Snakes and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

The other night my husband returned from his version of mecca (Costco) with various items I requested (e.g. yogurt and paper towels) but also with items of his own choosing (e.g. muffins...and a ton of information on underwater cameras, their specs, rebates, etc.)

"Honey, I think I found THE Christmas present." He announced. "Max will love it in a few years." Translation: I think its really cool and I'd like to get it for me, but I'll site our nephew as the reason why and we'll hang onto it for a few years then I'll pass it onto him.

The last time he announced something like that we ended up with a bottle of 2004 Vintage Bordeaux (THE banner year of Bordeaux in decades). 2004 was the year Max was born and it seemed fitting for his nephew/Godson.

J immediately pulled up the a website about the gift in question. It was a book. The Dangerous Book for Boys. Apparently it was a best seller in the UK and I have to admit it was an intriguing concept...it also contained all sorts of things that I didn't give a rats ass about but someone with a Y chromosome would jump up and down on the couch for. Things like: 5 knots every boy should know, how to make a fireproof cloth, how to make a periscope, US coins, the history of pirates (ok, that one I'm interested in), and a whole two pages on the mysterious topic of girls. What I did love was the video clip associated with it. I particularly liked the go cart piece. After watching Edgar perfect his diving under the water while swimming stunt earlier this week (and I subsequently screamed, gasped for air, and freaked out...he was fine and J remained calm), I knew that what type of mother I will become and would not be ok with a go carting son. We also found this video clip as well.

As J was watching the clips and doing everything he could to contain his enthusiasm I realized two things: one, he will be a great dad and two, I wondered what the counterpart book was like for girls. There isn't one out yet, but I have researched it out and found that it may be a "booklet" not a book (WTF?) as well as it could be entitled something like: The Daring Book for Girls. Many a feminist blogger has taken offense to this. What exactly will they teach? How to throw a tea party? How to do first aid? How to walk in high heels? How to apply make-up? How to play hopscotch, cats cradle, or Mary Mack? How to bake a cake?

I will say this is exactly why I dropped out of Brownies. I can't say that my badge in how to upholster furniture (complete with a wooden block, some foam, and a cloth stapled around it) will ever get me anywhere nor is it anything I would want to pass onto my daughters. I remember being jealous that my husband and his boyscout troop were going ice caving/camping when we were in the 6th grade and asking why I couldn't go. Brownies did not prepare me for the real world.

Who knows, maybe Santa will bring my husband the book of his dreams only to find his wife late at night reading it under the covers with a flashlight. There might be something sexy about a woman who knows how to build a catapult.

I Can See the Light!!!

There are many reasons why today is a good day. For one, it is my husband's last night on this hellish rotation of the ICU...also his last ICU rotation in his residency. It has seriously sucked the life out of his bone marrow. This particular ICU has been rated as the most severe in mortality (about 70% of all admissions die) in teaching hospitals across the Nation. J's particular attitude is, "If I can make it here..."

Its one thing to have an expected death, but its a completely different issue when patients who were fine crump on you when they were expected to be discharged. I think that has been the hardest part. At least with palliative care (a potential fellowship interest) all of those have come to terms with expected outcomes and have abandoned traditional allopathic curative medicine. The ethics have been difficult for J as well. (e.g. Why exactly are we transplanting a guy for the third time in 5 years?) Believe it or not, he moves onto an elective month in September of ethics.

September will be our month of potential grounding. He has been going non stop since June...basically he missed summer completely. In our last official week of observed summer his goal is to get to our pool as many times as possible before it closes next Monday. We'll also be looking to finally bottle the pilsner we brewed in April that has been sitting in our closet reaching its malty goodness potential. And, we'll be discussing what one year from now will look like. As of July 1, 2008 he will be finito in his residency training. This of course begs the question of, "Now what?"

Yesterday I landed a PRN job as a medical social worker. I swear, the minute I walked back into the hospital, saw the gurneys, smelled the ammonia, saw the volunteers in their cute pink smocks at the information desk...well, I knew I was home. It sounds ridiculous, but true. One of the social workers asked me why PRN. I had to be honest. It wouldn't be really ethical for me to take a really big job right now knowing that 1) I'll be gone for 2 months in Spring, and 2) Nothing is for certain after June 2008. This would make my third part time job I hold, which is great. The last time I held more than one part time job it was right before I left for graduate school where I found myself as a part time veterinary tech and part time pastry chef. I liked the variety.

Life's future is pretty up in the air right now for us. Its kind of like standing on the edge of a cliff. Thrilling, and scary. 2008 could bring us new jobs, new locations, potentially planning a family, new challenges...or who knows, we could still be here in Indiana with similar jobs and a new fellowship. I certainly hope September brings insight.

Star of International Procrastination

Given my last experience with government bureaucratic agencies a la drivers license, to say I was hesitant about getting my passport was an understatement. Don't get me wrong, I've been thinking about it for quite awhile. However, my procrastination looked more like a 3 year old kicking the dirt with a scowl, whining, "I don't wanna!" I probably would have put it off even more except I knew we had already bought our airline tickets to Australia for mid-November. $1400 for one plane ticket was motivation enough to move my ass.

I renewed my passport back in 2004 when I almost went to Jamaica, but now my name has changed and that could cause a few eyebrows to raise trying to get through customs. I had been thinking about it as I did get my photos (oh so unflattering) done at Costco. BTW, did you know that you can't smile anymore in these photos? Good God! Not only do you look ugly with the bad lighting and white background, but now you look dismal. Nothing says I'm happy to be an American than a citizen looking pissed off. I will say that the online part was quite helpful. I could fill out all sorts of forms with obscure names like DS-11, DS-4500, etc. I also had to head off to our safe deposit box to find my birth certificate. However, this time I was prepared and brought lunch with me to eat in the line at the post office knowing this was going to be a "process."

There were 5 people ahead of me. 20 minutes later I reached the window only for her to tell me: "You don't want me."

"I don't?" I asked confused and with a glob of mayonnaise on my shirt.

"No. Go stand by the packaging materials and wait for the first window, not me." She pointed her acrylic nail at me and waved to the boxes.

Yup, this wasn't exactly proving to be a better experience than the DMV thus far.

After finishing up putting postage on a rather large box for a grumbling woman, I was welcomed by a friendly smile. It must have caught me off guard. "Go on, honey, come on up."

The African American lady had some wild eyeglasses on and went by the name of "Starr."

"Ooh, where are you goin'?" She said rummaging through all of my paperwork.

"Australia. In November. I wasn't quite sure what you needed..." I began. And I wasn't only because the online instructions had all sorts of contingencies of what to bring so I took just about every piece of identification I could find.

"You doin' just fine! Australia? Never been." She continued to sort through my papers. "See, you didn't even sign your name until you were in front of me! You paid attention to details!"

Truth was, I forgot. Never saw the signature line, but once I took a small oath I quickly scribbled my illegible name.

"And you married, now!" She said holding up my marriage certificate. "Lemme see that ring! Girl, that is georgous! Allright now, let's see, I need a check to the Department of State. You said you were leaving in November? We're getting 'em back first to mid November. I think you'll be ok and not need to do the expidited fee."

"Does it take the same amount of time for a simple renewal?" Thinking of J. He still needs to take care of his as well, but we've been waiting for him to get a haircut before getting immortalized in the scowling citizen pose.

"Uh huh. I've had many people get mad about that one. Like its my fault! I just be nice, though. No need for me to get huffy about it. You've got to pay somewhere and I just leave it up to the Lord!" Um, ok.

"I should get my husband going on his. I wouldn't want to go without him."

"Now, that's what I said. We're going to St. Martin next week and my husband said to wait until he's done with his golf tournament. Dumb me! The kids and me coulda been there now and he could have come after the tournament! I coulda said, 'You have a good time playin' golf and meet me on the beach!' Not next time. "

She was stamping documents, signing them, and putting them in an envelope.

"See now, honey, you did just fine! You are done and you didn't even finish your lunch!" And with that she shook my hand. "You have a wonderful time!"

It was the most pleasant experience I've ever had in a govt agency. Just one person, Starr, made it worth while. And who said there is no such thing as a happy post office worker?

Petroleum BBQ, anyone?

"You know, I saw at the Weber store you can buy blocks of different hardwood and make your own charcoal." J stated last night as we were getting ready to throw on some water soaked hickory chips onto the hot coals.

"Um, hardwood?" I must have looked confused. I also knew that delving into the next line of questioning would further perpetuate me into the dumb blond category even though I'm a brunette. "I have to ask, but is that what charcoal is made of?"

"Yes. Wood. What did you think it was made out of?"

"Something from the ground?" The minute I said it, I realized it sounded ridiculous considering that the last thing people would want is fossil fuel flavored grilled meat.

"No, that is just coal. However, how about when those Christmas trees spontaneously combust then I'll show you where hardwood charcoal comes from." He couldn't help but smirk. "Sometimes I seriously wonder how you got along without me."

You Can Take the Boy out of the Northwest, but....

Same group of doctor friends who went on the Swill tasting adventure a few weeks ago, now having dinner on Taco Tuesday night:

"So did you have a Cabbage Patch kid when you were growing up?"

"Yeah, come to think of it now, his name sounded like a porn star's name. Ricardo Flynt."

"I had a blond afro kid named Spencer."

"I had the Russian International Edition boy."

I'm a bit amazed that all of these grown men, now doctors are admitting this to one another, but I add in, "I had a bald kid named Burgess Jerry. I hated dolls, but my cousin wanted someone else to play Cabbage Patch kids with." Yup, I'm the only female at the table and I was the one hating dolls.

"Well, I really wasn't much for toys, really," clarified the same guy with the pornstar doll and who drank the Splenda swill entries back, "I was more of a stick and rock kid. I used to bring in rocks. My cousin once told me that rocks belonged inside not outside. And they weren't pretty rocks either."

"You mean they weren't different colors?"

"No. It was kind of like, 'Here's my gray rock, and here's my slightly darker gray rock.' You know we didn't get much presents when we were little. Instead we thanked Mother Earth. 'Oh, thank you Mother Earth for these beautiful gray rocks.'"

Gone Grammy Gone

Having my mom out here was a blast. There were definite highlights of the trip that I enjoyed immensely. For instance, not having to rearrange my body around Edgar in the bed was heavenly. Edgar slept with "Grammy" every night but one. We call her "grammy" only because there is a dog food out there called "grammy's pot pie" that the dogs love. Poor mom, the name rather stuck...or at least until a grandkid renames her at some point in time. But like I was saying, there were many favorite moments.

1) Watching Edgar recognize my mom at the airport and literally try to climb over the car seat to get to her.

2) Having mussels and beer

3) Introducing her to a 3D IMAX movie with the funky glasses

4) Having my mom and my husband make dueling animal sounds in the car

5) Having her compliment my hostess style about comfortable beds, cooking, fresh coffee, and gifties on the bed when she arrived. She even told me I was as good of a host as my grandmother, Ginny. This is a HUGE compliment.

6) Introducing her to Yats, 96th Steakburger, and Elements for my birthday dinner.

7) Showing her my moonlight Victorian garden

8) Tickling/rubbing each other's feet while watching the news (something we used to do when I was growing up)

9) Watching her kayak with Edgar and letting him swim

10) Water walking with her

11) Eating her delicious cooking as she made the last meal

12) Laughing, laughing, laughing all the time

Yesterday was a sad one for me. I was the weeping wife. I hate that kind of tears. You know, the ones where you don't even have to blink and a big fattie rolls down your cheek. We had some heart to heart conversations that still resonate. Edgar has been sniffing around her room and then looking up at me as if to say, "Where did she go?" Its very sad and J thinks I;m too anthropomorphic with the dog.

Its hard to know that I won't see her until around Thanksgiving when I'll be stopping off in SLC to drop Edgar off for an extended vacation at Grammy's while J and I go to that Scottish wedding Down Under in the Japanese Tea Garden.

Monday, Tuesday, Friday....

This is a disgusting entry. I'll just put that disclaimer out right now. I'm not even really certain why I decided to write about it. Maybe its a bit of a confession thing for me. Its hard because one of my hobbies is cleaning. I'm not kidding. Maybe I'm just hoping that others will learn and not be as forgetful as I was.

Since I've been working part time, the days seem to blur together. Regularly scheduled meetings that I dreaded marked time passing. Now as I schedule consultations and trainings, the days are pretty random. It wasn't a big shocker that I missed garbage day last week. I was up. I heard the garbage truck and still I dismissed the noise for some other random large truck in the neighborhood and continued on my project.

J wasn't all that worried. He just said, "It happens."

Okey dokey. When I forgot the garbage in Utah, it wasn't that big of deal. My cans were outside in my driveway. Nothing much happened. Indiana? Well, that's a different story...at least that is what I learned this week. Humidity+Heat+Cans in a hot garage=bad.

We've had record setting heat this past week and I was quite creative with my cooking. This meant there was a lot of funky waste. The funk just kept getting worse and the smell was terrible. By Monday of this week I was debating putting the garbage out 3 days early and hoping that the neighborhood association wouldn't fine us. However, I decided not to do this but was holding my breath every time I had to go into the garage. By Tuesday I started parking outside of the garage foregoing the shade and letting the car just bake instead. Wednesday morning I hightailed the stinky smelly Godawful can and subsequent bags out to the curb.

J brought the can in Thursday night. I asked if the stench was still there. He is still suffering with the pneumonia and sinus issues so I realized it was a moot question. His response was sniffling.

I went to go check it out myself and get some other supplies out of our storage. This was not for the faint of heart. When I opened the lid I saw dried dead maggots. Did you read that? Maggots baked onto the lid. I didn't look further into the can because I didn't want to know. I just about lost my stomach right there. I dumped I don't know how much Lysol into that can hoping to kill all science projects. And somehow I got enough courage to put on gloves and scrubbed the carcases off of the lid with some more cleaner and paper towels. I was still suffering from the heeby jeebies when I came back inside.

"Do you realize we had maggots?"

"Huh."

I don't know what I was expecting, but "huh" just felt a bit insufficient. I guess this is why we balance each other out. I didn't realize how much of a girl I was until we got married. I squeal at spiders and insist that J will play the hero and take care of all bugs. He's earning good karma points as he always rescues them and releases them outside. When alone I typically smash their guts with the rationale that they should have known better and not come into my space. God knows how I'm going to handle Kenya.

Since last night, I've now programmed a reminder alarm into my PDA for garbage days.

Speedo Hell

It is well known that most brides are the skinniest right before their wedding. People chalk it up to the stress and being happy. I was not an exception to this. I could eat cheese whiz, cookies, and wine for dinner a year ago and I lost weight. My whole dress had to be taken in. I honestly worried I didn't look like myself and wasn't really happy with my body image when I was that little. I felt a bit scrawny to be honest. While in my photos I looked great, all I could do was focus in on the fold of skin/fat by my armpit in my strapless gown. My husband later explained that it was breast tissue and no matter what I did to work out on that area, it would still be there. Sometimes its good to be married to a doc to remind you of such things.

A year later I'm focusing on eating healthy and I've gained weight. Again, people tell me its because I'm happy. While this is true, its hard to figure out how happiness is a diet strategy when my weight is all over the board. I don't think I look bad right now, but I'd like to look better. Like when I was an athlete "better" and 16. I realize I'll never look that great as I'm nearing my 32nd birthday next month. When I did look that good, I didn't have the confidence to pull anything off. Now I have the confidence, and not the goods. Ah, the irony!

A few years ago, my cousin was just entering college. She came to another cousin's baby shower and she looked amazing. She wore this amazing corset, looked incredible, and had the quiet confidence to pull it off. It was such a daring outfit for her as she is very introverted, but I'm telling you, it worked! She actually got the timing of confidence and body at the same time!

I also know that when I had my athletic build I was working out in the pool a minimum of 2-3 hours a day. I should have had a kickin body for that much work. Now a days, I don't have that kind of time nor do I have access to a racing pool. However, we do have a small pool in our neighborhood. God bless, my husband was supportive of me when I announced I was going to buy a workout suit. The man even came with me to go shopping.

There is nothing worse than shopping for a swimming suit. Jeans are a close second, but really swimming suits win. I'd rather go to the eye doctor, dentist, and the gynecologist on the same day than go swimming suit shopping. It took me about 15 minutes to determine that, 1) I placed a lot of faith in a stupid number representing my size, and 2) the cute geometric Speedo patterns are not flattering on someone my size...or at least you need to be strategic about the designs. I ended up chickening out and going home only to buy my suit online from Speedo.com. I wanted my suit to be here in time for my mom's visit. Often we would swim on Saturdays and perhaps we would venture to our small pool together to "jump start" my routine.

My suit arrived last week, but it took me three days of just staring at the box before I got the nerve to try it on. It was the right size. The pattern was as cute as it could be. However I looked like a fat tart. I had back fat, flank fat, and other tissue I didn't even know I had squeezing out of me like sausage in casing. While a regular bathing suit accentuates what you may have as a gift, there is nothing to hide with a Speedo. However, I figured it was a starting point. I took off the tags and threw away the return label. It has now stayed in my dresser since the day I tried it on.

We are in a heat wave from hell out here. Its so steamy it and the air is so thick, you could almost chew the air...and this is coming from someone who likes the humidity! My mom has yet to buy her suit. We'll see what happens and if we make it into the pool to work out or just to sip margaritas and chew the air.

Countdown de Madre

To say that I'm excited about my mom coming in town is an understatement. I mean, I'm blogging about it and its still over a week away until she gets here. Its amazing to me that I haven't seen her in eight months. When I lived in SLC it was rare that I went more than 8 hours (aside from sleeping) without talking or seeing her. Saturdays were our "thing." We would always have lunch together. Often we would do other stuff like swim laps before, walk with the dogs after, shop, or just run errands. Most of the time I'd be talking her ear off.

She saw a very limited part of Indy when we drove cross country out here with Edgar last October. I think it was less than 18 hours before she got on a plane. We'll have about 4 days for this visit.

J and I have been trying to figure out fun things to do while she's here. We've been talking about restaurants, local neighborhoods to visit, meals we want to cook, etc., for about a month now. It dawned on us that we could even take her to the State Fair. I will say that this doesn't really rank high on my list, but J hasn't been to a State Fair since he lived in Minneapolis.

"I mean, they have to be at least 2 years behind Minnesota on their fried foods. Fried Snickers and Ding Dongs were sooo 2004 and yet I've heard radio ads raving about them. Besides where else can you get anything on a stick?"

Ok, so he had a point, but the last time I went to the State Fair with my mom I almost had her convinced that we needed to get a pet bunny. I think I was still considered a pre-teen and was still looking for Wilbur and Charlotte's proclamation of "some pig." My mom talked about how much fun the Missouri State Fair was when she was a girl. I personally found the Utah State Fair to be gang ridden and wondered how safe those rides really were. However, maybe a Midwest fair would be different. I'm open. I can test the waters.

I will say that it really won't matter what we'll do, I know we'll have fun. My mom has the best laugh of anyone I know. She also has a hysterical sense of humor. That and her sense of adventure should be enough to pack our 4 days to the brim. There is only one part of the trip that I'm worried about. What I really dread is taking her to the airport so she can fly back home.

I Got People

Friends really are the family you get to choose to have. In the past couple of weeks I have received a few "care packages," if you will from those across the country who truly "get" me. I was not expecting them and so it was sheer glee when I would find something besides bills and mass coupon fliers in the mail.

The first gift I received was this:My girlfriend, "Martha," had sent this to me knowing that: 1) I blog, 2) I'm out of books, and 3) I attempt to cook. Its about a woman who is trying to have a baby and decides to distract herself by cooking every recipe in Julia Child's cookbook then blogging about it. Its a true story. I devoured the book (pun intended) and then called Martha to tell her thank you a million times over.

"Hey, I know you are also addicted to the Sims," Martha left on a voice message. "We're in the process of moving and I might have a few add-on games if you want them. Otherwise I'll just send them back to the office with my husband. Let me know."

Martha "gets" me and does not shame me for my small but calculated addiction to this stupid game of micromanaging computer people. She doesn't get the game nor does my husband (who frequently teases me about it), but there is a whole world of people out there who do. It is a time consuming, no-harm/no-foul way to spend nights when J is on call. She also understands my consistent battle with clutter a la husbands as she too moved into his space when they got married. We have compared our unified battles on different fronts. She was also in the process of eliminating all other software editions like DOS based Quicken 1.0 and Word Pad from her husband's closet. I immediately texted her to say, "yes! yes! yes! send me the games!"

While I awaited my crack from my new found dealer in Cali, I received another GREAT package!Yes, that is Sarah Jessica Parker a la Carrie PRINTED ON a CD!!! This girlfriend in Texas shares my "fabulous" addiction to "Sex in the City" AND knows how much I love good music. She has always had a talent of finding the new "it" bands before they actually made it. I seriously do not know where she finds the time as she's also a full time mother of twins. Perhaps her third cousin is a recording studio scout or something, who knows? All I do know is that she has the best taste in music, in my most humble opinion.

There were 3 cd's but one of them promptly landed in my car for my long commute to Noblesville, Indiana. As I jammed out to Fiest, I promptly had a bad day at work showing my best scatterbrained self to my boss first hand. Good times. However, a little new Ryan Adams lifted my spirits on the way home. Oh and I should mention the girl found the time to make the cd's, write a cute note on Olivia stationary (yes, the twins are girls), and mailed them to me before jumping on a plane back to SLC for her grandfather's funeral. Oh. My. Hell.

As I got home last night, my poor pneumonia ridden husband was post call and pointed to a box while in the midst of a coughing fit. He actually missed his own doctor's appointment for a chest x-ray because he was having a death and dying conversation with a family in the ICU. Poor guy. But then I looked at the box. It wasn't just any box.
Do you see that it is a FUN box? It is also a dead giveaway for Martha. My crack had arrived!! Now, I was just thinking a game extension or two, but when I opened the box this is what I found:
Are you counting the games????!!!! 14!!! This wasn't just a game or two. This was the whole freakin' collection!! Her husband is a big wig with a software company. It was like Christmas so as my husband, looking a little gray, lay on the bed I began to jump up and down on it with glee! He just kind of patted my hand and said, "Does this mean your day has gotten better?" I couldn't really answer as I was fondling all of the plastic boxes and was in sensory overload. So he said, "It must be nice to know people who KNOW people." Oh, yeah.

I called Martha this morning to tell her she was the best enabler I have ever had! Not only that, but I figured out a way to import the music on the CD's into the game so I can listen to the cool music while I play!

I have to say it isn't really about any of the stuff, although I tell you it is freakin awesome! I'm always thrilled when a card arrives in the mail. It just means that you are loved and cared for so much that someone took the time to do something that nice for you. I'm also a true believer in karma. Put it out to the universe what you'd like to receive. I sent my mom, my mother-in-law, my grandmother, and my Texas girlfriend care packages just the other day.

I got people and I will never take that for granted.

Bridging the Gap

When I was a trauma social worker in the Emergency Department, my life was dictated by chaos. I never knew what was coming in the door, or more appropriately, by helicopter. I can honestly say that was the best job I've ever had. Sure, it took a toll on me, but I loved being in the thick of the action. My friends appropriately call me an adrenaline junkie. Even when I was on vacation I took my pager and was once called back home early due to a LifeFlight helicopter tragedy. It was a hard life, but it is an honored place to be when you were part of the team to help restore order in chaos.

My family lived on the LifeFlight path. A couple of times, early on in my career, my mother would call me to tell me she was outside and knew a helicopter was on its way. Of course I knew this because my pager would alert me, but I found it rather comforting to know they were keeping tabs on me. They knew how bad of a day I had before I even came through the door. Ironic that now she is a volunteer adjunct chaplain in the same hospital. When I was living in New Orleans my grandmother would let me know when a hurricane was forming. This was actually more helpful as I tended to never watch the news while I was in grad school.

I guess with this type of family communication, it was no surprise to get voice mails from both my mom and J's dad last night about the bridge collapse. We immediately turned on the TV to see some of the updates. J went to U of MN for medical school and we had traveled the bridge frequently. In many ways we hold that city very close to our hearts as a lot of our courtship took place in the twin cities. I seriously wouldn't mind moving there as it is one of the most beautiful places on earth.

I immediately went to the thought of wondering how many of our friends were working in Hennepin County Medical Center and were called to the code disaster. Most of J's colleagues went categorical internal medicine which meant they would also be new attendings and staff...aka, they would be in charge and couldn't hide behind the title of resident, intern or student.

My second thought was if the fates had placed us there for residency and I was working there as a trauma social worker, both J and I would be in the ED awaiting the ambulances and walking wounded. The thought that we would have been on the bridge is a place I could not go in my head and have passed it off as improbable as J typically doesn't get off of work until at least 7:00 on a good day. There would be no way he would have been on the bridge at 6:05.

I had done a ton of mock code disasters in SLC and loved figuring out how to link the mock families with the nameless actor/kids rolling through the door. I hate to admit how much I wished I was in the middle of 9/11, Katrina, and now the bridge disaster. It sounds absolutely sick, I know. I was proud when my critical incident teams were put on alert to go back to NYC and NOLA. What was even more amazing is that the hospital administration was extremely supportive of us going. I never made it to either place, but we were the first on scene to help the evacuees from Katrina who ended up in Utah.

While I've been taking a different course in my professional path recently, I can honestly say that disasters like this make me long for where I was. This is not to say I don't love what I'm doing now. I do. Its a different pace. Its a lot more slow than living by the chirp of a pager. As I watched J head off to his night on call to the ICU hell, I felt a pang of jealousy. Off he went in his scrubs and multiple pagers (his pager, the code pager, the on call phone, his phone) and I began to work on a corporate training I'm doing next week. In my pajamas. With the dog curled up doing doggy dreams and barking/running. Drinking coffee. Watching the sun rise. Its a different pace.