There's a first for everything... Well, second, too.

Me: It was my first time calling 911.

Sister: It's exciting isn't it? (Coming from the girl who has called 911 too many times to count).

I was driving home from my aunt's house one night this week and was talking to my sister when the chaos began. I was stopped at a red light and saw a kid (well, teenager) come out of nowhere. He was running out from a side street and when I say running, I mean sprinting. He was frantically looking over his shoulder as he ran. My stomach dropped when I saw him and before the light turned green, I saw a cop car whipping around the corner with it's lights on. Suddenly the cop made a stop at the intersection and pulled a u-turn. I started putting it together and realized he was going the wrong way. He had to have been looking for the running kid! All while I'm on the phone with my sister. I was explaining it to her and she said "Well you better hang up." But I stayed on the phone with her and saw the police shine their big light on a kid walking down the street, who matched the stereotype of the kid I saw running. I told my sister "Oh no, they're going after the wrong kid!!! I should go tell them!!" As I said that, I realized it wouldn't be a good idea to start chasing the cops, who were chasing a possible bad guy. And just then, I saw another cop car come flying around the corner with their lights on, too. That's when I hung up and decided I should call 911 and tell them they're after the wrong kid.

I was so anxious, as it was my first... Okay second time calling 911.

When I was probably 5 or 6 years old I called 911 to see what happens. I remember hiding upstairs between my parents' bed and the window, and called 911 on their phone with the squiggly cord. You know what happens when you call 911 and don't say anything? They call back. BUSTED! My parents asked which one of us called and I had no choice but to admit it. When they asked why, all I could say was that I wanted to see what happens.

Back to the story. I call 911 and tell them what I saw and they asked me all sorts of questions about what he looked like, race, height, weight, age, what kind of clothes, a hat, carrying anything, how long ago I saw him. Then she took down my name and number.

As I was being questioned I was thinking back to all of my psychology classes, which are filled with studies about these types of scenarios and what you do and don't remember. So of course, I was second guessing myself the second she asked the question.

I checked all of the newspapers online and haven't seen a thing. Someone I had told said maybe he stole something? But unless it was a painfully slow night for the cops, I don't think they'd send 2 cop cars flying through intersections for a kid whole shoplifted from Safeway.

I've always thought I'd be a good detective, but I could never last through the police training and all that jazz, to crawl my way to a detective position. But if God has been giving me a sign lately, it's to be a detective.

(Kind of joking... Kind of not)

We received a letter from a participant at work, which I won't go into too much detail because frankly I don't think I'm allowed to. But basically a woman .(74). sent a letter about getting arrested last month. If you want the whole story, I'll tell you. Just not all over the Internet.

Yours truly,

Detective

*!!!!GASP!!!!* You... Don't... Use... Eye cream?!

During one of my first weeks of commuting on the bus I had the man sitting next to me accuse me of bringing weed on the bus. I remember thinking it was such a hilarious accusation, considering the way I look, the time of day (not that it matters for those who DO smoke), and that I would be going to work with weed in my bag... At a hospital! Anyway, I nabbed one of the last seats on the bus this morning next to a possible cast member to replace the Jersey Shore crew. Hair has plenty of gel, a track jacket on, glowing tan, sunglasses, and a scent not even I could mistake.... Weed! Since he's passed out from his morning hit, I won't get my chance to accuse him of bringing weed on the bus. (Not that I ever would anyway, but it could be fun)

So, I have had a few moments in the last few weeks that have made me feel a little older than I should... Or am. And I know people who are older than me are probably reading this and cackling thinking "She's soooo young," in that way that you're always reminded by those who are older than you. But when I was getting the patient records prepared the other day at work I noticed their birthday was 1996... And to a lot of you that probably seems really young, but unfortunately we see much much younger patients. But I remember thinking oh my gosh this poor kid is so young... How sad! Then I noticed they were 16 years old and I about flipped out of my chair. Kids born in 1996 can drive? When I saw 1996 I obviously didn't calculate how old they were, since I was imagining a 12 year old. It's kind of like seeing those signs in the grocery store that say "Those born this day of 1991 can buy alcohol." Or whatever it says.... And whatever it says is guaranteed to make you stop and think... Wow I'm getting old(er).

When I used to be a nanny and would take the kids on walks, I would get the dirtiest looks from people, which isn't exactly what you would think people would do when they saw cute babies. But I realized they must've thought I was a teen mom, since people still ask me if I've gone to college yet. But yesterday was quite the different story. I went to Nordstrom to get my face lotion and when the clerk asked if she could help me find something, it went downhill... Fast...

Me: I'm just looking for my face lotion... Oh there it is, I'll get this one.

Clerk: Okay and I'm assuming you're here to get your eye cream as well?

Me: Nope, just the lotion. And this _______(present for my niece).

Clerk: *GASP* you don't use eye cream? (She acted as though I told her I didn't use toothpaste). You should really start using eye cream.

Me: Uh no, I think I'm doing fine with just the lotion.

Clerk: It doesn't matter how young you are, you should use one. We have two kinds. One for fine lines and *pause, with a concerning look* one for those dark circles under the eyes. (She may as well have winked at me).

Me: Haha no, I don't want it. Just these two things.

Clerk: Oh, so is this for your daughter?

Me: No, my niece.

Clerk: Oh my, I assumed you must have kids!

Me: Nope, my niece is turning 2. No kids for me.

Clerk: Oh! I really thought this was for your daughter, you know with school starting and all. Here, let me get some samples of the eye creams. You reallllly should start using them.

.............

Seriously? That's your sales pitch? To tell me i look like a worn out, exhausted mother... that I'm not... To get me to buy your eye cream???

When I finally escaped with (a bruised ego), face lotion, a gift, eye cream sample and all... I got stuck walking behind a girl who must've been in high school, wearing what looked like a cut up tank top, worn as a dress, with a black lacey bra fully exposed, and (maybe?) jean shorts. I rolled my eyes and thought there is no way in hell my daughter would ever leave the house looking like that... Mainly because I would never allow those clothes in my house.

Maybe those clerks should spend more time selling actual clothing to these soon-to-be "Pretty Woman," girls instead of selling eye cream to a tired young lady like myself.