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.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
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?
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?
Thursday, August 23, 2007
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."
"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."
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
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.'"
"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.'"
Monday, August 20, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, August 10, 2007
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.
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.
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