Can I have a rain check on that reality check?

Picture it, the Mason household, August 2, 2009:

All 4 Mason children and a Mason mother are dressed and ready for church. Breakfast has been devoured by those not fasting this particular Sunday (as evidenced by the explosion of cheerios and milk in the kitchen). Hair bows have been pinned and primped. Even dress shoes have been rediscovered on lands far, far away.

The morning has gone exceptionally well for the Mason household on this particular Sabbath. You see, not once did Mason mother have to yell or threaten anyone with their lives to make sure tardiness was avoided. Today the sun is shining a little brighter over Prestonwood Estates.

So, with scriptures in hand and a smile on her face, Mason mother escorts happy little Mason children outside to the perfect little Mason family car. Birds are singing, crickets are chirping, butterflies are abundant. (I would say deer are frolicking in the near distance, but that's pushing it).

When all at once, little Mason boy asks mother, "Mom, is today Fast Sunday?"
"It sure is!" says Mason mother.
Replies little Mason boy, "Well, it sure doesn't seem very fast."

*sigh*
Butterflies bolt, crickets crawl away and the birds have all but choked to death on their songs.
Is that a cloud I see forming overhead?
Well, in all reality, we were all thinking it anyway!

Problematic Prefixes and the Preliminary Test

I have decided to become an EMT.

That's right.

And before you ask - yes, I am in my right mind and no, I'm not on any mind-altering medications.

I say that not to be derogatory towards the EMS staff in any way, but in all reality those who know me know that statement is coming from a woman who can't stand even the simple thought of throw up within 100 yards of my general vicinity. I gag when my children gag. While they're standing there looking helplessly into their mother's eyes begging for some kind of empathy and relief, I'm giving the same look right back.

But I've been riding out with EMS because I'm writing an article on them (and the Police Department, the Highway Patrol and the Fire and Rescue Team) educating the citizens of Durant on just how much these people in these particular professional fields sacrifice on a daily basis to keep us safe while we're tucked in our beds at night. (*whew* Talk about a run-on sentence).

After a rather intriguing call to help save a man who was having a heart attack on the side of the road 2 weeks ago, I have become quite addicted to what EMTs do and therefore enrolled myself in the course 2 days ago.

HOWEVER, there is a little preliminary test I have to take before class starts to see at what level I should be placed for the course.

Tests unnerve me. Especially tests that I am not prepared for. Teachers used to say "Pop Quiz" in high school and I'd break out into a cold sweat and would pray for some natural disaster to occur or for the sudden onset of uncontrollable diarrhea, for the teacher or myself, I didn't care.

Hindsight is always 20/20 and although no bowel movements of the squirty kind ever interrupted a dreaded last minute torture drill, I've come to realize that because of those pop quizzes, I've become really good at functioning above average under pressure.

I just like to be prepared. I'm not comfortable when I'm not prepared or at least somewhat thought out beforehand.

So, I think. How could I prepare myself for a test I know absolutely nothing about?

*Lightbulb*

I remember my friend Gary Akin has just completed his EMT course and is now working on the paramedic course! Gary probably knows what's on that stinkin' exam!

So, last night at around 8:00 pm I text Gary:

"Hey, this is Carissa. Do you remember what's on the preliminary test for the EMT class?"

He did not immediately respond. No biggie.

At 9:17 pm however, I receive a reply:

"I don't know you and I don't know that."

I laugh. Gary is such a dork!

And then...I see the number I've texted. Instead of a 916 prefix, I've texted to a 380 prefix. Frantically, I reply: "OMG! I am sooooo sorry!"

About 2 hours later at 11:37 pm I receive another text from Mystery Texter. "Who are you trying to send that to?"

I'm thinking 'Well, that's really none of your business, now is it?' But instead I politely reply, "916 not 380. My bad!"

At approximately 12:25 this morning, THIS is the text I receive:

"Ya, your bad and I'm only 11, so ya."

Did you just mouth off to me you little twirp?! You better hope I don't ever find out who you are or where you live because if I ever have to come save your life you little pint-sized ego trip on a tricycle, you're getting a catheter whether you need it or not! And just what in the crap are you doing out of your crib at that hour anyway?