Do you remember the Mamas and the Papas? I was listening to them on the radio today, and now I want to go home and find my love beads. I’m feeling nostalgic today. My favorite Mamas and Papas’ song is “Monday, Monday.” That’s because, unlike the rest of the world, I look forward to Monday mornings. I’m sitting in one of the most wonderful places in the world. I have discovered wireless Internet at our local Panera Bread coffee shop. The pastries are tasty, as well as fattening, the people who work here are friendly, and there is an electrical outlet for my computer right by the self-serve soda machine. I’m currently nibbling on a scone, and drinking my second cup of Diet Coke. I’ve died and gone to heaven.

As a weekend alternative nurse, I love Monday mornings. I’m sure if one of the other Panera customers were reading my mind right now, they’d come over and kick me in the shins, but please remember that I’m beginning my first day of freedom after being cooped up on a locked psych ward for two days, working short of staff. I see blurry-eyed people ordering coffee-to-go before they make their way to work. A huge number of people in our town commute by car everyday into Washington, D.C., on what’s called the Beltway. People sit in their cars for hours everyday to go to jobs that they hate. It’s crazy. Road rage is a very popular pastime in our part of the country.

This nurse took the Beltway and she’s now at work. What a good nurse. She is an angel of mercy, caring for a fallen soldier. She’s taking his pulse and he’s asking her out on a date. Some things never change. I hope she keeps the conversation light. If she doesn’t, she could get herself into a lot of trouble.

One of my friends won’t be going into DC anymore. She’s a nurse, and she was forced out of her job because she asked a pertinent question about the war in Iraq while she was at work. She worked at a military hospital, and asked a forbidden question behind closed doors away from the patients and their family members. She asked a group of military nurses why the Pentagon does not count the patients that die in the hospital as casualties of the Iraqi war. The numbers we hear in the media only include those who were killed on the battlefield, and not those who died in hospital beds as a result of their injuries. My friend is a civilian, and her question was not well received. She was summoned by her boss at the end of her shift, and she was basically asked if she was Un-American. The writing was on the wall and she eventually was asked to resign. She won’t have trouble finding a new job. General William Sherman said, “War is hell.” The man knew what he was talking about.

I try to keep my blog political-free, but that’s not happening today. I’m guess I’m just an old hippie with a lot to say. Now, where did I put those love beads?