I Quit My Jobs For Yellowstone

The reality has hit.  I quit both of my jobs for my trip to Yellowstone.

How do I feel?

Happy dance.  Happy dance.








I am officially an unemployed social worker.  Of course there is my future employment as a room attendant at the Old Faithful Inn.

Is this a lateral move?

The number one job I quit was at the nursing home for behavior problems.

Remember these folks?

They would wear these outfits in a heart beat.

I'll miss them more than I care to admit.

Where else could I work where my behavior was considered normal?

The number two job was as a Hospice social worker.

We're always called "special people."

They don't know me very well, do they?

The number three job will be here when I get back.

That's retail Judy in her medical uniform store.

If you've worked retail, you'll know that there's worse things than being a social worker.

So I came home from work and put my feet up for a little outdoor relaxation.

Those are white socks, not my skin, by the way.  There really isn't much difference if you have to know.

Wait.  Something is missing.

Ahhhhh...a small glass of port in a small glass.

You have to have port by an open fire.

Here's the fire or what's left of the fire.


The only thing missing is a fine cigar.

I'm leaving it all behind for a chance to see this in person.

I can always find a social work job (oh please don't make me,) but I may never have a chance to see Yellowstone again.

I'll take my chances on that social work job.

This Has Nothing to do With Yellowstone

O.K. this has nothing to do with Yellowstone, but it's all I
have right now.  You don't want to hear about packing, I

don't want to think about packing, so we all win if I talk about something else.

I've been working at a nursing home for people with
behavior problems.  I don't know how to put this
delicately.  I don't want to make fun of them, cause I
love them, but OH MY GOODNESS! 

They don't exactly look like the folks in this picture, but it's close.  Trust me.  If they could get their hands on these costumes, they would wear them.  They do the best they can, though.  One gentleman has a snowman hat he wears when he's feeling festive. Sometimes it's huge joke glasses matched with bright blue capri pants and yellow socks.  Where did he get the stuff? 

My favorite little lady bobbles down the hall like a penguin.  I have to work real, real hard not to bobble right back at her.  Not that she would notice.  About ten or a thousand times a day she stops me to recite the same poem.  We all know it by heart, but we act surprised every time.

The Spook is pale, quiet and transparent.  O.K., I lied about being transparent.
One minute he's not there, the next minute he's right behind you.  You turn, he
mumbles something, then he glides off.  Kind of fun.  Kind of creepy. 






I don't have a picture for the next one and you should be grateful.  She's a busy, busy woman.  She takes things.  One day she "acquired" twelve watches from other residents.  Items of a certain size get stored on her in places that we cannot talk about and hence the reason there is no picture here.  Needless to say, no one wants their possessions back once she has them.

They colored Easter eggs today.  Everyone had a good time.  Some of them drank the dye.  Some ate the eggs before they got colored.  The rest just ended up with brightly colored fingers which seemed to be the best part for all of them.

These are my people.  I'm a little disturbed sometimes that I fit in so well.  Awwww, what the heck.  I have trouble fitting in with the "normals."  It's probably a good thing that I move on to Yellowstone before I start wearing multiple layers of clothes and start mumbling to myself.  I will miss them.   

Another Thing I'll Leave Behind

Hey….here’s something else I’m leaving behind to live in Yellowstone National Park.  It’s my luxurious office.

Remember, I’m a social worker.  We don’t get the corner offices with a view of the city.  We get closets, basements and places that don’t meet fire codes.

Currently, this is my palace at a nursing home for people with “behavior” problems.  You don’t even want to know about that.  Odd.  I always have jobs that make friends and family head for the door when I try to regale them with tales of my day.  I think the stories are fascinating…they turn green and gag.

For instance, (grab your barf bag) the dentist uses my office for resident examinations. 

I had only worked there a few months, so I wasn't

clear on what would actually happen when the

dentist visited. 

I’m thinking some cleanings or x-rays.

Maybe I wasn’t thinking at all which

was probably the case.  The next thing I know, we’re talking tooth extractions, right there in front of my desk. My residents don’t exactly care about being socially appropriate so there was a lot of screaming.    

Me and them, I think.

Are we clear now about my work environment?  And look at those wires above my chair.  I have no idea what that is all about.  I’m afraid if I accidently pull one of them, the whole state of Ohio will brown out

In case you’re interested, the gynecologist or proctologist doesn’t use my office.  Yes, I asked that question!    

My days here are few.  I will miss the residents and my co-workers, but it’s time to move on.  Bye, bye my little paradise.  Yellowstone beckons. 

.

A Little More About the Who of Yellowstone Dreaming

If you are going to follow me on this Yellowstone journey, you should know a little more about the cast of characters. First of all, there is me, the "reluctant" social worker. I'm not sure what possessed me to get a Masters in Social Work back in 1981, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Just close your eyes for a moment. Visualize a social worker. Do you see the centerfold for the swimsuit edition of Sports Illustrated or a grim faced old woman with sensible shoes? I do wear sensible shoes, but you see what I'm getting at. It isn't a sexy profession. And if I had a nickle for every time someone asked me, "So what does a social worker do?" I'd be, well...a social worker in expensive sensible shoes.

My resume in a nutshell is as follows: 18 years experience as a Hospice social worker, 2 years as a social worker in dialysis clinics, a brief job at a cancer center, and most recently, a nursing home social worker. As you can see, I know how to have a good time. Seriously, I learned a lot about compassion, the goodness of people, and most importantly, everyone has a story that is worth telling. Oh yes, in my spare time, my husband and I have a medical uniform business. There will be some unashamed advertising. Check out my favorite links for our website, scrubsdirect.com and Caesar Creek Markets where we have a store. It hasn't been dull, but it is time for a CHANGE. Sorry to use capital letters, but I want you to know that this is all about mixing it up.

I'm ready to move on. It's time to take my sensible shoes on the road to Yellowstone. They look better with jeans anyway. I even look forward to cleaning rooms just to have the satisfaction of completing mindless tasks. I look forward to spending time in the fresh air, to meeting people I don't have to place in a nursing home, to clearing out a corner of my brain that is clogged with social work tasks and finally, to just have a rip roaring good time.

Tomorrow, I will introduce you to my boys and the girlfriend. I am going to get in so much trouble, but what the heck. I've been embarrassing them for many years, and they still stick around. There may be pictures soon too. I've asked them to send me some of the ones they took last year, just to keep you interested. Until then...all is well.