What makes me a proofreader/editor/etc.?

After yesterday's post, I received several notes in my mail box and Dawn (the brave soul) commented below.

What makes me good at the above-listed? I can spell, for one. I excel at knowing where punctuation is SUPPOSED to be (as in, I'm one of those people who doesn't have to guess at where to put the comma and I know how and when to use a semi-colon). I recognize that the "grammar check" available in Word, Works, etc. isn't always correct, and I can recognize those instances. I have mastered the whole "maintaining a tense" that seems to be so troubling to people. I have a large vocabulary and can use it. What makes me even more effective with these particular books is the fact that I have a very strong grasp on the concepts and subject matter. And I love doing all of it.

I love taking our language apart and then putting it back together. I have had arguments over commas, over spacing, and over proper citation. This is what excites me. An auto-mechanic loves building, re-building, and fixing autos. I love doing this with the written text.

These, dear reader, are only a few of the reasons that I do what I do.

That said, this is my blog. It is more of a diary-type outlet. Things will be (and have been) misspelled, mis-punctuated, etc. Just because I sound like an illiterate idiot on my blog doesn't mean that I am. This is the one area of my life where I am not anal retentive. At least most of the time.

Phew! What a weekend!

So...got this call last week from a friend of mine. He and a colleague of his had gotten a book published that was RIDDLED with errors. Well, to make a long story short, he wanted me to do the editing of the book before it's reprinted. Cool beans! A paid gig, and I was supposed to have until school starts back up next month. Suffice it to say, it didn't happen that way. The publishing house shall remain nameless, but they were being jerks. So...Bob (my friend) calls me up on Friday and says, "We have until Tuesday. Can you get anything done before then?" Well, shitfire.

I needed to have everything I could emailed to Bob today. I finished the whole damn book, and had it all to him yesterday! Yippee!! And it was no small task...a reasonably academic book, with HUNDREDS (probably close to a thousand) errors. Errors which any editor, publisher, or proofreader should have caught. Hell, about a third of them could have been found by simply using spellcheck. But I digress...(I just hate it when my friends get screwed).

I literally spent the entire weekend in front of my computer. I didn't spend time with Fidget or the kids, I didn't play with the dogs, I didn't even go with the family to Fidget's dad's birthday dinner yesterday. In 2 days I spent more than 30 hours sitting in front of the computer.

I am stiff. I am sore. And yes, dear reader, I am whiny. Well, it's tongue-in-cheek whining, but it's the kind of whining I do best.

And that's all the excitement in my world today.

The Skunk Story

First of all, if you're going to get offended, stop reading here. There are things that happen while working in EMS that are humorous. That doesn't mean that those who are working take their jobs any less seriously. But there are things that happen that make the job very unique, and there are some things that may not be humorous in every day life, but are very funny when they happen on the job. Here is one story.

It was about midnight. Fidget and I were in our kitchen, drinking coffee and visiting with a couple of friends. The pager went off, indicating we needed to do an ALS (Advanced Life Support) transfer of a patient to a nearby facility. This was fairly routine, and since I was on-call I jumped in my truck and headed to the ambulance garage about 3 minutes away. En route, my medic called my cell phone to let me know that he was already in the ER with the patient and that I should grab the rig and head over right away. Got the rig, went to the hospital (across the street from the ambulance garage) and drug the cot and equipment into the ER.

Before I could even get the patient onto our cardiac monitor, the medic tells me that I am to do a stat (immediate) ABG (arterial blood gas) draw and run it. (I also worked in the cardiopulmonary department of the hospital, so my job with this patient was 2-fold.) I did my quick respiratory assessment of the patient and found him to be in severe respiratory distress.

After getting my equipment, I do the ABG's and find numbers at the "alarm" level. No surprise, but it gives the docs (both at the home hospital and the receiving hospital) a baseline. We load and go, and head out Code 3 (lights and sirens). The patient's wife is riding shotgun.

The medic had called in an extra EMT to assist him in the back, as our patient was a code waiting to happen. Just as we were leaving town for the receiving hospital (about 40 miles away), medic tells me to step on it. So we're hauling ass. Coming from a small town in the middle of nowhere, there was no traffic, so this wasn't a challenge.

My medic tells me to hold it steady. I know he's intubating (inserting a breathing tube in order to breathe for the patient) but doesn't want to alarm the patient's wife by saying that. As we're doing 75-80 mph, I see it. The timing couldn't be worse. I can't swerve, because to do so at that speed could injure the patient as well as the crew in the back. I can't slam on the brakes for the same reason. I say a quick, silent prayer and gently guide the rig in what I hope is a direction that will miss the skunk.

I hold my breath. I tentatively sniff the air a few times. Phew! Must have missed it. The patient's wife actually says, "Boy, that was close." You're not kidding. And then I hear something from the back of the rig.

"RETCH...GAG...RETCH...!!!" It's the EMT. "Oh...RETCH...My...GAG...God...RETCH...What the hell...GAG...is that?!"

I can't help it, I giggle. So does the patient's wife. The EMT is almost throwing up. I think she's messing with me, because I don't smell anything. Then the medic voices his unhappiness, "Did you hit a SKUNK?!" "Well, sort of, I think."
EMT: "Well, don't think anymore. You did. Oh God, it's awful."
Wife: "Oh, no. Now I smell it. I guess we didn't miss it after all."
RETCH...GAG...from the back.

And it was terrible. I must have hit it square. The only good news at this point is that our patient is blissfully unaware of our circumstance.

We arrive at the receiving facility, and we're met by one of their medics. Who immediately starts gagging. "Oh, God, you guys STINK!! Did you hit a skunk?" "Um...yeah." The security guard props the door open with his chair and heads for the men's room. It was bad.

As we're leaving, I'm given a new nickname (which stuck for almost 6 months) by their medic, "Stinky."

We scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. We soaked it in tomato juice. And scrubbed some more. The smell weakened, but we couldn't get rid of it. The next day, I went back to wash the rig again: And the entire ambulance garage REEKED. I opened all 3 bay doors, turned on fans in the office, hosed everything down. It took about 2 weeks for the smell to go completely away.

And that, dear readers, is the skunk story.

I Am an Idiot

Okay. So, I was going to post today with some lovely pictures of our rats...er dogs. I cannot get the damn pictures off the camera and onto the computer. Sigh. The really sad part of this, is that I've done it before. I have a theory.

It was explained to me recently that a person with a bachelor's degree will generally have a higher IQ score than someone with a master's. A person with a master's will have a higher score than someone with a phd. Therefore, school must make a person dumber.

Since I have been attending college since the last time I put pictures on the computer, apparently my education is doing exactly what it's supposed to do: it's making me an idiot.

Update on the List of 8

Because I've had several readers send me emails/comments about some of the items on my list, I thought I would go ahead and address them here:

1. Anonymous and everyone else: I am more than happy to share how I lost the weight.
There are some products that I'm taking (non-prescription) that have helped me. I won't share exactly what they are here, as they are not necessarily made for weight loss and I don't want anyone saying I'm pretending to be a doctor/health guru. That said, if you're interested in what they are simply send me an email (I think it's find-able if you click to look at my profile, otherwise it's qatoblog a t gmail.com) and I will email you back. You can still do this anonymously by going to a free email site and signing up for a free email account. Just make sure you put qato or something like that in the subject line.
Mostly what I'm doing is eating less and moving more. I walk as much as I can, and help some friends out on their farm as much as possible. I try to pay attention to what I eat (keeping a food journal helps lots of people, but I can't ever seem to keep one for more than a couple of days no matter how well I'm doing). I don't really deny myself anything, but when I want a brownie I only have a bite or two as opposed to the whole thing.

2. Yes, I will share the skunk vs. ambulance story. Look for it coming up.

3. Yes, I am willing to share pictures of our dogs after their most recent haircut. I just have to figure out how to hook the camera up to the computer and get the picture on the blog. Shouldn't take me more than 6 or 8 months, tops. (Seriously, I'll try to figure it out this weekend.)

4. Yes, I used to use drugs. Lots of them. Frequently. I no longer partake in "better living through chemistry." The only drugs I take are ones that are prescribed, and only when it is absolutely necessary.

I think that about covers it.

Yikes! I've Been Tagged!

I've been tagged by Chari and am now compelled to provide, in no particular order, eight random facts/habits about myself that you may or may not know [or even care]. However, the rules dictate that I provide the rules first:

1. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
2. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them each a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

So, here are 8 random facts about me:
1. FACT: I can wiggle my eyebrows, and I enjoy doing so because inevitably whomever sees me do this tries to do it. They are never successful.
2. FACT: I have lost 70 pounds so far. Despite the fact that I'm still a fat ass, I'm much happier with the way I look. I actually found a couple of muscles the other day. The woman they belonged to didn't necessarily appreciate me finding them, but has agreed not to press charges so long as I abide by the restraining order.
3. FACT: Despite the fact that I'm not very good at it, I derive a sense of accomplishment from trimming our dogs. After their most recent hair cut, we have removed all mirrors from the house and will be getting them therapy lest the ASPCA come back to inquire about the large rats again.
4. HABIT: I am anal-retentive about shirt collars. They must be folded and lined up correctly. People around me who don't share my retentiveness don't always appreciate my help. Especially Fidget.
5. FACT: The one and only time anyone actually called the police on me, it was for mowing their lawn. Okay, it was the early 90's, I was using meth and had apparently decided that everyone on my side of the street needed their lawns mowed. The fact that I had been mowing for 13 hours had nothing to do with the call to the police, I'm sure. Nor the fact that I hadn't bothered to actually ask anyone if they WANTED me to mow their lawn. Oops.
6. FACT: I was never a Girl Scout. I got kicked out the Brownies for kissing another little girl. Hey, she drug me into the closet! When I did stand-up (one fun summer) I used to say that I got kicked out of Girl Scouts for eating a Brownie.
7. FACT: I ran over a skunk with an ambulance at about 80 miles an hour.
8. FACT: I've taught two of my cats to play fetch. Okay...they're cats. Most likely, they trained me to throw the toy.

So, now I'm supposed to tag 8 other people. Hmmm...Do I know 8 people? A sad realization has come to me...I'm a loser with no blogging pals. I'll tag as many as I can, forgive me for bending the rules:

Dawn
Cranky Chick
MJ--Damn, I don't know her but was going to tag her anyway. Looks like she's already been tagged.
Karen

Now, if I can just manage to get these 3 tagged, it looks like I'm done. Thanks, Chari!

Disclaimer: If for some reason you wanted to be tagged and weren't, please contact the blog author and a tag will be sent. Equal Opportunity Tagger.