Would you like mustard with that?

Before we get started on this blog I'll be upfront, this is a rant and a confession. Or, for you marketing types, we'll call it a blogging value.

First, the confession. I sometimes get caught up in road rage. Face it, if you're in the slow lane doing the speed limit and some defective clot is riding your tail even though the fast lane is open, you get mad. I get mad too. It's not like I'll motion the butt-heads to pull over so I can dovetail their nose to their ear, but I will admit that sign language is sometimes involved. In my defense I'm really trying to get better and not let it bother me so much. I'm even having some success. More often than not I'll pull over and let the idiots pass without so much as a glance. Still, other times that finger pops on up just like it had a mind of its own.

That's the confession and for what it's worth, I feel better. For the rant half of this blogging value you're probably way ahead of me. But, just in case, READ THE DRIVER MANUAL YOU GOD FORSAKEN MORONIC WORMS!

The occasional tailgater isn't so bad, we can't expect perfection from our fellow drivers and everybody gets stupid occasionally. But I'm not talking about these drivers. I'm talking about those who deliberately drive like buffoons. You see 'em, I know you do because they're everywhere. I saw one man who was driving through rush hour, talking on the phone, reading something in the seat, with a map unfolded and draped over the steering wheel. Dale Earnhardt Jr. couldn't do that! And more importantly, he wouldn't try. I wonder what NASCAR drivers would do if they passed a fellow driver on the backstretch and he had a drink in one hand, a hotdog in the other, and was driving with his knees? At the very least he would catch some sign language. More likely he'd end up in the emergency room with some freakish, foreign object story.

“Well gee Doc, I was in the pits after the race when a couple of other drivers walked up, asked me how I liked the hotdogs. Next thing I know I'm upside-down and having the wrong kind of sexual relationship with a mustard dispenser.”

It could happen, I even dream of carrying a squirt-jar of mustard in my truck, one of those big family size jars.

*****
I've included the following link for your further enjoyment, I suggest printing a few to use as handouts.
http://www.drivershandbook.com/handbooks/usa/

Patch Adams, Family Medicine, and Medical Specialties

The title is a bit misleading, this blog really has nothing to do with Patch Adams, other than when I flipped on the moron monitor last evening I found the movie Patch Adams showing on ABC. It's an entertaining movie and I enjoyed watching it again. More important is the movie made me remember a subject I wanted to share with anyone reading this blog, that subject is Family Medicine.

I work for The American Academy of Family Physicians (The AAFP). The Academy is the organization representing doctors who specialize in Family Medicine. The American Board of Medical Specialties recognizes 24 areas of medical specialty from Ophthalmology to Colon and Rectal Surgery. If you stop and think about it that covers just about everything from top to bottom, and so do physicians who specialize in Family Medicine. I'm not claiming that your local Family Physician is as well equipped to diagnose eye disease as an Ophthalmologist, but I'd wager he or she is better equipped than your local Colon and Rectal Surgeon. Unless you've got a third eyeball somewhere unmentionable , in which case don’t you dare moon anyone!

My point is Family Medicine is a real medical specialty, reconized by the American Board of Medical Specialties, and Family Medicine covers the entire person top to bottom. These doctors go through as much training as any other medical specialist. Well ahead of the times, the AAFP was a leader in requiring its member doctors stay current through a process of Continuing Medical Education. The Academy did this in 1947! These are serious doctors who chose Family Medicine as their area of expertise because of their love of people. They hold claim to the title of Family Physician not because they want to make tons-o-money being a doctor but because they want to make a difference in peoples lives. They’re kind of like Patch Adams when you think about it, and by the way, Patch Adams is a member of the AAFP.

For more information visit …

http://http://www.aafp.org/
http://www.familydoctor.org/
American Board of Medical Specialties
American Board of Family Medicine

Lighting Bug

I'm going to the porch now, and while I'm there I'm going to think of something to write.

That was fun. As I sat on my little bench by the door, the first thought I had was how often people will just sit around waiting for something interesting to happen. After all, that's what I was doing. I was just sitting there waiting for something interesting to write about. I wanted a subject that would captivate my imagination and lubricate the gears of my brain. I wanted a light to come on inside my head. Right about the time I was giving up a light did pop on, illuminating the obvious and full-filling the goal. But the light wasn't yellow as they are in cartoons, this light was green.

In the central United States, around the Kansas City area, you can step out in the twilight hours and see a spectacular light show. We call them Lighting Bugs. ( *see Wikipedia ) Lighting Bugs are harmless little creatures who, during the summer months, come out at dusk and advertise for a mate by flashing their abdomens in a bright phosphorus green. This year, on the shores of Houston Lake, the lighting bugs are thick. As I sat and gazed across the lawn it looked like a carpet of green emeralds. Lights would come on and glow for a second or two and then fade back off, back on, and off again. The cycle repeating until, I assume, a date was made. Then I noticed a lighting bug whose light never completely faded from view. What was wrong with the light? Why couldn't this creature turn its light completely out? Was it old and dying or young and growing? I was fascinated with this lighting bug. Partly, because the light never went completely out, I could watch its path and see its every movement. But really I wondered about its bad light. Then this lighting bug flew directly at me, hovered above my head, floated down, and lit on my leg. As soon as the little guy touched down the light went out! Wow, was the lighting bug choosing me as its mate? As the thought crossed my mind I brushed the bug away and went back inside the house. If I was appealing to bugs in such a manner then it was time for me to take a shower.