A Day in the Life of a Would-Be Bambi: what you don't see are all the weeds

I've been thinking about the name of my blog and thought I should share what a Day in the Life of a Would-Be Bambi really is. Well, I don't really know exactly what it is. But what I do know is what a day in my life is like so I thought I'd share a little with you.

The first thing I do is wake up at ~~the butt-crack of dawn~~ 5:45 and take Jenny, the oh-so-elegantly sprawled dog to the left, and Juneau (my favorite child ---shhhhh!) on their daily walk. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, we stumble out of bed and go for a walk. Ok that's not true. If it's raining I usually say "screw it" but then I always pay for it later. The deal is that Jenny, our rescue dog, has to poop in very specific places. I can't just shoo her out the door and expect her to do her business. It's a very methodical process and everything has to go just right. God forbid a bird should happen to call, a mild breeze should blow past her butt, or a hapless fly should happen by, poor Jenny wont poop. Trust me. I know. Although what goes in must eventually come out, and if she doesn't poop on the morning walk , I know it's coming out somewhere in my house. Again, only in special places (like on the rug I bought in Turkey, or in front of #6s room - much to her chagrin. Teenage girls do not like poop. Especially not stinky fat dog poop.

After the morning constitutional takes place, I quickly shower and dress for work. At least lately. I do relief work, so luckily I have many days that I can move a bit slower. However I am taking over for a pharmacist on maternity leave so I actually have to get up and go to work most days. It kinda sucks.

My next stop is non-negotiable. I think we all know where this is heading. My neighborhood starbucks. I usually get a grande skinny caramel latte, but lately I've super-sized to a quad venti skinny caramel latte. Must be because I know that it's going to be 98 degrees out I feel the need to get as much coffee in me at one time. Or because working 5 or 6 days a week (when you're used to 2 or 3) kinda sucks.

After I have purchased my mega-latte (ok and sometimes I also purchase a cinnamon scone, does that really make me a bad person???) I begin my commute to work. This is not usually too bad as I tend to stay in a 30mi radius (I prefer the 4mi radius, but I follow the money...)

This summer my job is 11 miles from my house, so it's a pretty easy commute. Or should be. If it weren't construction season... (this isn't my photo, but the credits are in the link)

Anyway, my drive to work is usually uneventful and I have time to ponder speed limits, life, or myself in an Audrey Hepburn 'do...

Once I get to the pharmacy the real fun beings. I get about a bazillion calls from druggies wanting to know if their vicodin/xanax/lorcet/soma/ativan/ultram is ready.

In addition there are the many calls of the regualr people wanting refills on blood pressure, cholesteral, or any numerous medical condition medicines. Dont forget there is also the endless phone calls from doctors, nurses, etc wanting to know specifics about medications, dosages, pregnancy classifications, etc. I get calls on many different issues and usually I am more than happy to help the caller out.

Some days I even get to do the crossword puzzle...but I can't always finish it. Darn it.

After a fun filled day in the pharmacy I get to go home to one of several things, depending on the season of course. Sometimes its soccer or field hockey games,

Sometimes it's hanging by the pool...

Sometimes it's working out to relieve stress, or maybe to make myself feel better about all the ~~wine flab~~ squishy parts of me my wonderful husband has to hold on to.

Sometimes it's believing they all really exist...