Work and FLARZENSHET in QUOTIDIEN

Last day at Dianne's was Friday. Gave a crash course on stoma care, and changing out a catheter. Also provided instructions on how to get a clean urine sample. That's when her husband says, 'the ER took it straight from the cath bag'. And because they are the medical professionals, no matter how wrong they are, Or how much it flies in the face of reason, I'm the one that has been misled.

I do like the new girl. She is energetic, and doesn't appear to fluster. I hope she works out for Dianne.

New job front: I got the coveted job of Concierge. Jon, my manager, said that when the job came open, the office's general consensus was that this job was tailor-made for me. Im delighted. While I know I could have done nights, I am tickled pink that this became available when it did. There will be no resetting of my circadian clock.

What will I do? Basically, I am greeter at a secured location. No one comes or goes but through me. I scan their passes. I am also the person employees will call in the event of an emergency. I work two, twelve hour shifts, then two, eight-hour shifts. And in Friday, I continue my work for the Evangelism center.

Got my uniforms. All pants, which all have a 40" inseam will all have to be cut down to a accommodate my short legs. Who, here, has a forty inch inseam, I ask you?!

Flarzenshet!

This is an old story (about 25 years, actually), but it came to mind this morning when I peered out the window and noticed that hell had resurfaced wearing a costume made of snow! My poor greening garden.

My brother-in-law, Douglas, had been in the in the Army for a couple of years and was being trained in intelligence. No worries, though. I heard the Army was fully capable of undertaking such a lofty task. At any rate, they sent the boy to Germany for full-immersion language and interrogation classes. He'd been gone for quite some time, so his coming home was very much an event. We were prepared to be regaled with stories from abroad, and the he did not disappoint. We laughed, and shivered with excitement at all of the appropriate places. And we ate all of the feel-good country fare we could stomach.

As the evening came to a close, Doug, now (only) two-sheets to the wind, announced that he had to get home to deal with the flarzenshet. While the clan proffered gentle groans of sadness at his plans to leave, this Canook was still trying to decipher this German sounding word.

'Excuse me. EXCUSE ME! What is it you have to take care of?' I figured he was showing off, and bringing his German to the table.

People looked at me, then back to Doug hoping for some kind of clue. Doug shrugged.

'Flarzenshet. What is flarzenshet?'

And EVERYONE burst out laughing. They all knew. Wtf?!

And slowly as if speaking to the daft, Doug tried to clear the mud for me. 'Flarz en shet'.

Damned country folk! 'Could someone please tell me in English?'

But before anyone could speak, my tuner finally kicked in. 'Oooh! Dammit! You meant Flowers and shit.'

The story gets retold at EVERY family event, now, about how they had to teach me plain English.