Another Dinner. Another Broken Finger.

Have I mentioned my sadness over leaving such great, easy food choices?  Yes? No?  Well, I am sad.  Very sad.  My friend, Wendi, was kind enough to meet me at Big Bowl for a "last hurrah" of asian-food-goodness.

Wendi is a friend I have had FOREVER. We grew up together in the same small school and somehow even though we went our separate ways, we stayed in touch AND THEN she moved to the Cities.  Oh happy day.  I've played co-ed softball with her every summer.  I will really miss that.  She has been informed that she has to see me every time she steps foot in the Prairie. She's so lucky. :)

Here we are in our "glory days".  Actually . . Wendi maybe had glory days, I really didn't. . . unless you count my spelling bee days.  Ahhh . . . yes . . . . I was a mean speller back in the day. I'm really upset that I ended up throwing my bee trophies away.  Brother1 would taunt me about my lack of sports trophies EVEN THOUGH I had plenty of purple 4-H ribbons and spelling bee trophies.  Not to mention my poster winnings.  The family all got to go the state's capital and stay in a HOTEL with a POOL all because of me and my drug poster. (picture this:  The Wizard of Oz scarecrow next to the yellow brick road.  The heading: "If you only had a brain you wouldn't use drugs.") Clever, eh? He wasn't complaining about my lack of athletic skill then. 

Me and Wendi.  We've got spirit, yes we do!

Where was I?  I'm rambling.  Again.  My apologies.  Again.  So, while at dinner (Big Bowl), with Wendi (my friend), I get a frantic call from Sister2.

Sister2: (gasping) "I blah lbha lhb lahbl" 
Me:  WHAT?!
Sister2: "I think I broke my finger."
Me:  That sucks - Are you hyperventilating?!
Sister2: (silence)
Me:  Seriously . . are you in shock?
Sister2:  No.
Me:  Well, I'm at Big Bowl . . can it wait?

Riveting conversation, yes?.  In a nutshell, she smashed her middle finger by trying to catch a HUGE exercise ball while having dumb bells in her hands.  Silly girl.  I had warned her before that exercising is dangerous.

She gets a ride to Allina Clinic Urgent Care.  I go to pick her up after my dinner with Wendi.  I wait for an hour in the nastiest waiting area I have ever seen.  They still had tacky Christmas wreathes on the wall.  It creeped me out.  Honestly??? Does anyone work here?  Is the entire staff blind?  How good is the care here if they don't even care about poor decorations and untimeliness of clean-up?  Why doesn't the receptionist walk to the pathetic little wreath and lift it off the nail and shove it in the garbage?  I instantly cannot trust this clinic.  No way. 

After 40 minutes of sitting in the creepy waiting area (cursing my bad luck of not having my Kindle with - lesson learned, I will never leave the house again without it.), I ask the receptionist if I can go back and hang out with Sister2.  I was hoping that this might remind the staff that "Oh yea . . . there's a girl here with a broken finger!  We should check on her." I'm nice and passive aggressive like that.  It didn't work - we were there for another 40 minutes.

End result:  Broken middle finger.  Such irony.

AND THEN.  I drove Sister2 to her place and then drove myself home where I was greeted by a starving, overly-dramatic cat.