a Close One..

You know, sometimes I'm supposed to write a post, based on the loose schedule I try to follow....but I just don't have anything in mind...so I waffle between putting it off for another day, or working to scrounge up an idea. Today was that kind of situation. "There's no story," I lamely concluded, "because nothing's happened lately." WELL! I'm sorry to report that my--evidently extremely powerful--thoughts were picked up by the fickle universe...leading to a most unfortunate result...that's right, I, personally, am responsible for JINXING my family! Here's how it went down:

Derek had his initial soccer match of the "Spring". (Seriously? February 7th? 46 chilly degrees with an accompanying stiff wind do NOT make for comfortable outdoor spectating, I'm here to tell ya...) Riley and I stayed for half, then went our own way to buy supplies for his "construction of a 3D cell model" science project. When Husband and player arrived home, there was something obviously wrong...Derek wore an agonized grimace and held his right arm cradled close to his body. According to his official report: with his arm raised in front of him, he took a ball in the air that hit his outstretched hand, jamming his wrist backwards toward his body. Um....OWWWWW. (Oh, but he stayed on the field, as his team was already a man short for the contest. Oy...)

So...this actually represents the first soccer mishap--besides the occasional, expected bumps and bruises--for Team WestEnders. And as I sat there evaluating his expression, as well as the way he was protecting his entire limb as much as possible from any movement, I began to have doubts about whether it was merely a sprain...or a broken bone somewhere in there. When I asked him to extend it for me to compare to his other arm, he did so only with great difficulty...and then I didn't much like the swollen, discolored appearance. Okey dokey: next up, an exciting trip to the Emergency Room! (Notable: "Injury visit to the ER" is also a Not-So-Fabulous First for us....)

While still pondering the options, I asked Husband, "If it's only a sprain, what's the recommended care? Is it RICE?" And I swear, the man looked at me and--clearly without considering the consequences of his rash smart-aleck tendencies--responded, "Oh, I don't know...I  prefer couscous!" (Yes, punishment was enacted swiftly in the form of a sharp poke to the gut. It never cures him...but it's soooo satisfying to deliver...) Meanwhile Derek--bless his pain-addled brain--shook his head in confusion and said, "For a minute, there, I thought you were talking about what you do to your phone if you drop it in water! You know, put it in a bag full of dry rice? And I was wondering how that would help...but I get it, now!" (Forehead...meet palm...)

Okay, moving on: when I informed Derek that I believed it would be wise to have x-rays, a professional opinion, and treatment of some kind, he looked at me as if I were speaking, I don't know...maybe Martian? "What...NOW?" he asked incredulously. "Yeeessss....that's the general idea, dear," I replied with only an admirable minimum of sarcasm (I was feeling quite parentally sympathetic, after all). "But...it's Super Bowl Sunday!" he sputtered indignantly. (Oh. Good. Grief. I would say "You've gotta be kidding me"...but really, I'm not surprised in the least...)

Nevertheless, we assured him that it was an absolutely necessary precaution--then to prove our point, I assisted him in removing his jersey and replacing it with a clean shirt...Riley took care of his socks...Husband put on his shoes...no way was this kid going to escape without having a doctor give him the once-over. As he left with Husband for his inaugural visit to UNC's Healthcare Center, his parting shot was a stubbornly resolute, "This better be quick; I have to get to my friend's house for the game!" (Sure, sweetie. Have fun storming the...hospital!)

Watching them walk out the door, Riley was brimming with concern for his brother, as evidenced by his comment, an utterly forlorn, "If Dad and Derek are gone...who's gonna watch it with ME?" For the love of...I guess that would be your mother, darling--you know, the one who utterly loathes football? (Sheesh, the things we do for our children...) Anyway, as it turned out, it was just a sprain after all. Derek got a removable splint, along with instructions on A) exercises to keep it from stiffening up too much B) the proper, effective use of ibuprofen and C) how to perform our old favorite: RICE, And he must be fine, because Husband dropped him directly off at the aforementioned buddy's house in time for the second half...where I'm sure he's regaling them with the tale of his ordeal...and basking in the attention.

So, with a sigh of relief, I declare that all is well. We narrowly avoided having to chronicle the first Team WestEnders broken bone. (That's right, NONE of us has ever fractured anything...DOH! I take that back! Not jinxing it! Knocking on wood! Throwing salt over shoulder! Dang--I don't have a rabbit's foot handy...quick, what else is lucky?) Perhaps equally as important: since his father is back to keep Riley company, I'm released from my obligation to pay any heed whatsoever to the...gridiron...brouhaha. Now that's what I call a Win-Win!

Lifesaving 101

Way back in the day (no, I honestly don't remember specifically when, so I'm gonna have to be vague...just go with it...) I took a course offered by the Red Cross, that covered the basics of First Aid and CPR. It kinda goes without saying that this is good stuff, and probably everyone should know it...but time passes, and you forget what you learned, and they amend procedures as the medical field evolves. The bottom line is: at some point you have to get your butt back in the classroom for a refresher. For me, that point was, oh, "right about now", since at my new job one of my duties for our very small office is to act as the Safety Coordinator. It therefore falls within my responsibility to be certified in these wellness-related topics, you know, "just in case ".

WELL...let me tell ya, folks, I found out very quickly that this is...um..."not your father's Red Cross", shall we say. First of all, you search for the session that fits your schedule and register for it on their website...while I'm pretty sure the last time I went through the process I had to send a letter via carrier pigeon and wait for a reply. Kidding! Nah--in all seriousness, I probably had to look up the number in the phone book, call the office, wait for the receptionist to present me with the options, put my name on a (paper) list...and mail a check. (Yes, it WAS the Dark Ages....also known as "Pre-Internet"...)

Aaannd, here's where it gets all kinds of...wackadoo digital. My original experience involved several hours in a face-to-face teaching situation, with both lecture time and practice using the skills on either a human partner (for pretend-injury scenarios) or a resusci-dummy (for simulated cardiac events). In the modern era, however, the confirmation email you receive shortly after signing up guides you to the online materials, which you must successfully complete prior to showing up for the practical portion. That's right, my friends, I'm talking about saving people...via VIDEO GAME.

It was kind of mind-blowing--even for this Gen Xer who's perfectly familiar and comfortable with technology--to try to absorb the lessons by watching animated stories on a screen...and making choices with a computer mouse. Now, part of it was definitely...geekily satisfying--you could watch the "effectiveness meter" inch closer to the green side, as you clicked on the right selections. And at the end of the "mission" you were awarded 1, 2, or 3 stars, depending on the quality of care you'd provided. And yes, if you're wondering, I did, in fact, feel compelled to go back and repeat any of the modules in which I only scored the minimum to pass. Hey, it's true that I'm a perfectionist...but if your life was on the line, I think you'd prefer at least a 2-star rescuer, am I right? (So there!)

I have to admit, though, that sometimes it was frustrating to deal with the very rigid paradigm of... cyber-instruction. For example, the program requires you to do everything in the exact order they prescribe, or you can't move forward. But in an actual emergency, even without choosing the stupid little bubble that tells me to "scan for severe bleeding" I like to think I'd notice the presence of GUSHING BLOOD, if it was, you know, spouting from the victim lying on the ground at my feet. And when it came to practicing chest compressions? Puh-leez. Forgive me if I'm a bit skeptical that pressing the mouse button 30 times is going to help me adequately pump a real person's heart and get it going again. (Yeah...maybe this works better for a Millennial...ha!) And then there was the time I got...virtually reprimanded...for failing to notice and remove a potential hazard lying on the floor in the 2D restaurant. Um, hellooooo...I am confident that if a life-sized, sharp, bloody knife was present, I'd have the sense to take care of it. Sigh...

Anyway, I did eventually finish the lessons, at an acceptable level of proficiency (to me). Therefore all that remained was the hands-on training at the local Red Cross location. Here, again, things had changed a bit in the intervening...decades....since my prior seminar. Most notably, we were given plastic gloves and a "breathing barrier" right off the bat, and advised that if we did not happen to have these in our possession when encountering a person in distress, it was up to our discretion whether to treat them, as the situation would be deemed "hazardous" to an unprotected bystander. Then, some aspects were more familiar--like the CPR cycles of compressions and rescue breaths. I did get singled out by the instructor early on...and advised to..."push harder". Oy. Now, I'm not a terribly...sizable...person, so I wanted to respond, "Dude, have you looked at me? Trust me when I tell ya, I'm giving it all I've got, here."

On the whole, though, he was a funny guy--from New York, and quite...blunt. This came out in his instructional style, such as when he told us, "You might hear a suspicious noise the first time you push down on someone's chest. Ribs break. Cartilage tears. These things happen, and if you manage to keep the person alive, doctors can repair the damage later." Then he sent a piercing glance around the room to emphasize his point as he added, "But you can't fix DEAD... so don't worry about it, and keep doing what you're doing." Or when fellow student brought up the idea that in order to maintain the correct pace for compressions, she had heard one suggestion to follow the rhythm of the old Bee Gees song "Stayin' Alive". (Aargh....excellent use of a horrible song, I suppose...also, it could be beneficial when one is becoming exhausted by the exertion, to have some...Distraction by Disco? Or whatever...) In response, he quipped, "Yeah, there's another tune that has the right beat; it's by the band Queen." He paused for effect before delivering the punchline, "It's called "Another One Bites the Dust". I don't recommend singing it out loud, though...."

So, I survived (ha! sorry...) my whirlwind tour through the world of First Aid and CPR for non-medical personnel. With my certificate in hand, I can return to my workplace...and hope like heck I NEVER have to use ANY of this information in real life. At least if I do, I've downloaded the Red Cross application (yes, there's an app for that...are you even the slightest bit surprised?) to my phone, so I can review the steps before assisting. Anyway, do me a favor and stay safe and healthy for me, will ya? Then you can avoid having to hear me humming "Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive..."