Everything Glorious

A Nursing Kaleidoscope

2012-01-21T03:30:00.007-05:00

On Thursdays and Fridays, I set my "harp" alarm for 5am and follow it up with a "fog horn" at 5:15. (I learned the hard way over Summer that the harp, while indeed a lovely awakening, can be easily slept through... and I am still having heart palpitations thinking about racing onto the floor at 0658 with two minutes to spare). I throw on my scrubs and try to do some upkeep to look halfway presentable (it's fine to be schleppy at that time of morning but by a more reasonable hour I'm always glad I put in some effort... even if it's just mascara and pomegranate burts bees lip stuff). By 6am I'm monitoring nextmuni.com for the 6:12 44-O'Shaughnessy, taking bites of cereal between tasking, and thanking my lucky stars I thought to pack my bag the night before. 6:09 rolls around fast and I'm sure my roommates hate me for my clog-heavy dash to the door.

Six months into MEPN, I know there will be a powder blue scrubbed guy at the corner of 6th and Clement in a Giants or Niners jacket depending on the season also waiting for the 44. I know there will be the same lady bus driver and we'll exchange familiar "Getting through! Almost the weekend!" pleasantries. I know four other scrubbed up men and women will get on at 6th and Geary. I lose track after that but once we get out of the park, I notice we are all peaking around the heads in front of us to see if the N is coming down 9th yet... and more importantly, if we can catch it. Half of us make the dash, the other half keep going on to Judah and hike up the hill to the hospital.

On Thursday I made the N, and by 0630 we pulled up to the UCSF stop. I love the moment right after the doors slide open and one by one we clunk down the three steps into the still-dark morning. Me in my green and khaki, them in powder blue, navy blue, and even some hunter green, slate gray, and crimson red scrubs belonging to other providers. Too early and too cold to chat with each other, we move staggered... yet together... from our respective muni doorways, through the most convenient ambulatory care doors, up the first elevator ride of the day, across Parnassus, and into the hospital through the main entrance or through the ED. We are simultaneously illuminated and shadowed under the orange street lights and fog.

That morning I was describing this phenomenon to the only person I will speak to at that ungodly hour, and Clint perfected my initial designation of it as a 'nursing migration'. "It's a nursing kaleidoscope," he counseled. Certainly you have captured its essence the most beautifully, sir.

30 Before 30: #30 Send one handwritten letter every week for a year

2012-01-02T13:32:00.003-05:00

In High School, Kayti and Nora used to write me beautiful letters with perfect handwriting and intentional messaging. Certainly not your average sloppy-crinkled-silly-nonsense-notes the kids pass in class. These were elegant and high-sounding. And given to the recipient with the conviction that "the written word is a lost art" and we all have a personal burden to preserve such a rich and important heritage.

Last January 1st, armed with a fresh pack of "carrie elizabeth" personalized card stock and a black pen in hand (always black), I wrote the first letter, made a copy of it, and tucked it into it's envelope for sending. (This is actually a bad example of what the norm of this process was since I wrote my first letter to Jesus and kept it in my folder instead of ecclesiastically sending it into the whim of the cosmos, but bear with me O, Reader).

I had no rules or expectations or plan at all, really, other than to just pick someone each week and write them a note. Oh dear, strike that. There were two loose margins I mentally set for myself: the notes were not to be occasion-driven such as for a birthday, and I would try to say a meaningful thing to the recipient.

For the first seven months of the year, I was fantastically committed. I wrote to friends near (a town over) and far (Paris! Chile!), old DC colleagues, an author I read. I wrote to my parents friends and my ailing mentor from HS and a Lowell Lane neighbor and a childhood friend's dad who started a wonderful film festival in Orinda.

Admittedly, I fell of the wagon pretty hard this Fall. All of a sudden weeks were stacking on top of weeks, and my consistency suffered. But I would carefully count the weeks I was behind, make a mental list of selected recipients, and take the card stock with me to the corner laundromat to grind-write.

And now there are 51 letters out there. If you received a colorful, adorable, whimsical little note card this year with my first and middle name on it, you were one of the 51. I have you all on a list and each of your letters copied and in a folder. This is the selfish part of it, I suppose, because I have incidentally created a 51-entry 2011 journal for myself. I loved writing you these notes, friends. I loved thinking about you and our shared history as I wrote.

Two final (and unrelated) thoughts...
Of course I know there are 52 weeks in the year and I am thus a letter short by admitting I wrote only 51. The 52nd letter has actually always belonged to one recipient, but the letter can't write itself right now. And... that's all this author wishes to say on that matter. What's a literaryesque post without a little emotional mystery, hm?

Lastly, and importantly... We are indeed a society at risk of losing our letters. The jeopardy the USPS finds itself in is the strongest reflection of this long-arriving paradigm shift. Out of 51 letters sent, I received 5 back. A response on any level was never part of this equation for me, but I am compelled share that pith with you nonetheless.

So... may this be an encouragement to you to splurge on lovely stationery, select your recipients, and share willingly with them as you push the pen.

An Annotated Photography of New Year's Eve

2012-01-02T12:19:00.000-05:00

I spotted the ocean

I watched surfers, like lemmings and then seals

And did not take this for granted:

Is there anything louder than the whizzing of bees?

It's not a leg lamp, it's a lotus lamp. And now it's mine.

This "return to BevMo" became the main libation:

I exchanged a ball drop for this and a 10:15pm bedtime:

And woke up to 2012.

30 Before 30: #17 Dye my hair

2011-12-21T17:32:00.001-05:00

I decided in September that my 27th year would be my "year of blonde". (Sidenote - I know it's not grammatically correct to put periods outside quotations but I do it anyway because it doesn't look right otherwise). (SEE! We put the period after ellipses!! Why not quotations!?). Anyway, back to my year of blonde...

I bumped into an old friend who is a hair stylist now and set up an appointment with her in September. I went in totally convinced I'd walk in a brunette and out a blonde. Apparently it doesn't work quite like that because it has taken three months to go from this...

To THIS!!!...

I still am going to go lighter, but so far this is where we are at. I had my first OH YEAH, I'M BLONDE moment today when I was buying hair clips at Target and realized I needed the lighter ones instead of the dark ones now. Weird!

the guy who says goodbye to you is out of his mind

2011-12-13T21:48:00.000-05:00

50% Nurse

2011-12-07T04:36:00.006-05:00

Sometimes I stalk the UCSF MEPN 2012 message board on AllNurses.com just to keep tabs on what the incoming class is chattering about and where they are in the application process. Surprisingly (or not?), I didn't get into any of the posts during my own application/admission cycle, but I am drawn to them now. This week last year, I got the letter in the mail inviting me to interview at UCSF in January. I scotch taped it to my wall next to the mirror in my room - visible, but sidelined. A long shot that I spent a lot of miles on Iron Horse Trail plead-praying for.

I had my last day in Marin, last day on L&D, turned my last final in on Sunday morning, and now I'm 50% RN.

We are all feeling this way - I've seen a lot of "halfway there"-type facebook status updates. I think they're all filled with some mix of feeling relieved to be done with this quarter, disbelief we've already made it halfway through, and panic that we only have halfway to go before being BRN eligible to sit for NCLEX. Whoa. (Said like Joey).

On my last day on 15 Long, my mama delivered at 0646... exactly 14 minutes before my shift started (just my luck!). I walked into Labor Room 5 right as the baby was taking his first cries. I missed his coming into the world, but thanks to the awesome RN I was shadowing for the day, I got to take the lead on so many other firsts for him in the initial postpartum period. Mama's family had to go to work, so she was left alone in the room within about an hour of delivering a calm and very alert baby boy. She hadn't really been able to bond with him yet except for some initial skin to skin contact when he was born, so I wrapped him up like a baby burrito and got to take him to mama to hold for the first time. I introduced him to her and she cradled him in total disbelief. She kept saying "Oh my god!" as she looked at him, processing her motherhood and her power.

I helped her breastfeed (he latched right away - clearly helped by the fact mama had elected not to have an epidural), and gave baby his first bath, shots, and drops. And hell if I didn't sit on the side of the bathtub for an hour with mama across from me on the toilet as she struggled with her first post-delivery pee.

That evening for post-conference, our group grabbed a drink down the street to wrap the quarter up. My Clinical Instructor shared that the best part of her experience with Fall MEPNs is that we are still such baby nurses at the beginning of the quarter, but by the end of the rotation she has seen each of us look, act, and feel like nurses. I got teary when she said that, because indeed I have spent the last six months feeling mostly like an imposter when I throw on my scrubs and stethoscope. But facilitating mom-newborn bonding one minute, educating about breastfeeding another, feeling a boggy uterus firm up with fundal massage the next minute, and then sitting on the edge of a tub for an hour for the sole purpose of moral support and reassurance... made me feel like a nurse.

And then I went back to being in the way, slowing providers down, and taking five minutes to get vitals. Sounds just like a 50% nurse... with a lot more to learn.

Ready for a Harbaugh-handshake, Clint?

2011-10-29T17:23:00.001-04:00

It's College GameDay! It has been an awesome season at Stanford Stadium so far - tailgating in Eucalyptus Grove... playing corn toss thanks to my dad's superhuman carpentry skills... and most importantly of course, watching the Cardinal go 7-0!

And while we have been LUCKy (get it? ahh I'm so clever...) to have won by at least 27 points and as many as 54 points in every game so far, I have to admit that I'm a teensy nervous for today. Because TODAY is... DAH DAH DAH....

Ohhhh lordy. Let's look at the last five, shall we?
2010: Stanford 37 - USC 35 (Not exactly decisive but... I'll take it!)
2009: Stanford 55 - USC 21 (ahhh that's more like it :))
2008: Stanford 23 - USC 45 (oh NOOOOO... I blame this on USC revenge for 2007)
2007: Stanford 24 - USC 23 (Unranked Stanford upsets #1 USC!!)
2006: Well. This is my blog. So I get to say who cares about 2006 anyway? To hell with 2006!

Now, I love Stanford Football. I want to go to sleep tonight at 8-0. It's alllllll about the game. And the win over a team I have hated since the 1996 Rose Bowl against Northwestern. But the Stanford vs USC match up goes deeper than all of that. Every year, this day is not just about beating USC. It's about a whole year's worth of bragging rights over USC's biggest fan (and one of my oldest and best friends) Clint Bradford. For Clint and I, the razzing, the glory, and the passion behind the rivalry is ongoing no matter what day of the year it is. Let me be clear (ha, clever me again!), the clashing of horns between us about USC can be funny and friendly... but it is most certainly *serious*. So today I am practicing my BEST Jim Harbaughesque handshake in preparation for my victory celebration over Clint (err... I mean Stanford's victory over USC) when the buzzer sounds tonight. Are you ready for me, Mr. Bradford?

It's the wheel of the world turning around

2011-10-25T04:02:00.003-04:00

This quarter I have a Childbearing Families rotation on 15 Long at UCSF every Friday. I'm assigned to a different part of the unit each week; postpartum, high-risk antepartum, lactation, well-baby nursery, and the BEST... labor and delivery. Last Friday during the 7am nursing hand-off, my nurse and I got pulled away because the patient we were assigned to was having continued decelerations (where the baby's heart rate drops significantly and takes a few minutes to go back up to baseline). Some decels are normal (with contractions, for example) and decels with variability (where the baby basically bounces itself back to normal) are typically ok. But this little stinker was having sustained lowered heart rates and was making everyone nervous for most of the night before and into that morning. We tried a number of nursing interventions on mama, but ultimately she had to sign the consent forms for a C-Section and by 10:30am we were suiting up for the OR.

Five layers of tissue (skin, fat, fascia, muscle, uterus) and an hour or so later, baby boy got pulled out of mama and we heard him use his little lungs after the peds team went to work a bit. My thoughts on the whole C-Section process? Other than fetal demise or injury, I can't think of a worse pregnancy outcome than a C-Section. Are they necessary? Yes. As much as we do them here in the States? Come on. It is incredibly invasive and traumatic and sterile. It is SO far from what our bodies intend for the childbirth experience. But I digress. Either way, it was pretty CRAZY to see a huge melon-sized uterus resting on top of mama's stomach while they sewed it back up. Fallopian tubes, ovaries, and all.

A few hours postpartum, I was standing next to mama while baby was trying to breastfeed for the first time. My nurse (who had been a nurse midwife for 36 years!!) showed me how she wanted me to hold baby's head against mama's breast in order to facilitate his latching on since mama couldn't hold him quite right because of her surgery. So I basically planted myself there for the next two hours with one hand on the back of baby's head and one hand coaxing her nipple to protrude or pushing against her breast so his little nostrils were clear to breathe. During orientation for this site, my professors said we should allow ourselves to fall in love with the mamas we are working with. And from small talk with her in the morning to giving her reassuring smiles with my eyes in the OR since my mask was on to helping her breastfeed her son for the very first time in either of their lives, I did indeed fall in love with her.

About 24 hours after that, I was sitting at a funeral for a 24 year-old who I have known since he was born too. And today marks one year since Praise died. I'm just finding myself taking it all in, you know? I'm far from uncomfortable with death. I feel like there has been enough of it now - indiscriminate of age or reasons why - it just happens. People die. People are born. Keira was born. Geoff died. Brendon died. Baby boy was born. Still, it's a strange juxtaposition when it happens so concurrently. Just trying to take it all in. "It can open your heart, it can break you apart, and it never even slows down..."

What do tinctures, Tupac, and a barge have in common?

2011-10-19T20:30:00.008-04:00

In a word? ... Marin.

My community clinical placement this quarter has me in a county office with Public Health Nurses (PHNs) who work with resident clients on issues ranging from medication management to Adult Protective Service cases to finding housing for homeless citizens. It's a mixed bag out here across the bridge... that's for sure.

I try to err on the side of staying reasonably mum about my impressions and opinions relating to public institutions, places I'm working, and people I'm working with (with obvious exceptions I am WELL aware of thank you very much!!). Regardless, the internet is a very accessible place! So I'll just say this before I launch into what I have been specifically working on: Marin is an enormously wealthy, predominantly white community. Community Health placements are NOT the same as hospital med-surg floors. Thus, the pace... the energy required for a clinical day... the skills one has to draw from... the challenges one encounters... all very, VERY different than my summer on 14 Long. Dig? :)

Every Tuesday and Thursday morning, I wait for my friend Adam's holler from the street to let him into the garage with his bike. We hop in my car and cross the Golden Gate, watching for the glorious spot where the fog line recedes and the sun shines through. And then we do things like... well... meet up with our third half Kate, and show up at St. Vincent's soup kitchen during lunch service. With a bunch of flu vaccines. We set up right there in the cafeteria and two hours later, we walk out 53 flu vacs lighter.

A day later, we were out in the field at a community health fair. Our medication management booth was adjacent to a homeopath who was providing homeopathic flu vaccines. Intrigued as I was by her claims that she could also reverse autism with her elixirs, I did not bite on the homeopathic hook. Adam, on the other hand, abandoned all training, science, and reason he has ever been motivated by and foolishly accepted her tincture tea concoction. Two sips and a burning throat later, he came to his senses and hightailed it out of there. His EXACT words regarding the incident: "It tasted like tingly burning tree bark... It tasted like regret."

One of our favorite experiences was an orientation to Marin City by one of the PHNs who has worked with the community there for-ev-er. Marin City has about 3,000 residents and was initially a shipyard where African Americans from the South moved to work during World War II. The war ended and work dried up, but the community survived. Today it is situated in some of the most beautiful and highly valued pieces of land on the planet, since it overlooks the Bay and is literally 10 minutes from SF. It is filled with a lot of Section 8 housing, is a designated area of gang activity, and doesn't have a grocery store in its vicinity. It boasts the likes of Jack Kerouac, Annie Lamott, and Tupac Shakur as notable one-time citizens. We desperately want to work with the NP at the health clinic there - but it feels like it has been harder than it should to make that happen so I am not overly optimistic at this halfway point through the quarter.

As I said above, we have a number of PHNs that we can connect with to see if there is something we can go do with them. I knew I found a good fit for me with Sean when I saw a full BDU and weapon picture of him in an indistinguishable desert, a huge bald eagle/American flag picture on his computer desktop, and noted he looks like every middle aged detail guy I ever worked with in DC. LOVE IT! Long story short, he works with a community on Richardson Bay called "Anchor Outs" who live on dilapidated boats that they scrape together or buy for 125 bucks. They are totally at the whim of the elements, and have no direct way to get to shore other than inner tubes or dinghies they have. They have a full on community out there though - there are about 100 boats where some people have lived for years. Every winter there are a few deaths due to exposure. There are good guys and bad guys out there, I'm told, and the bad guys live in (drumroll please) THE BARGE. Lots of drugs happening on the barge. The barge is like... the big bully of the neighborhood. Anyway, Sean invited us to the meeting he had set up with the Police Dept's task force on homelessness. In the meantime, we concocted a plan (and YES, Adam, I'm giving YOU the credit!!) to ask the cops to take us out on their boat so we could offer flu vacs and basic health screenings to the Anchor Outs. We met with the PD this week and they seemed amendable to the plan but have some stuff to sort out first. So FINGERS CROSSED that we will actually get a date set for this endeavor and we can suit up in some scrubs and hop on a boat to give some shots! In the meantime, I am practicing the discipline of "letting Marin be Marin."

30 before 30: #14 Indulge in a day-spa package

2011-10-05T23:04:00.000-04:00

Two weekends ago, I was spoiled ROTTEN when I got to check the "day-spa package" off the 30 before 30 list. In honor of my 27th birthday, my birthmom Veronica, her two sisters Gloria and Roz, and her mom Mary treated me to an unbelievably relaxing and special day at the Spa at Cache Creek with them.

I have had fun spa treatments over the years at various places, but I had never had the whole shebang at once before. Now I can say... YES, it really is as amazing as it sounds :). We all started with some nice hot tea in the waiting area after we changed into our robes, then got right down to business with massages. Honestly, it's hard not to sound overly indulgent in this post so I will go ahead and take off the band aid fast for you: The rest of the day we spent at the cabana they rented for us to relax at between treatments- so between my massage, pedicure, AND facial, we were sipping greyhounds (or whatever we decided Gloria's special recipe was) by the pool. Oh my lord, it was heaven.

I was feeling so pampered by the end of the day, I almost fell over from shock when we walked into the hotel room and they had snuck in during the day and set up - wait for it - 27 BIRTHDAY GIFTS for me to open. Amazingly perfect gifts - A really nice traveler coffee mug that is fast becoming my morning best friend, gift cards to all my favorite/most used places, a BEAUTIFUL bracelet that Gloria picked out and personalized for me, the most cozy blanket I've ever used, and so many more.

So needless to say, this 30 before 30 blew ALL expectations out of the water. From the spa treatments and the facility itself to the pool cabana to the showering of gifts to the time we spent together over meals (and losing money at the penny slots with Veronica!), it was a very special time. Thank you SO much to Veronica, Mary, Roz, and Gloria for your outpouring of love on my 27th birthday :)

So long, Sweet Summer

2011-09-30T21:59:00.000-04:00

Annnnd we're back.

Actually I've been back for over a week now, but have most avoided being behind the computer all the time again. Hence the lack of blog updates.

Bobby came to visit for Labor Day weekend and it was SO good to have him here in SF. He came right on the heels of summer quarter, so I was definitely ready for some fun and R&R with him. Bobby is one of my favorites - always steady, always up for whatever is on the agenda, and always fun and easy to be with. Fortunately he did not drag me out to Alcatraz or Pier 39 :) - Instead his visit included a hike to the bridge, lots of good food, a fabulous night at Arista in wine country with David and his friend from Turkey (with a surprise cameo from Yann and his friend in from NYC), and an AWESOMELY unexpected afternoon of classic rock at the Sausalito Art and Wine Festival.

I spent a handful of nights out in the East Bay on a "STAYcation" with my mom. It's so nice and quiet and relaxing and most importantly SUNNY out there, and I just couldn't leave :). Dad and Julie were out of town celebrating their birthdays at the US Open, so it was just my mom and I there to enjoy some hang out time together with pedicures and lunch and taking the kids to fro-yo.

And then there was Mexico. A little place right on the Pacific. A warm place with no memory.

But before the beach there was la ciudad de Mexico with Patrick. I had the best weekend imaginable in D.F. Patrick is there doing research for a month or so before his next stop in Chile and is living with one of his best friends from his program named Diana (or LA CASADORA/The Huntress to us). Together, Diana and Patrick thought out the most perfect weekend of places to walk, see, eat, and do. Patrick knows me so well and knows how I like to travel and married that with Diana's amazing knowledge of Mexico and the city itself. It was the best "fast and dirty" of an ENORMOUS city I can think of and it was entirely in thanks to their hospitality. Diana is SUCH a cool person - a great friend to Patrick and now to me. I love that they have each other as they wade through their program together! I can't say thank you enough for a great weekend, you guys. The only thing I regret is not finding me a cheesy I Heart DF shirt to remind me of how much I really do LOVE that city.

Of course, leaving D.F. and ending up a few hours later laying by the pool with a beer in hand did not a difficult transition make! I met up with Lo, Jess, Haley, and Sarah at the airport and flew with them to Zihuatanejo - landing in perfect weather, I might add, despite our accuweather fears we would be in thunderstorms all week.

We spent the week at a beautiful house on a small beach my friend Lauren has been surfing at for about 8 years. Throughout the week, the girls surfed at the point and I watched from my favorite reading spot at the house...

Maybe about every other day we had some afternoon excursion down the muddy potholed road in our unimpressive but faithful rental car. Some days just to do a beer bottle swap in Los Llanos, others to my favorite find the whole trip - the Miches Ixtapa stand:

Or one morning when Haley, Jess, Sarah, and I schleped it over to Troncones before sunrise to meet up with a fisherman named Samba to take us out to catch some Mahi-Mahi. Five hours later we had no fish and no bites but we walked away with a lot of sun, a handful of dolphin spotings, and a chance to ride around on a huge Mexican fisherman's boat (huge fisherman, not huge boat) - a win, all in all.

We spent a lot of time talking with (or should I say listening to) Lauren's friend Pato. Anything from pharmaceutical company conspiracies to the benefits of organic farming to dancing with as opposed to fighting against life. Pato looks like this when he gets in a talking/teaching/preaching mode. And I love it:

To Pato's credit, I specifically said on Day 1 of the trip that no, I WASN'T going to be joining his beach trash pickup group that evening. But by Day 5 or 6? Well... how could I resist that moustache?

On my 27th birthday, we packed a cooler and headed down the beach to Roberto's tent at sunset. We laid in his hammocks and took too much of his good salt and limes and talked too much for his liking, but Roberto sang us some tunes anyway. Some originals, some Dylan, and a Happy Birthday. Roberto on guitar, one of us on eggs, everyone at the chorus.

I've saved the best for last... and her name is Augustina. She and her husband are the caretakers of the house we rented and while they're both amazing, Augustina made the food :). Chilaquiles, mountains of lobster, fresh tortillas at EVERY meal, chile rellenos, fresh fish in banana leaves, tacos al camarones, huevos verdes. Sweet Lord.

Summer 2011... time well spent.

30 before 30: #4 Run a 5k or maybe even a 10k

2011-08-28T15:11:00.003-04:00

I've always wanted to be a runner but never really believed it was something I could achieve. I mean, how many runner friends do you have who say "Yeah, I used to hate running too but now 5 miles is nothing." Oh please!

Well... 5 miles still feels like a lot to me, but a 5k? I can do that. I did that yesterday before breakfast :)

When I heard about the Giant Race and getting to finish ON THE FIELD at the ballpark, I knew it was the race I wanted to shoot for to fulfill my 30 before 30 5k. So I recruited some buddies, bought the "Get Running" app for my iphone, and had gave myself plenty of time to get from zero to runner.

I remember every step of the way to get from 1 minute intervals... to 2 minutes... 5 minutes... 8 minutes!! I couldn't believe when I was running 8 whole minutes in a ROW! It makes me feel almost foolish to admit that those were legitimate milestones that I had to train for, sweat for, and discipline myself in order to accomplish.

My most vivid training memory was when I was running outside in Tahoe and listening to "Glorious" by Newsboys, surrounded by mountains and snow and trees and sky and just feeling light on my feet and light in my soul. I remember realizing that I'm not trying to be a runner anymore... that I *am* a runner.

I spent the last few weeks trying to squeeze in training runs between classes and clinicals and ended up with two goals for the race: 1. Run the whole thing. 2. Do it in under 35 mins. I knew with Jenn Kleist at my side with her "Don't Stop Believin' 5k" mix blaring and encouragement flowing, it would be a piece of cake. We all went to the game on Friday night (I never thought I would be praying for a win against the Astros, but good job Giants!) and came back to my house to sleep before the race on Saturday am.

It was FREEZING at the starting line, but Matt Cain (!) was there to start us off down on the south side of the China Basin. The route took us from there around the park by Willie Mays Plaza, up the Embarcadero to the turnaround at the Ferry Building, and back down to the ballpark. Along the route was a gospel choir from Oakland (awesome), a cheer squad (only in SF would there be a 20:1 male to female cheerleader ratio!), and a bunch of family/friend onlookers. I felt GREAT the whole race... just so exciting to be around THAT many people running, running alongside my friends, and reflecting on how far I had come.

To end the race, we turned into the ballpark and were hit with a bunch of cheering friends/family in the stands as we ran along the track to the finish line. I could not stop smiling. Man, what it must feel like to play on that field and look up at the stands at a sell out game! It's so beautiful and loud and energizing. We got our medals... and water, yogurt, bananas, bagels, cliff bars, coconut waters... Timmy bobbleheads... and race tshirts. Yay for swag! There were tons of booths to visit, more runners coming in, and a kids race to watch (so cute!) before we left and went to get a well-deserved bloody mary at 21st Amendment :)

The final results are in and I met both my goals! Definitely ran the whole race and came in at 33:49. Here are the full 5k stats:
Overall: 1290 out of 3466
Women: 612 out of 2129
F 25-29: 181 out of 500
Finish: 33:49 Pace: 10:54

Thoughts on all this:
I'm thankful to my friends who agreed to do this with me and stuck it out from training to finish line. I was so much more motivated in the training I did alone this summer just by knowing August 27th would come and I'd be running with you. So THANK YOU Nicku, Renee, Jenn, Jen, Jess, and Higuera (yay for doing our first race together!).

I'm going back and forth on if I am surprised I did this or not. I feel like I really knew all along I would do it and do it well, but I remain amazed at what we can make our bodies do if we are mentally disciplined enough to do it. Four months ago, I couldn't run a mile. Now I can run 3.1 miles and feel great about it. It's something I have stuck with for no other reason than I set a goal for myself and I wanted to achieve it. So I did. And I'm proud.

Finally, the elephant on the blog is that this 30 before 30 specifically says "Run a 5k and maybe even a 10k." Let's just put it out there in the universe here and now that next year will be the 10k. And I'm STOKED.

Giants will release Pat Burrell... unless they don't!

2011-08-28T13:45:00.000-04:00

(Dang... I originally posted this on 8/2 and accidentally deleted it when I was editing another post... LAME! Sorry for the repost! Interesting to re-read the article, though, and realize how much the team has suffered from injuries in even these last four weeks. It hurts!)

The first time I saw Pat Burrell was back when he played for the Phillies and I was behind home plate in my boss' seats at Nats Park. "WHO is THAT" was all I could get out through my jaw hanging open and immediately used my "phone a friend" lifeline to Clint (who is the only person I knew would have the answer since he grew up in Philly). Fast forward three years and imagine my delight at finding out Pat the Bat had traded in his Philly red for Giants orange. Now rewind to last weekend when, amidst all the trade deadline rumors, I was unceremoniously informed that Burrell had been let go and once again used my lifeline to Clint (who I knew solely would understand how my attachment had come to be and how it couldn't possibly be over for me and Pat).

Well, as it turns out, Burrell hasn't been officially let go. The rumors were bad, preemptive reporting. The blog post below from McCovey Chronicles gives the best analysis I can find on the issue but the reality is (and it pains me to say)... I think we may have indeed seen the last of Pat the Bat taking the field in San Francisco.

Giants will release Pat Burrell unless they don't

By Grant Brisbee

www.mccoveychronicles.com

Last night, there was a good, old-fashioned freakout. It's been too long. The story was that the Giants were planning to release Pat Burrell and demote Brandon Belt to make room for Carlos Beltran on the 40-man and 25-man rosters, respectively.

Belt is never going to play, so that wasn't the reason for the freakout. It's awful that he isn't going to get that chance, but he was never going to get at-bats. Let him get at-bats so he's ready for 2013, because if he can't play over an Aubrey Huff with a sub-.300 on-base percentage, he's never playing over Aubrey Huff. He probably will be the hitter sent down today.

So why the freakout over Burrell? He's a popular guy, sure, and I'm sure he's the biological father of some of the readers here, even if they don't really know that yet. But he's just a fifth outfielder -- a low-average, master of the three true outcomes. What he did last year will never be forgotten, but I'm okay with him on the bench. Break out the wOBA charts if you must, but he's an atrocious defender, enough to break a tie between him and Ross, Torres, or Schierholtz.

Here's my best explanation, then, for the freakout:

This site, myself included, is filled with people who probably take the Giants a little too seriously.

Haha, just kidding. That can't be it. Here's the real explanation:

Over the next two seasons, the Giants will pay Aaron Rowand and Pat Burrell combined $25 million. If they release Rowand, they pay $25 million dollars. If they release Burrell, they pay $25 million dollars. This is what a sunk cost is. The Giants know this. Dave Roberts got paid millions of dollars to announce post-game shows for the Red Sox in 2008.

The question, then, is who would help the Giants more as a fifth outfielder? The money's gone. Poof. It ain't coming back. By allocating more of the money to one of the two players, you don't get a better player. So look at both players and how they fit on the current roster. The Giants have:

Cody Ross*
Andres Torres*
Carlos Beltran*
Nate Schierholtz

The ones with asterisks are the ones who can play center. Well, that's not quite true. Nate Schierholtz can play center too, the Giants have just never tried him there. Ross and Torres are center fielders. Beltran isn't any more, but he could cover in a pinch. So for the Giants' fifth outfielder, what's more important?

A player whose value is entirely dependent on playing center field

A player whose value is entirely dependent on hitting home runs and taking the occasional walk

It's not a trick question. They're making a combined $25 million no matter who you release. They both have their very specific uses. But which skill set do the Giants need?

Burrell, no question, is a better fit. Rowand is done as a hitter -- almost nothing stabilizes quicker than strikeouts and walks, and over his past 633 plate appearances, he's struck out 136 times and walked 26 times, hitting .233 with 13 home runs. He can't hit. You can believe in his last 10 at-bats. I'll believe in his last 600.

But if the Giants get rid of Burrell, we're going to see a whole lot of Rowand late-inning pinch-hitting roles. He'd be the guy, the bat off the bench. Venters, Kimbrel, Madson, Bell, Adams ... Rowand. Whiteside bloops a single against Huston Street, and ... Rowand. He'd be the outfielder equivalent of carrying three catchers.

It wouldn't be a crippling move to keep Rowand over Burrell, and it wouldn't undo the improvements of the Beltran trade. It's just disappointing because the Giants wouldn't stay as good as they could have today, never mind the sentimental attachment to one of the reasons the Giants even made the playoffs in 2010.

Strip away the emotion and the subjectivity, and it's still pretty clear that Burrell makes for a better 25th man on the Giants than Rowand. I'm not saying Rowand needs to go (just hinting!) but if it's a choice between Burrell and Rowand, I don't see how that's a choice at all.

Nursing Firsts

2011-08-19T01:19:00.005-04:00

So far this summer, I have felt the nursey-posts have almost written themselves. I have not had to look very hard for inspiration or relevant anecdotes. But I've hit a little writers block these last two weeks and I think I'm finally ready to publicly admit why. That is... that I really f***ed up for the first time with a real live patient.

I'm a little (a lot) reluctant with the details but suffice it to say it was a perfect storm of my novice judgment, the nurse I was assigned to being wrapped up in a different patient's emergency (seriously a crisis... we figured out he was having multiple brain hemorrhages), and feeling so so bad that such a nice man was stuck with me and my unpracticed technique. So, I screwed up... did some due diligence with RN-informing and charting... texted my go-to friend and also a heart-group-nursing-student buddy for immediate intercessory prayer (CRB and Dailey - you did good... thank you)... and went home utterly dejected and terrified. I crawled under my covers with a glass of wine and cinnamon puffins and spent the whole night indiscriminately tossing them into my mouth and praying for God to cover my ASS until I could get to the hospital the next morning and ensure everything was fine. And it was to be fine, so... God? Thanks for covering my ass.

And also another shout out to God for redeeming my mistake SO much that I ended up doing my very first SQ injections on this same patient (yes... he still let me touch him the next day!). Injections... oye! Such a rite of passage. I actually also didn't do the best job on the heparin SQ either but... what can you do? I'm learning and sometimes (most times?) with nursing, you have to learn the hard way.

I feel like I want to say more about this patient because I will remember him for a long, long, long time to come. He was Spanish speaking and NOT ALTERED MENTAL STATUS (!!!) - such a treat to have patients who aren't AMS once in awhile (right Alyssa and Camie!?). He had a bunch of things going on with his health, but they all boiled down to diabetes-related amputation of his toe not being enough to fight the gangrene and he was facing a decision to amputate below the knee. His son never left his side and served as his dad's interpreter to the point where the son went through a medical interpretation program to better assist in his dad's care. They just... ugh... are wonderful people who wanted me to learn, appreciated my effort to speak Spanish and laugh at all my gringaness, and reinforced the valuable lesson to ALWAYS listen to your patients and include them in their care process. It was a life-giving student nurse opportunity - one that RNs can't always enjoy because of the constraints of having four patients who need intense individualized care. (For any curious readers, the patient declined the amputation and went home with heavy antibiotics and great hope they would work miracles. Barring a medical miracle or a mind change, it is likely he will decline very rapidly over the next few months and ultimately die from the gangrene and other co-morbidities).

So maybe this is a post about nursing firsts. Over the last two weeks, I gave my first meds (literally about 50 tabs to a non-complaint AMS patient who I ultimately won over by the end of the day - WIN!), gave my first IM and SQ injections, did my first central line dressing change, gave like 20 meds through a G-tube, really felt like I took care of a patient semi-independently with nursing process and goals for the day, had a patient die before 9am, had a patient who asked me to call him "Romeo", and as mentioned.. really screwed up for the first time.

The Faith Rx

2011-08-05T01:18:00.001-04:00

Last week I was sitting at one of the cows (name for the random computers that seem to always end up in a different corner of the hallway day to day) fiddling around on the charting system called UCare when I heard the patient in the adjacent room just straight up crying her eyes out. I leaned back in my chair enough to peak in and see her laying in fetal position, shaking from tears and pain. Her nurse was on top of giving her pain meds according to orders, but they weren't reaching her abdomen with enough strength to combat yet another ERCP for chronic pancreatitis.

Twenty-four hours later, she was still in the middle of a major pain crisis when I was assigned to helping with her care. One of my favorite roles of a nurse is a patient advocate, but as a student nurse I don't have the ability much less the experience to know when recovery is running its normal course versus when a doctor needs to step the care up a notch. The RN I was with felt it was the latter, and went to work trying to get the dosage right for the patient to achieve SOME degree of comfort.

Somewhere amidst this back and forth of pain management, the patient's description of the pain turned into the implications it has had on her life. Her husband always worked so hard, she said, and these were supposed to be happy retirement years... to travel and enjoy this life he made for them. Her garden would be ruined by the summer heat by the time she got home. Simple things, perhaps, in comparison to her anguish from praying over... and over... and over for God to take her pain away. God isn't listening, she said. She's all prayed out. God isn't listening. She's angry and she can't pray anymore.

I think one of the unteachable nursing "things" is what kind of Rx to give a patient who has lost their faith. Because we all bring OURSELVES into this profession, right? We all bring our experiences, our beliefs, our... US. So, never being the laying-hands-missionary-type myself, I was quiet. Something about every response I could think of was so wildly inadequate. I mean, what? God's going to heal you completely and you'll be in Bali in no time! No. God's given you this burden because He knew you could handle it! Double no.

Funny how God DOES give us grace for the moment though. The only honest thing I could think of to tell her was that when we feel we don't have another word in us for God, God puts people in place to speak a word for us.

The chaplain was in the room within about 5 minutes of contacting him (they're amazing at UC - I hope they're amazing at all the sites and not just at the fancy hospitals) and I can't begin to describe the peace the emanated from her spirit after the visit. Her pain was still acute - and would be, I heard, for days after - but I looked through her charts this week and saw that she had daily visits from the chaplain from that point on that were described as meaningful and comforting.

And to me, the faith Rx is leagues more meaningful and comforting than any physicians orders or nursing intervention I am training to handle.

Week Five

2011-07-26T02:09:00.004-04:00

Week five felt a little easier: 5am wasn't so early. Respiratory rates didn't take so long to count (or even to remember to take in the first place for that matter). I didn't have to use my cheat sheet to find the code for the bathroom, pantry, utilities closet, or coat room. My love/hate with the thermometer-taker subsided. My string cheese, handful of wasabi wow trail mix, and protein shake is the perfect combination of calories and quickness to keep me running for the shift.

Week five was exciting: During the morning shift change, I found out one of my patients was getting a thoracentesis that morning and I all but got on my knees and begged to be able to watch. A huge long needle and catheter going into the pleural cavity through an intercostal to drain some nasty gross fluid accumulation out? Yes please! My patient was a 68 year old woman with a long history of meth use who had just found out she had cancer in her liver that is ultimately going to kill her. Whether it was the meth or the cancer I'm not sure, but her right lung was completely diminished thanks to about 3 liters of interpleural fluid surrounding it. She was a sweet, sad woman who was only then realizing the extent to which she ruined her body... and her life, it seemed, by the conversation I overheard when her 30+ years-estranged daughter called on the phone. The doctor who came to do the procedure was happy to let me watch and when he cleared it with the patient, her one request was to ask if I would hold her hand. Sweet, sad woman. Her little lung came up on the ultrasound - both lobes visible. Three needles, one incision, and a 1L bottle full of tea-colored fluid later... she laid back to recover and I simply had to tell her that I know she felt like crap, but hell if her hair wasn't looking like the day she last got it did. Sweet, sad smile.

Week five was a win for the English majors of the world: A patient in for another all-too-frequent ERCP was counting down the minutes until her husband showed up so she could discharge. To pass the time a bit I prompted a conversation about the book she was reading next to her bed. Guess whose bed that book is living by now? I'll let you know how it is in my next installment of book reviews ;).

Week five was a lesson in what not to do when it's time to let your parents be in comfort care: Well. Actually that's that really what the lesson was here, but I'll go with it for now. A son in grief over his 80-something year old mother's deteriorating condition was constantly attempting to feed her despite chronic aspiration and extremely impaired alertness and orientation. He wanted normal routine vitals to be taken, nutrients to continue, morphine to subside. He wanted attention from the Attending. None of the "young doctors" to treat his mother back to health. This difficulty is not really a nurse's burden to bear (although of course we are involved and drawn into the discussions... and, possibly, have a voice with the family where the doctors are unable ). It was sad to watch all of the wheels come off like that when there was so clearly a way forward towards making her comfortable. The importance of THAT lesson is only going to become more underscored as I experience it in my own sphere. But the real nursing lesson for me this week is there are few things more beautiful than when a palliative patient is resting comfortably. I must have stared at her for minutes at a time for signs to tell me what would make her head relax more...for her breathing become less labored... her arms and legs supported... her fingers interlocked. She mumbled indecipherably to me through closed eyes when I said good morning the second day I had her as a patient, but I knew that she understood all that was going on around her. And at least for the times the suite was quiet and there was no family or doctors to squabble over care plans, she was peace-filled.

Week five left me in awe of the era of medicine we live in: The PICC nurses let me watch them put a new central line in for a patient downstairs. We don't get much of those on my floor, so this was a real treat that my clinical instructor Angel totally hooked me up with. I want to explain this whole process step by step, but this post is starting to feel wordy. Suffice it to say... I'm sure I looked ridiculous in my sterile hat and mask, but as I watched on the ultrasound as that tricky little wet noodle line got pushed in from the arm and across the shoulder... chest... and paused before registering its decent down into it's new superior vena cava home, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for this art of healing through science.

Week five reinforced that life is not fair: My first glimpse of my 18 year old cancer patient was walking in on him halfway off the bed, supporting himself up with one hand over a yellow-gatorade-vomit-soaked sheet on the floor. 6'1, good muscle tone, not one strand of hair left anywhere on his body, pale as all get out, and a smile to make you forget about the grapefruit sized tumor on his knee. I can't really talk about him more than this other than to say I think it's bullshit that an 18 year old kid is stuck in a dark boring hospital room during summer watching crappy daytime tv to pass the time when he wants to be out in the world trying to become something "cool" like a criminal investigator. It's unfair. Even for a dodger's fan.

And lastly, week five made me realize I want to work as a registered nurse. Not as a CNS, not as an NP. Those roles will come, surely. But I really want to work as an RN along the path to getting there.

Thank You Note from Hannie

2011-07-21T02:14:00.000-04:00

BEST thank you note EVER! Oh my gosh I cannot stop laughing. Remember the days when 8 bucks and one to grow on might as well have been a million?

WSP: A Look Back...

2011-07-13T18:02:00.007-04:00

I'm flying out to DC tomorrow to see my dear friends Sean and Shana get hitched - and it has gotten me thinking about how SIX years have gone by since I first met this band of crazies. It all started with my Semester at Sea roommate Liz who did a semester in DC after we got off the ship. Almost all my DC friends (except my gays and coworkers) come from some connection to that initial WSP 2005 group (which we affectionately called The Bartlett Administration at the time - and of which Sean was/is POTUS and Shana, then, FLOTUS). Anyway here we are 6 years later, and I couldn't help myself from going back through pictures now that I have some back from storage and realizing how it feels like EVERYTHING has changed, NOTHING has changed, and... above all... how often we were in costume.

This is the earliest group picture I could find, but I definitely remember pictures from the EOS apartment days and the "tiki" party someone threw. (Does anyone have those? Send them to me and I'll add them!) Anyway I believe THIS Halloween was at Callanan and Erika's apartment in somewhere VA, right? PS Who is that blonde girl next to Liz? What man did she belong to?

These pictures are from right after Liz, Rachel, and I moved into 548 - was crazy hats not the first party we ever threw there?? I think it was...

Of course the next right move was to evolve in complexity from hats to full-on 80s, which we did QUITE well. What I remember from this night is setting up a PROJECTOR in the living room to blast 80s music videos on. And streamers. Oh my god I worked for EVER on those twirly streamers all over the ceilings. I also remember Steve "Big Guns" Allen and his Navy buddies showing up in normal human clothes and proceeding to raid Liz's wardrobe for "80s" looks. And, as always, flip cup in the kitchen and Callanan ending up amongst the trash.

Shamrock Fest. I want EVERYONE to know that I really REALLY restrained from publicly revealing the pictures I have in my arsenal from Shamrock Fest. I think we made it to two Shamrock Fests as a crew and I cannot stop laughing at why that was deemed the BEST POSSIBLE TIME for Muffin's homemade empanadas to make their first entrance. Also noteworthy - remember when POTUS and Muffin like legit RACED up that stupid climbing wall in the middle of the parking lot? Good GOD.

Another Halloween - at Muffin and Sweeting's place near H St. Corridor. I. HATE. HALLOWEEN. But I think I finally was a good sport and put on like a Minnie Mouse costume at the last minute. Regardless, Roman's costume definitely takes the cake on this one for me. And also this is where I first start seeing Tiff show up in pictures! (Other than Memorial Day in Orient... which I can't find my pictures of!)

Ok now for some nice ones... Birthday in Monticello, TRADEMARK picture of us on the barrels on the North Fork, Cute one of Liz and I on the Speaker's Balcony, and a Family Thanksgiving Dinner shot (in an effort to represent ALL the MANY family meals we enjoyed together... even the all-out Christmas Brunch where we had the unexpected Fire Department guests show up. Oops.) And OF COURSE the last time we got all gussied up for Phil and Tiff's wedding :)

I'm sorry if this post feels disjointed or exclusive to those of you who don't know anyone in these pictures... but for me it is amazing reminder of the history I have going into the weekend ahead with these dear friends. Having TOO MANY hilarious pictures and memories to chose from is one of the best problems I can think of to have. All of these memories are made even sweeter when I think about the last time I was in DC which was for the trial (and wouldn't you know it - the only picture I could find from that trip was one of Muffin drinking BOONES (!!!!) on his couch after the trial went in recess for the day). All of these friends (including others outside DC, specifically Clint who has actually been by my side for three years longer than WSP friends) have been there from the morning we found ourselves in the hospital waiting on Rachel to wake up... to showing up at 548 to help move us out around the horrific scene the house had become... to supporting us in dealing with the media and detectives and laywers... to sitting in the court room EVERY DAY of the trial despite needing to be at work. Well.. happy days are here again, Bartlett Administration! It is going to be a GREAT weekend of celebration and I cannot WAIT to see you all.

UPDATE: I just found these that are either relevant to the aforementioned memories OR just couldn't be left out... Disfrutan!

The climbing wall at Shamrock Fest... WITH MUFFIN AND POTUS en route!

Muffin and his empanadas!

I found Orient pics! 1st comes love, then comes marriage, then the baby in the baby carriage = Phil and Tiff

How does one comment on perfection such as this?!

POTUS and FLOTUS

Orient, NY. The most relaxing place on earth because there's nothing else to do but relax.

Or make out with guys in canoes... (You're welcome!)

A New Axiom

2011-07-09T20:11:00.002-04:00

Two tests on Wednesday of this week had the whole cohort spun up into a tizzy. It can be said that our type thrives on stress, so maybe that's what contributed to the tension everyone created for themselves. All that talk had me in a semi-panic when I realized how much I took to heart the idea of "balance" in this craziness and didn't study at all during 4th of July weekend. Yet from that temporary psychosis, a new axiom emerged: The most important thing is to become a kickass nurse.

But part of getting to that place is the growing pains of not being there yet. Not even close. I forget to count respiration rate on vitals all. the. time. Then what?! I've just been faking it on the charts. I even got semi-called out (in a nice way) by the nurse I was with this week and I still faked it. UGH! So stupid. I also have "student nurse" insecurity - I hate making the patient wait or try again just because I'm retarded! So embarrassing. *SO* humbling.

I've just never been challenged like this before. I've always been good at what I do or stayed away from what I suck at. This whole process is a blend of those two. Because of this, I am grateful to have some life experience and a not-fresh-out-of-college maturity level to fall back on. I'm OK with my weaknesses to improve on. I'm even okay with them being publicly exposed! The most important thing is to become a kickass nurse.

On the floor this week, I recognized a family member of a patient about to get discharged into hospice care. Suffice it to say that was bizarre for both of us, but ultimately a great reminder that this work is not isolated. The patient probably has another week or two in her so for now the highest priority was pain management. She was in a lot of it. But the PCA and I began to give her a bed bath anyway - gently with the warm towel over her swollen legs... firm grasp over her shoulders to roll her on her side... whispering encouragement that it was almost over... loosely locking my fingers in her hand as we waited for the EMTs to ready her transport. She was not able to formulate many words between her drowsiness and difficulty orienting herself, but she offered a decisive "thank you" before she left.

I hope I'm the kind of nurse who will always consider it a privilege to participate in personal care. For now though, I hope I'm the kind of student who remembers the most important thing is to become a kickass nurse.

The Type of Life Being Led

2011-07-02T19:35:00.003-04:00

Harold: What is wrong with you? I don't want to eat nothing but pancakes, I want to live! I mean, who in their right mind when given the choice between pancakes and living chooses pancakes!?

Dr. Hilbert: Harold, if you pause to think, you'd realize that that answer is inextricably contingent upon the type of life being led... and, of course, the quality of the pancakes

Firstly, let's agree that this quote from the movie Stranger than Fiction from a few years ago (and previously posted on this blog way back when) is hilarious and a comedic high point for Dustin Hoffman and Will Ferrell's characters in the film. It makes me laugh on a basic level... but moreover I love how they scratch up against the concept of how we CHOOSE to live our lives. Doesn't choosing between pancakes or life truly depend on the individual pancake up against the individual life?

On the floor this week I had patients who have made decisions that have brought them to a place where they just might chose pancakes. Diabetes and alcohol abuse and Hep C and failure to thrive. And I had patients this week who, like Harold, want to live.

An elderly partially-English speaking patient with beautiful long hair, a husband with kind eyes, and grandkids to get home to came into the hospital with ankle and knee pain. She left with a shiny new walker. I worry about if the walker will serve as more of a hindrance than a help to her longevity as she comes to rely on it more and more. But her eyes were bright, her medication was minimal, and her eagerness to get back to living her life with her family is proving to be more important in patient outcomes than I ever realized. Before she discharged, she told me in broken English that I chose a wonderful profession that will really help people - and to guard my smile and optimism closely.

Another patient had been battling breast cancer since 1997 and done everything in the medical arsenal to kill it; unsuccessfully. She's one of a very small group receiving experimental chemo treatments now, and came to us because of pneumonia risk. Short of breath, exhausted, weak. She vomited up her breakfast the moment she attempted it, and wearily told us that that hasn't been a symptom for her until this new therapy. The chaplain was doing rounds shortly after and she invited him in for communion while I was in there for vitals. I made myself scarce in the corner of the room while he spoke the Lord's Prayer over her and I literally forced tears back into my eyes, willing them not to spill in front of the patient. I wondered at what drove her to fight for 14 years like this, but when I heard about her two doctor daughters and saw her teenage granddaughter sitting by her bed later in the day, I understood that the decision was inextricably contingent upon the type of life being led.

The Furnace

2011-06-28T00:56:00.002-04:00

14 Long at the Med Center is 1/3 chemo, 1/3 medicine, and 1/3 palliative care. The chemo side is quiet - doors closed except for the few passers through. Patients in their beds and maybe a family member plinking away at a laptop to pass the time. The medicine hall is kind of a mystery to me so far - some doors are open with daytime TV drifting out into the hallway. Others are closed, but judging from the bold lettered signs next to the precautionary gowns, gloves, and masks you have to put on to before going inside, it's a good thing they are! By far the most activity is on the palliative wing, where family groups are gathered at doorways - allowing one or two at a time in to say their goodbyes. There's a beautiful solarium at the corner of the palliative hall that feels like a crows nest overlooking the skyline and the Golden Gate and the sea. A reminder that life is still happening to all the lookers-out.

So on every Thursday and Friday this summer from 7-4pm, that's where I will be. Struggling to stay out of the nurses way but still learn from what they're doing. Attempting to be useful with the so-far-not-very-extensive skills I learn in lab. Willing my hands to avoid the nervous shakes when I take a patient's vitals. Praying to all things holy that I don't mess up... at least not too badly.

14 Long will force me to put my head down, dig deep, and keep my sense of humor. I don't really know what I was expecting, but I can tell you this: Last week when I was leaning against the wall with a classmate- our eyes wide, our discomfort palpable- I started to giggle. "Welp. I guess this is the furnace," I said, "And we just got thrown right in."

Little Miss Brand New Start

2011-06-22T01:24:00.000-04:00

To say that this week marks the beginning of a journey would be neglecting everything that led to this point: working like it depended on me and praying like it depended on God to get me into an Anatomy class for Summer 2009... realizing that I, too, wanted my life to be about service at Denny Hastert's retirement dinner... trekking to Georgetown Minimed school with Liz in Spring 2007(?)... visiting a rural health clinic in las afueras in San Jose, Costa Rica in 2005. So really, like so many things in life, this is another chapter of a bigger story. A long, involved, detailed, important chapter.

What I'm thinking about a lot is how God is redeeming so many disappointments through this opportunity. I hated my undergrad social experience at GW - it was a dark, lonely time that I have always carried a chip on my shoulder about. Here I am surrounded by 75 motivated, friendly, helpful, open-hearted, high-capacity people. I mourned the loss of my house in DC - not only the awesomeness of that townhouse and the vicinity to the metro and my walk-in closet and personal bathroom, but also the HOME it was to my friends, roommates, and me. Now my DC peach room has metamorphosed into an SF orange room with roommates who pontificate about the matrices in health care, prove that artist and starving don't have to go arm in arm, and manipulate a bacteria colony into the most delicious fizzy kombucha you can imagine.

I wore scrubs today for the first time. The khaki bottoms and hunter green tops make us stick out like sore thumbs as people who have zero idea as to what they're doing. I don't mind. I'm proud. I'm inspired. I'm... ready.

Spring Reads

2011-05-30T15:57:00.002-04:00

As luck would have it, I did indeed have ample time to attack my stack of vacation books. I've been really trying to whittle them down before school starts since Lord knows what will happen once I'm in the throes of the 4th Edition of "Understanding Pathophysiology"...

"I feel ambivalent about selling my services in a world where some can't buy them. You can feel ambivalent about that, because you should feel ambivalent."

"I think whenever a people has enormous resources, it is easy for them to call themselves democratic. I think of myself more as a physician than an American... Look, I am very proud to be an American. I have many opportunities because I'm an American. I can travel freely throughout the world, I can start projects, but that's called a privilege, not democracy."

A couple of the girls I met when I interviewed at UCSF mentioned Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder to me when I told them I was interviewing for an Advanced Community Health and International Nursing specialty. This book chronicles the work of Dr. Paul Farmer and his home base clinic in the mountains of (pre-earthquake) Haiti. It is his story, of course, but it also focuses on how Dr. Farmer's methods of combating TB and Multi-Drug Resistant TB have affected the World Health Organization's approach to the disease worldwide. It was a fascinating and timely book for me. Might get a little boggy-downy for the non-medically interested reader, but if you're into the "health as social justice" movement... it is a must read.

Oh my GOSH. The Hunger Games. SO. STINKIN. GOOD. Let's back up... I was poking around the bookstore listening to Sarah and Vinnie (my never-miss-a-second morning radio show) and Sarah started RAVING about the book she snatched from her preteen son and how she read it in one sitting the night before because she couldn't put it down. Since I am quite secure in my identity as a reader, I have no qualms about taking up with a worthy teen fiction series (although I do acknowledge that Twilight was nothing more than a guilty pleasure). And like Sarah, I busted through The Hunger Games at lightning speed. The quick synopsis is this... it's set in kind of a post-apocalyptic America that has been divided into twelve districts. Every year, one male and one female between the ages of 12-17 are selected to represent their districts at the Rockies-based capitol where a HUGE television-ready outdoor arena has been set up for them to fight each other to the death until the sole victor emerges. "Tributes" are required to survive harsh conditions, hunger, limited resources, whatever the Gamemakers throw at them to make it more interesting for the watching world, and of course - each other. That summary should tip you off to whether you should pick it up or not... some people love this stuff, some don't. It's fine. But I am DYING to get my paws on Book Two.

"The moment he walked into the shop I knew he was going to be my kind of trouble. Some people carry a charge, you know - you can see it in their colors, and his were the pale yellow-blue flare of a gas jet turned very low that could explode at any time."

The Girl with No Shadow by Joanne Harris is the sequel to one of my favorite stories called Chocolat. I am a little embarrassed to admit I only saw the Johnny Depp and Juliette Binoche movie and didn't actually read the book. Oh well, the movie is one of my favorites so I still feel protective over my claim on it. I pledge now to read the book. As for the sequel, it's kind of a same main characters in a same same but different situation in a same same but different community. But the sequel's storyline is driven around... well... witchcraft. Was Chocolat the book like this? There are wonderful mystical elements in the movie... was "mystical" actually "occult" in the book? In any case, it's a full-on fact in this book that Vianne is a witch and so is Anouk and also the Vianne-Roux lovechild named Rosette. And it's kind of a "good witches" against the "bad witch" villain story. Ok wow, this really was a weird book, wasn't it? I admit I liked some of the writing and got through it quickly, but if you're going to read Joanne Harris... read The Five Quarters of the Orange, which was wonderful I recall.

Ok last one. Confession: I haven't finished it. I've been trying to get through it for about three months now. My mom and Linda Carey RAVED about this book and I think they just got my expectations a little too high. So high, in fact, that when I read Roy Goble's "Junkyard Wisdom" blogpost on it (click here!), I was determined to get through the book armed with an arsenal of reasons he was dead wrong about Dr. Verghese needing a major length overhaul. Well Roy... here I am three months later... only half way through... and standing very, VERY corrected. For the record, I echo Roy's thoughts on wonderful characters in a great story. But I, too, cannot get past the wordiness.

Don't you wanna curve away?

2011-05-20T17:03:00.000-04:00

Off to Palm Springs for Kayti and Carrie's "every odd year" getaway!

This year's agenda?
1. Pool
2. Pool
3. Pool

So... a slightly less aggressive trip than our past Jamaica, Europe, or Vegas to say the least. Hoping for a very productive week of reading though!

UPDATE: #15 Paint on Canvas

2011-05-20T16:50:00.000-04:00

I presented my work from the semester in front of my painting class this week as a final assignment. So I thought it only appropriate to showcase them here as well - because, faithful blog readers, you deserve to see the good, the bad, and the ugly :)

First, my color chart... which I am quite proud of...

Nextly, my abstract... which I also like but did very early in the semester so want to re-do now that I have some extra tricks in my arsenal.

Annnnnd... my still life. Let's just say it is probably not done, but I am DONE with IT...

This is my landscape, which I did from a picture I took in Tahoe about ten years ago. Pretty crazy, right?

And lastly, my first attempt at a portrait. I did this one from a photo I found of a Salvador de Bahia, Brazil woman - one of the gorgeous black women in the white dresses and colorful head dresses that sell street food in Salvador. I need to make her skin tone brighter so she doesn't recede into the background so much.

A Napa Birthday for Nicku

2011-05-15T21:47:00.001-04:00

I've said before in this blog that one of the sweetest blessings of this last year is my heart group. Those eight women have been a source of encouragement, support, prayer, commitment, growth and LOTS of laughs.

So when one of us turns 30... it's time to break out the heels and good pearls! Nicku planned a BEAUTIFUL birthday celebration on the Napa Wine Train last night with family and friends both local and visiting from out of town!

The birthday girl is someone who is always quick to respond and up for anything. She is my res-walking, bachelor-watching, puppy-sharing, soul-disclosing friend. She is willing, introspective, social, enthusiastic, supportive... and girl has got some TASTE!

Wishing you love, friendship, and blessings unimaginable in your 30s, Nicku... so glad you are in my life!

Hiking Season is BACK

2011-05-15T21:13:00.000-04:00

And in the words of Jenn Kleist, "We're going to kick that mountain in the FACE!"

My light blue Camelpack has been my trusty solo-hiking companion for over four years now. I keep some basic safety stuff in there like a compass (along with the directions on how the use it since I have no clue whatsoever), a whistle (to ummm... scare away animals?? make known my wilderness location to rescuers??), some mostly-blister-fighting-first aid items, gum, and a lighter. I used to carry a dinky little swiss army knife but after seeing 127 hours, I'm convinced I need something much more heavy duty in the event I need to cut off my arm. (Seriously. I could have to cut off my arm sometime.)

My Merrells are a little snug but I don't think I'd like them bigger either. I usually download some Sarah and Vinnie podcasts, peruse www.bahiker.com for a game plan on what hike to take (I HIGHLY RECOMMEND that site!), load up on almonds/snap peas/Luna bars, fill up my hydration pack (which is leaking/sweating by the way... I guess I need to visit REI for a new one), soak myself in sunscreen, and GO.

I did two different Las Trampas Regional Wilderness hikes recently - I started both in the main staging area off Bolinger Canyon and went right through the cattle gate up to the Las Trampas Ridge trail to the peak for the first hike. For the second, I went to the left and followed the Elderberry Trail up to the Rocky Ridge Trail and back down through the Cuesta Trail. There are some great elevation-change butt burners on both but more treacherous is the INSANE wind coming off the Bay for the mile or so you tightrope walk along the Rocky Ridge that has views of Mt. Diablo on one side and the Bay on the other. Of course, I'll take some wind over the 100+ enormous grazing COWS I had to navigate through on the Cuesta Trail. Sometimes I could walk around them but if they were in a tree grove on a narrow trail, suffice it to say I was like Vicki from Parent Trap banging sticks together to "scare the mountain lions."

This weekend, I joined Jenn Kleist and Rachel Higuera in their first hike of the season at another BA Hiker-recommended hike at Mt. Diablo State Park. We started on the Ygnacio Valley/Clayton side of the mountain early on Saturday morning.

It was definitely chilly, but we were glad to beat the trail-ruining rain last night! We started at a neighborhood trailhead to avoid paying state park entrance fees and did a 5-ish mile modified loop along Donner Canyon and Cardinet Oaks trails. There was a 550 ft to 1700 ft elevation change to add some challenge, but we made awesome time and felt amazingly invigorated. Cheesily enough, we even appreciated some of BA Hiker's info about the foliage and geology along the trail.

When I hike around here, I am further reminded how special of a place California is. It's unbelievable to me that I live within 10 minutes of some amazing state parks with full trail systems that are surprisingly well kept and used. The views from summits don't disappoint... and the friendliness of the hiking community certainly doesn't either. So get your butts moving, people! Not all of you are lucky enough to live where I live, but I challenge you to find the trails in your area and kick them in the FACE!

Yeah, Everybody Gotta Get Away Sometime...

2011-05-15T03:15:00.002-04:00

It ain't Hill Country, but a trip to Houston still calls for some Pat Green or Robert Earl Keen on the ipod.

As the countdown to starting school begins, I have managed to sneak in a few trips on the calendar including visiting Rachel a few weekends ago. I love me some Texas but I am really Austin-biased. So needless to say, Houston challenged my high esteem just a bit ;)

No really, all jokes aside, I love visiting anywhere new - especially if it means seeing good friends and living in their world for a few days. Rachel lives in a beautiful apartment complex with a ZEN POOL (!!!) in the middle of it that we took full advantage of during the days I was there. I definitely went at the right time of year because any later than April/May would have been death heat for this temperate-loving Northern Californian.

Serendipitously, I came on a weekend Rachel and her friends were signed up for a) a champagne brunch and Royal Wedding viewing party at a cute local restaurant and b) the "Crawl for Cancer" bar crawl. There were teams of about 10-12 people who all got assigned different colored shirts. Some teams just wore the shirts, others went "80s", and our team was a VERY creative "where's waldo?" theme. I'll say no more.

It goes without saying that Texans can and do eat like no other. Anyone who visits Texas would be remiss not to make SURE to get some good TexMex and BBQ and we managed to squeeze in both despite burning zero calories the entire time since Houstonians drive EVERY. WHERE. TexMex after the bar crawl was unreal - queso and all, David McWilliams - but Goode's Co. BBQ took the stinkin' cake. You basically chose whatever meat you want (brisket, duh) and it comes with two "vegetable" sides. Apparently Texas understands how to eat, but doesn't grasp what a vegetable is because my side options were - no joke - jambalaya, two kinds of baked beans, potato salad, or macaroni salad. Am I missing something?

Rachel lives directly across the street from Joel Osteen's church, so once we figured out he was actually scheduled to speak that Sunday, it was a no-brainer that we were going. I would be lying if I said my hands weren't flailing around in the air to the awesome music and shouting some hallelujahs and amens and God is good all the times'. And Joel and his wife Victoria most certainly were in the Lord's house that Sunday... prosperity, positivity, encouragement message and all. I'll keep my impressions about it all off the written word on this one, but Jen said it best when I was telling her about it: "I mean, I'm not saying there's anything WRONG with being a televangelist or anything... but that doesn't make it not WEIRD." Amen, hallelujah.

Great weekend with Rach and getting to know Holly. Rachel knows southern hospitality... so now I just need to get her to personally sail that ship right into the San Francisco Bay.

Hosanna!

2011-04-18T14:10:00.002-04:00

As Semana Santa has rolled around for another year, I am reminded of John Piper's devotional on the word Hosanna. Jesus as the "new Hosanna" and causing the word to evolve from "plea to praise; from cry to confidence" is a truth to celebrate this Easter.

Hosanna - Palm Sunday
By John Piper

I know one of the concerns of the children's music ministry is that the children understand what they are singing and that they mean it. And I share that concern for our people. In a moment the choir will sing a song called, "Hosanna, Hosanna!" And after that we all will sing a song which begins: "Hosanna in the highest!" So I want to give a little lesson in Greek and Hebrew, to make sure we all know what the New Testament means when it says in three different places, "Hosanna to the Son of David!" (Matthew 21:9, 15); or, "Hosanna in the highest!" (Mark 11:9, 10); or simply, "Hosanna!" (John 12:13).

A Lesson in Greek and Hebrew

You all know that the New Testament was first written in Greek, and the Old Testament was first written in Hebrew. Wherever the word "hosanna" occurs in the New Testament, do you know what the Greek word is? Right! It's "hosanna." All the English translators did was use English letters (h-o-s-a-n-n-a) to make the sound of a Greek word.

But if you look in a Greek dictionary to find what it means, you know what you find? You find that it is really not originally a Greek word after all. The men who wrote the New Testament in Greek did the same thing to a Hebrew word that our English translators did to the Greek word: they just used Greek letters to make the sound of a Hebrew phrase. I know this sounds sort of complicated. But it's really not. Our English word "hosanna" comes from a Greek word "hosanna" which comes from a Hebrew phrase hoshiya na.

And that Hebrew phrase is found one solitary place in the whole Old Testament, Psalm 118:25, where it means, "Save, please!" It is a cry to God for help. Like when somebody pushes you off the diving board before you can swim and you come up hollering: "Help, save me . . . Hoshiya na!"

A Shift in Meaning

But something happened to that phrase, hoshiya na. The meaning changed over the years. In the psalm it was immediately followed by the exclamation: "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" The cry for help, hoshiya na, was answered almost before it came out of the psalmist's mouth. And over the centuries the phrase hoshiya na stopped being a cry for help in the ordinary language of the Jews. Instead it became a shout of hope and exultation. It used to mean, "Save, please!" But gradually, it came to mean, "Salvation! Salvation! Salvation has come!" It used to be what you would say when you fell off the diving board. But it came to be what you would say when you see the lifeguard coming to save you! It is the bubbling over of a heart that sees hope and joy and salvation on the way and can't keep it in.

So "Hosanna!" means, "Hooray for salvation! It's coming! It's here! Salvation! Salvation!"

And "Hosanna to the Son of David!" means, "The Son of David is our salvation! Hooray for the king! Salvation belongs to the king!"

And "Hosanna in the highest!" means, "Let all the angels in heaven join the song of praise. Salvation! Salvation! Let the highest heaven sing the song!"

Two Kinds of Hosannas

Picture a Super Bowl game, and (believe it or not) the Vikings are three points ahead of the Pittsburgh Steelers. The Steelers are on their own 35 and have no more time outs. There are two seconds remaining on the clock. The Vikings' fans are going wild. The Steelers line up, fake a pass to the receivers on the left sideline, and run a wide sweep around the right end, and the quarterback breaks into the open and heads down the right sideline—40 - 45 - 50 - 45. The only hope for the Vikings is Willie Teal, the safety, cutting a diagonal across the field. And out of the Vikings' grandstand come two kinds of hosannas, the old kind and the new kind. One part of the crowd is yelling: "Catch him! Catch him, Willie!" (That's the old hosanna.) The other part of the crowd is yelling, "You got him! You got him, Willie!" (That's the new hosanna.) The word moved from plea to praise; from cry to confidence.

So when we sing "Hosanna" now, let's make it very personal. Let's make it our praise and our confidence. The Son of David has come. He has saved us from guilt and fear and hopelessness. Salvation! Salvation belongs to our God and to the Son! Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest!

Innocents Abroad Too

2011-04-07T18:27:00.000-04:00

Dr. Michael Pearson is a Professor of Creative Writing for the MFA program at Old Dominion University and sailed on Semester at Sea in 2002 and 2006. I wasn't on either of his voyages, nor have I personally met him, but obviously I couldn't pass up a book with a title like Innocents Abroad Too: Journeys Around the World on Semester at Sea :)

I wrote Dr. Pearson the following note, which will serve as my review and hopefully encourage the Semester at Sea community to support his work:

Dear Dr. Pearson,

I just completed reading Innocents Abroad Too and felt compelled to write you. I am a SAS alum from the Spring 2004 voyage, so I could relate to many of your thoughts, feelings, and experiences from encountering conversations on American involvement in Iraq (Spring 04 marked the one year anniversary of invasion) to "previously svelte young women" turning into sumo wrestlers thanks to the unending food on board (a fate I myself encountered). I, too, followed yellow flagged guides through through Tiananmen Square and bought a still-sometimes-functioning Mao watch, learned pedestrian tips for Saigon, believe firmly that nothing can prepare someone for India, and left my valuables on board in Salvador. I appreciated your ability to verbalize feelings of heart break but still needing to keep "on path" in dealing with India's street kids, how somewhere like Burma necessitates more truth and fearlessness, and strategies on how to shut Fidel the hell up. Of course I identify as a fellow global adventurer, Dr. Pearson, but I would be remiss not to say what a beautiful read your book is. It moves, it has self-depricating moments, it's not as stuffy and self-righteous as so many travel memoirs can be. My only complaint is feeling protective over my own SAS voyage experience that seems to be shared by all of us no matter what voyage we sailed. A sweet problem to share.

Carrie

30 before 30: #10 Eat dinner at Chez Panisse

2011-03-18T16:50:00.000-04:00

My earliest memory of a famous restaurant and chef is thanks to a beautiful children's book called "Fanny at Chez Panisse" that explores Alice Water's world from kitchen to food through the eyes of a little girl. It is one of my most beloved books from childhood - so it makes total sense that an adult foodie would have eating dinner at Chez Panisse on her bucket list.

Since I moved home in 2009, I have rolled up all the loose change we accumulated in our piggy bank (which is actually a cow bank but who's mooing?) and saved the cash for an occasion to celebrate. Acceptance into UCSF was just that occasion, so celebrate we did :)

When we walked into this little Berkeley house-restaurant, we were hit with the coziness of the dining room that sits adjacent to the gorgeous open kitchen. What I wouldn't do to stand and watch that kitchen for a service. From the fresh asparagus resting upright in a jar of water to the chickens rotating over open flame to a glimpse of Alice herself, I was in heaven.

We started with Sorelle Bronca Prosecco and ripe green olives (a rarity - apparently one of my mom's favorite things that she has only been able to find at Diablo Foods). The first course was dungeness crab toast with lemon mayonnaise and a little Gem salad. Really light and fresh - I desperately want to recreate the herb vinaigrette. We were also very close to stealing the cute Chez Panisse-etched water carafe before the braised pork belly with green lentils (my favorite course of the night) were served.

The main third course was spit-roasted Bill Niman chicken with herb butter and sherry-vinegar sauce; spring vegetable and black trumpet ragout and at that point we all had made the switch to the Leonetti Sangiovese we brought with us. I am extremely skeptical of a Sangiovese from Walla Walla, Washington (or any wine from Washington that matter) but I stand wildly corrected since this was truly delicious and a perfect pairing for the meal. A Pink Lady apple and sour cherry jalousie tart with kirsch ice cream was served for dessert and came with a "Congratulations" sign on my plate (nice touch Chez Panisse!). Normally a prix fixe meal is not my favorite - why go to a renown restaurant only to have the entire table experience the exact same food? But actually, that's exactly why prix fixe is genius for a meal like this. We all experienced the exact same food at the exact same time. We considered it, discussed it, and enjoyed it. There was no stress over what to order or regret in your choice once it was made. The whole experience was simple. The Art of Simple Food, if you will.

Harvesting with Joy

2011-02-25T17:54:00.003-05:00

UCSF College of Nursing

February 23, 2011

Dear Carrie Shaffer:

I am pleased to inform you that you have been admitted to the Masters Entry Program in Nursing (MEPN) at the University of California San Francisco beginning Summer 2011. We welcome you and wish you success in your studies.

(Logistics, Logistics)

Congratulations on your acceptance and welcome to the UCSF community. We are confident you will find your experience with us academically rewarding.

~ ~ ~

Sometimes during sporting events that aren't going so well for the home team, the announcers will say something to the effect of "this crowd is just waiting to erupt -- this stadium is waiting to explode with triumph." Well that is how these last five months have felt. Constantly on the cusp... expectant... just waiting to erupt. Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy. Like the crowd that explodes in triumph when the game winning touchdown, home run, or goal is scored, every cell in my body elevated to the heavenly realms in pure exultation when I read "admitted."

And I know well that all glory, honor, power is Yours, Lord.

"Not-me" Me

2011-02-20T01:39:00.002-05:00

I met with a friend this week to catch up.

I've been treading water, close to the other shore but not able to make a sprint to it yet. Just treading for now.

Doing what I should be doing. Repeat.

Doing what I should be doing. Repeat.

My friend told me I seem to be living by the spirit. Not based on me telling him I am doing what I should be doing, but in response to me talking about waiting and matchmaking (or not) and going off the grid.

Anyway, he had a point. And - (deep breath for run-on fragmented thoughtstream) - I wonder if the stuff I do or think that doesn't feel characteristically "me" *is* what it means to be living by the spirit. Like is that "not-me" me actually the spirit and I am being supernaturally motivated? Can it be so subtle and subconscious? Can it be concurrent with the countless little and big parts of my life I DON'T surrender?

What I'm trying to say is... can someone be a wretch and a saint at the same time?

What I'm also trying to say is... I think my friend might be right about this presence. Getting here has been costly, but living this way is effortless.

30 before 30: #15 Paint on Canvas

2011-02-06T13:16:00.004-05:00

The sea of science-heavy courses I waded through in the last two years has incited my neural cortex to tap into networks it has never used before. It has been an amazing experiment because somehow, someway I defied my english lit and political theory-trained brain and became a scientist. And while this is all very surprising and exciting, it also can be... extremely boring.

In my school electives, I never once took an art class. I remember taking a clay class and a drawing class at the Lafayette Community Center but I believe I was all of 6-8 years old at the time. This personal history is probably fine and understandable since the bulk of my creative energy has always been elevated in my writing and I showed no particular aptitude for art. But now I'm an adult who never took an art class.

Enter Beginning Painting.

Despite being enrolled in the most time consuming class known to the medical field this semester (Organic Chemistry), on Monday afternoons you will find me in Berkeley City College's fifth floor art studio alongside a fantastic conglomerate of overweight scraggly gray haired hippies, fresh out of high school dark lipsticked hipsters, buttoned up eyeglassed asians, and a few oakland-raised black athletes who need an easy A to keep their scholarships (all of this would be racist if it weren't true). Between the demonstration on how to make paint from dandelions you grow in your back yard to artsy fartsy videos that describe process to spending a few hours at Blick Art wandering around with my supply list to having the actual space and time to just TRY, I am profoundly stimulated.

Stimulated, yes. Good at it? Absolutely not. I'm a god-awful painter. What a glorious place to be when there is no real consequence to failure.

International Film Showcase at the Orinda Theatre

2011-02-05T15:59:00.004-05:00

Although I am deeply envious of the people who are committed to reading the Sunday Times week after week, I have never been much of a newspaper person. As such, I am sure I regularly miss out on interesting tidbits or local events. So one advantage to living with newsie parents is having a mom who literally clips out articles and ads she thinks I should see. Last week, it was this article from the Contra Costa Times: "Orinda film buffs bring passion for Foreign Cinema home" which also featured the following picture of none other than my beloved friend Dori's dad, Efi Lubliner...

Efi is a long time film buff who also screens films for festivals and laments the fact that the Bay Area might never see some of the films he is exposed to due mostly to underfunding for a more widespread release. And so, the Lamorinda Film and Entertainment Foundation (www.ifef.org) brought the Norwegian Film called "Max Manus" to the historical Orinda Theatre for a limited engagement and intends to follow up with a new foreign film each month.

This weekend, your average theatre is showing visual vomit like Sanctum, The Roommate, The Rite, and No Strings Attached. If you share my disdain of these money and time wasters, you ought to go out and support a beautiful little local theatre and the efforts of a handful of your neighbors who are trying to contribute something special to our community. "Max Manus" screenings have been extended to February 10th and the next film is called "Illegal" and begins screening on February 25th.

30 before 30: #28 Consistently identify a constellation other than the Big Dipper

2011-01-05T02:03:00.003-05:00

Well... If three times is "consistent" then I can check this one off the list.

I understand that Orion is not the most difficult or obscure of the constellations to identify, but on December 21, 2010 I was introduced to each individual star thanks to Jedd Goble's expertise.

Roy summoned us away from the Catan game to the front of the house were the lunar eclipse was in its very early stages. Jedd had received a telescope for one of his boyhood Christmases and managed to find it, dust it off, and set it up in time for us to see each stage of the eclipse... AND try to fulfill one of my 30 before 30s while we were at it.

I found Orion in Tahoe when it stopped snowing for a moment last week. And again tonight when my mom and I were taking out the trash. She was very disinterested and unimpressed. Bah.

So Orion it is! I also will need to find a summer constellation to learn, I think... so that I can always consistently identify a constellation other than the big dipper no matter what the season. Is it too early to schedule a lesson, Jedd?

2010

2010-12-31T19:06:00.004-05:00

Soundtrack of 2010: Needtobreathe The Heat and Outsiders

Most ridiculous TV show I watched that isn't Big Brother: Real Housewives of Beverly Hills

Best new-to-me discovery: Lafayette Library and Sideboard Cafe in Danville

Place I wish I could un-discover: Sacks in Berkeley

Best way of redeeming time: Audiobooks during my commute

Worst way of wasting time: Settlers of Catan iPhone app

Most effective personal enrichment initiative: 30 before 30 list

Best thing I cooked for the first time: Boeuf Bourginon

Worst thing I cooked for the last time: Eggplant dip

Food high: Rosemary Cashews

Food low: Meat sweats in Argentina

Best reason to be in the Bay Area this year: Giants postseason and World Series!

Most unexpected joy: A little room above a Tango studio in San Telmo

Recommendation Godsends: Ben Getto and Rachel Goble Carey

Best rediscovery: Speaking Spanish

Strongest spiritual message: God's timing is better than mine. By alot.

Random act of cross-generational culture: Taking Hannie to Annie at Regional Center but failing to keep her awake for the second half

Stupidest money expenditure: Upgrading to Business class from BA to DC

Biggest failure: Big fat UIC rejection

Greatest blessing: Heart group

Day that has prompted future blacklisting from calendars for thieving the world of Praise Goh: October 25th

Top music moment: Camaron Ochs live at Swirl

Favorite Julie blonde moment: Asking if Chris Tomlin was singing at Geoff's funeral.

Grape of the year: Old vine zin

Most disgusting and connecting human moment: Thai woman and I exchanging looks of utter disgust from a man spitting loudly next to us in the street

Cutest thing that happened at all: Keira

Craziest and most wonderful thing that happened to a friend: Julie Fox getting Zeke

Best after midnight moment: post-Disneyland McDonalds run with Taylor and Jacob

Not my finest moment: Outing a friend who isn't "out" yet

Best book I read all year: The Help by Kathryn Stockett

Best place to invite myself over to: Roy and D'Aun Goble's home

Most embarrassing moment: Going ass over head in the very front of a room of 70 women on the first day of bible study when my chair broke

Best "What's in her bag": Pure Illumination Lipgloss

Most despised Catan opponent: Kevin Carey

Best part of my daily routine: Sarah and Vinnie at Alice 97.3

Smartest realization: I am too old for shots

Even more fun after all these years: Disneyland

Favorite past time: Trying to remember 1990s sunday school or camp songs

Things I'll continue to stand by: Halloween is dumb and I am too pretty to do math

Things I have to reconsider my original stance on: Dogs and Chemistry

Best made-for-TV moment: Spotting Patrick in the Sunday street fair crowd from my corner table cafe perch in Buenos Aires

Best Pandora Station: Ace of Base

"ADVENTURE IS OUT THERE!" moment: Helicopter tour with Mom and Dad on Kauai

Most awesome butt buddy: Jen Weaver

Still feels good: Tahoe

Lesson learned about olive farming: Planting is a lot of work and picking isn't so bad!

Biggest community travesty: Yellow Wood closing its doors

Best thing to say to someone before they testify in court: "I will give you a thousand dollars if you do your whole testimony with an accent."

News story I actually followed: Johannes Meserle trial and verdict

Most important human moment: With Brennan in the hotel at Paul's wedding

There's a first time for everything: Gutting a sturgeon for dinner

Something that could take many categories to describe: Losing Geoff to cancer

Most uncomfortable place I felt comfortable: Soi Cowboy red light district in Bangkok

Still my favorite person to discuss "the times" with: Sweeting

Irresponsible but awesome Aunt Carrie moment: Teaching 13 year old Taylor how to drive

Favorite thing to encourage Kyle to say: I right, you wrong!

Favorite thing to encourage Nathan to say: Pick, roll, flick.

How I will remember 2010: A year characterized by the unimaginable lows of cancer, death, rejection, sacrifice, and refreshed trauma. A year redeemed in part by the simplest joys, overwhelming grace, and a continued capacity for hope.

But things never happen the same way twice...

2010-12-15T13:36:00.003-05:00

In honor of Dawn Treader's release, I am reposting my favorite Aslan-Lucy exchange of the entire Chronicles that so embodies the Lord's sweetness and tenderness in putting up with me:

"Welcome, child" he said.
"Aslan," said Lucy, "you're bigger."
"That is because you are older, little one," answered he.
"Not because you are?"
"I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger."
For a time she was so happy that she did not want to speak. But Aslan spoke.
"Lucy," he said, "we must not lie here for long. You have work in hand, and much time has been lost today."
"Yes, wasn't it a shame?" said Lucy. "I saw you all right. They wouldn't believe me. They're all so -"
From somewhere deep inside Aslan's body there came the faintest suggestion of a growl.
"I'm sorry," said Lucy, who understood some of his moods. "I didn't mean to start slanging the others. But it wasn't my fault anyway, was it?"
The Lion looked straight into her eyes.
"Oh, Aslan," said Lucy. "You don't mean it was? How could I - I couldn't have left the others and come up to you alone, how could I? Don't look at me like that... oh well, I suppose I could. Yes, and it wouldn't have been alone, I know, not if I was with you. But what would have been the good?"
Aslan said nothing.
"You mean," said Lucy rather faintly, "that it would have turned out all right - somehow? But how? Please, Aslan! Am I not to know?"
"To know what would have happened, child?" said Aslan. "No. Nobody is ever told that."
"Oh dear," said Lucy.
"But anyone can find out what will happen," said Aslan. "If you go back to the others now, and wake them up; and tell them you have seen me again; and that you must all get up at once and follow me - what will happen? There is only one way of finding out."
"Do you mean that is what you want me to do?" gasped Lucy.
"Yes, little one," said Aslan.
"Will the others see you too?" asked Lucy.
"Certainly not at first," said Aslan. "Later on, it depends."
"But they won't believe me!" said Lucy.
"It doesn't matter," said Aslan.
"Oh dear, oh dear," said Lucy. "And I was so pleased at finding you again. And I thought you'd let me stay. And I thought you'd come roaring in and frighten all the enemies away - like last time. And now everything is going to be horrid."
"It is hard for you, little one," said Aslan. "But things never happen the same way twice. It has been hard for us all in Narnia before now."
Lucy buried her head in his mane to hide from his face. But there must have been magic in his mane. She could feel lion-strength going into her. Quite suddenly she sat up.
"I'm sorry, Aslan," she said. "I'm ready now."

30 before 30: #27 Host a tea

2010-12-12T01:11:00.008-05:00

~A Christmas Tea for Friends~

On Saturday, December 11, 2010

from 2-4 pm at the Shaffer Residence

~The Table~

Christmas plaid placemats
Winter green setting plates
Grandma Dorothy's fine china
Grandma Dorothy's silver flatware
Grandma Dorothy's silver teapots
Cranberry red napkins in silver rings set with candy canes
Kisses, Holiday mix, and Peppermint Candy Jars
Strawberry Preserve party favors

~The Menu~

Orange Cranberry Scones (served with lemon curd or honey)
Gingerbread Scones (served with clotted cream)
Egg Salad Tea Sandwiches
Shrimp Ceviche Cucumber Cups
Strawberry Macaroons
Chocolate Peppermint Cheesecake Bars
English Breakfast Tea
Cinnamon Spice Tea

~The Friends~

Renee Travers
Jen Weaver
Rachael Dailey

Jenn Kleist
Nicku Bastani
Jessica Gracewski

Farewell to Hogwarts

2010-12-01T13:30:00.003-05:00

When I heard the final chapters of the Harry Potter movies would be released starting this November, I realized I was far behind the Harry Potter reading curve. I had read The Sorcerer's Stone right around when it came out my Freshman year of high school and everyone was in a total frenzy over it. I eventually got to Chamber of Secrets a few years later but was not by any means amongst those who were reading it in the hallways between class. I'm sure I read Prisoner of Azkaban at some point during college. But I stopped there. And stopped watching the movies, too.

So I found myself four long books away from being caught up and more pressing science-heavy textbooks to read for class. But my impacted schedule required a lot of driving to and from Oakland - often through Caldecott traffic, I should add - and my library card was hardly getting worn out with overuse. So began my triumphant return to the deliciousness of children's audiobooks. I grew up listening to Adventures in Odyssey, Tales of King Arthur, and Sherlock Holmes tapes before bed. And I was transported to that four poster bed littered with stuffed animals on all sides each time I listened to Jim Dale bring the Harry Potter characters alive with wonderful attention to detail. Jim Dale's Voldemort hisses just at the right time... his Dumbledore sings of ancient wisdom... his Hermione with just the right touch of annoying self importance.

I listened to my last of the Deathly Hallows cds last night in the car between class and lab. And I couldn't help but get a little emotional about it all. Harry Potter has been adored and admonished, declared brilliant and completely stupid. From opening the first book at 13 years old to turning the last page at 26, I'm sure I have felt that spectrum of criticism myself. But today I am truly sad to say goodbye to Harry, Hermione, and Ron - and to their world of Hogwarts and Diagon Alley and 12 Grimmauld Place. What wonderful places these books have allowed my imagination to go!

"Tell me one last thing," said Harry. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"
"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

Orange October

2010-10-17T15:34:00.005-04:00

I was there when they clinched the division against the Padres.

I was there when Lincecum threw 14 Ks in Game 1 against the Braves.

I covered my face and held my breath and cheered and boo'd and worried and yelled and danced my way through watching the win in Game 1 over the Phillies.

So if this is what torture feels like, I'll have more please!

Argentina: Two Months Later

2010-10-16T14:43:00.006-04:00

"This happens with many events and anecdotes in my life: it seems I have lived them, but when I write them down in the clear light of logic, they seem unlikely. That really doesn't disturb me, however. What does it matter if these events happened or if I imagined them? Life is, after all, a dream." (From "My Invented Country" by Isabel Allende)

I arrived in Buenos Aires alone and without a laptop, so my attention to writing about it suffered miserably as a result. It all happened as beautifully as it did in Chile, however, and all of those happenings are tucked neatly away in memory.

Meg lives in BA and has weaseled her way into the nicest group of friends - gorgeous, wealthy friends I should add - who showed me what a good night out in BA looks like. Fernet and all.

Patrick showed up a few days after I arrived and thanks to our accustomed ways of instant communication being cut off, we had to hope we would cross at just the right window of time on a corner in San Telmo during the street fair. I was sipping an espresso when I saw him with his hands in his pockets and shoulders shrugged up from cold in the Sunday crowd of antique shoppers. When I yelled out to him, everyone turned their heads to witness our reuniting embrace.

The three of us managed to eat enough for six in the time we were together - Meg knew Palermo restaurants like the back of her hand. I am now convinced there is such a thing as death by lomo, and suffered meat sweats thanks to my previous 40 days of vegetarianism.

I saw beautiful things - things that made me feel life so fully that it had to spill out into my eyes. Trained tango dancers on the street and groups of locals following alongside. The puente de la mujer. The floralis generica. The thinker statue. And death never looking more lovely than in the Recoleta cemetery.

I woke up each morning to tango music drifting up through my floor from the studio below and talked to Leti for hours over coffee as dancers stretched around us before their class began. In my desperation to find an soda bottle like the ones they used in old tango salons, I ended up in a winsome conversation with two old men in a dusty antique shop where I only understood every third word but all the good natured gestures they offered.

Argentina has felt like an unlikely and imagined dream in the light of what I came back to that characterized the two months since. But its continued proof that O'Henry had it right when he said "that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating." Fortunately, they do not predominate my life too often.

To Mom, on my first night in Argentina

2010-10-16T14:25:00.005-04:00

Just got to Buenos Aires an hour or so ago. I loved Chile - mostly for the Chileans but also for Valparaiso which is the most enchanting city I've ever been to since Capri off the Amalfi Coast in Italy.

More on Chile some other time but for now, I have only been in BA for about an hour and already have had an adventure. The bed and breakfast I found to stay at through a series of connections sent a driver to the airport for me. Always a relief to have that prearranged because foreign taxi drivers are very aggressive with fresh-out-of-customs tourists. Anyway, so Andres whisked me out of the cold and after holding my breath that I could withdraw cash from the ATM (you never know what international ATMs will or won't accept) we made the drive to a little neighborhood of BA called San Telmo.

He pulled up to a street where there was literally nothing that remotely resembled a bed and breakfast. It's like a NYC side street where you would have to ring the bell to get into any building at all and very little signs of life other than the main drag nearby. So we get my bags out of the van and walk up to 950 Carlos Calvado street where there is one of many large steel doors and a tiny bell to ring. So he rings... We wait... He rings again... It's windy and cold and dark and damp... And then a little key shake and the door swings open to a short Argentinian woman who looks about 70 and maybe weighs 125lbs and doesn't hesitate to grab my huge monster bag and exclaim "bienvenidos carrie" (w rolled r's of course). And she beckons me inside and the door slams behind me and I look up as I feel a whoosh of sweaty warmth against my face. I am in a high ceilinged bright hallway that angles up to a dance floor where there are no fewer than 15 sweaty dark Argentinian men dancing gracefully to intense loud music in the middle of a tango class. Leti guides me through the floor luggage and all, and I "permisso" my way through the dancers as she grabs a skeleton key from the rack, and marches me to the back where there is an airy checker floored courtyard and up the stairs to my end of the hallway room number 5 that has a balcony overlooking it.

The room is plain and clean and perfect. There is a quaint reading salon next to it and Leti lives on the top floor. I told her in Spanish (for that is all she speaks) that I would refrain from yelling and making loud noises throughout the night on account that we are now neighbors. She laughed heartily and said I had better not! There is no TV and sometimes the Internet works and sometimes it doesn't and I would expect nothing less.

I dropped my stuff and came back downstairs - a new class going on, this time co-ed. With women in high heeled tango shoes. Leti shouts a dinner recommendation to me and says it is muy famoso. Been open since 1842. And I am here now... At a tippy corner table with a glass of cab sav since they are out of malbec. I told the camarero that it tastes the same after a glass anyway, so cab sav would be fine and he should not let anyone act like they can actually tell the difference. He laughed and I stopped being the poorly-spoken gringa in the corner and started being someone who he might enjoy just a little bit even if I can't understand his Spanish very well and keep asking him to repeat himself. The place is packed. It's about 10pm here - time for dinner. I ordered the Argentinian version of antipasti, since that's what everyone else has on their table despite the ten page menu.

I know you didn't approve of this trip, mom. But you should know this is what makes me feel the most alive.

Pastel de Choclo

2010-08-10T12:07:00.006-04:00

"Our typical cuisine is simple because earth and sea are generous; there is no fruit or seafood more delicious than ours - that I can assure you. The more difficult it is to put food on the table, the more elaborate and spicy it becomes, witness the examples of India and Mexico, where there are three hundred ways to cook rice. We have one, and that seems more than sufficient to us." (From "My Invented Country" by Isabel Allende)

Chile is not known for its culinary triumphs. Thirty cents will buy you a freshly fried corn patty called a sopaipilla that you can top with your share of spicy mustard and even spicier salsa. For a little more, you might run into an empanada shop that delivers what you think it will, but tastes only half as good as you are expecting. And for about a dollar, you can hit the late night bar crowd's jackpot called a completo - which is just a glorified hot dog dressed in enough mayonnaise to cause a coronary. And although the fruit and vegetable markets are divine and it seems like there are all the makings for deliciousness to abound, something simply misses the mark. I am not alone in this opinion - my most sophisticated foodie friend to date who lives in Santiago remains totally discouraged by Chilean cuisine.

And so, expectations low and criticism quelled, I ventured into the nearest lonely planet option once my cold and walking threshold reached its breaking point. Un Cristal por supesto, y... ummm uhhh... un momento porfa. Chilean food, Carrie, keep going for traditional chilean food. My eyes scanned over everything until I caught something I recognized - Pastel de Choclo! Yes, I'll try the pastel de choclo. Less than five minutes later, this is what was placed in front of me:

It was so hot, the steam could not stop pouring out of it. But once I coaxed it down to a manageable temperature, it was sweet corn and onions and succulent pieces of chicken and... an olive! what? how could an olive be so harmonious with these flavors?... and a hard boiled egg?? so unexpected. It was soulful and crusty and soft and balanced. This is a terrible analogy, but do you remember those candles you bought as a tween that promised to melt down and reveal little treasures? It was like that in a way. Just layer after layer of flavor and warmth and perfection. I felt like Rachael Ray on $40 a day (another bad example but you catch my drift) discovering the best kept cheap secret in the land. In one well ordered serendipitous meal, Chile proved it is not a total international culinary loss. Call me a glutton if you must, but I can think of worse things than death by pastel de choclo.

Jorge

2010-08-10T12:05:00.006-04:00

"The first thing you can say about Chileans is that we are friendly and hospitable; at the first hint we throw open our arms and the doors of our homes. I've often heard foreigners say that if they ask directions, the people they approach accompany them personally, and if they seem to be lost, their informant is capable of inviting them home for dinner, even offering a bed if they're in difficulty." (From "My Invented Country" by Isabel Allende)

There is much to say of Sweeting's roommate Jorge, but I suppose it is really all best summarized by the first two hours I was in his apartment. I already spoke of my traveling woes - the lost luggage and the summer clothes in winter weather and the forced Spanish use so early on. I showed up at Sweeting and Jorge's apartment a little - a lot - battle weary. I arrived just in time for Sweeting to let me in and then duck out for one of his evening classes, leaving me shivering under the covers and fretting about my suitcase loss with a promise he'd be back in a few hours and things would be better. One hour gone: cold... no call from the airline... not getting out of bed... might as well nap. Hour two: Why won't they call? Why can't I call out of Sweeting's stupid phone? My whole vacation is going to be ruined! Hour two and three quarters: The phone rings. THE PHONE RINGS!!! Hello? Spanish. Lots of fast phone Spanish. In a panic I manage a "espere senora, por favor!! espere!" and run out to the common room in a frenzy, throwing the phone to the still unfamiliar Jorge telling him to figure this out for me!

Sweet Jorge. He patiently, calmly, cooperatively converses with his countrymen on the phone. Confirming to me nonverbally with intermittent eyebrow raises and head nods that my luggage is en route while giving verbal directions to the airline. He handles everything and that moment made every single worry wrinkle that I will be cursing myself for in 20 years to subside. I sink into the dining room chair next to Jorge's work station, pick out two cigarettes from his carton on the table, and light them simultaneously before handing him one and exhaling out a weighty mixture of stress and smoke.

Sorry to disturb your peace and quiet, Jorge, I say in Spanish. Although very willing to help, he seemed a little tentative about the sudden intrusion into what was clearly HIS space. HIS dining room table turned office desk. HIS cigarettes. HIS tranquilo. I'm taking this all in when I also realize that the Beatles are playing softly in the background. And there is a bunch of photography equipment strewn about. And there are about 15 huge pieces of funky artwork hanging around on the walls. And a Spanish-English dictionary on the shelf. And so I start asking him about everything... and the discomfort melts into engaging conversation. About his fiancee and his artwork and how the flatware on one of the canvasses represents that he needs her like he needs food. About his photography and how people have to eat spinach like Popeye in order to get strong and how he thinks that Sweeting has done quite well for himself in Chile. About the funny English/Spanish translation mistakes like "embarazada" being used by gringas to express embarrassment but actually means pregnant and the importance of differentiating between "relaciones" and "MIS relaciones."

Another hour passed before Brian got back from class, and it was obvious he was happy to see I had clearly settled right in and made myself at home. And for the two weeks I was there, it was a lot of Brian at work and Jorge and I at the table chatting. To revisit the original quote, it was two weeks of Jorge throwing open his arms and his door at the first hint of my arrival. Giving me directions. Making me dinner. Always glad to discuss Beatles or post-Beatles songbooks. Being patient with my fear of the gas heating system. Teaching me about Spanish and about Chile. Teaching me that I was in his world... and was welcome in it.

The Mechanics of Cold

2010-08-10T12:00:00.004-04:00

"We Chileans are enchanted by states of emergency... In summer we die of the heat and in winter of the cold, but no one has air conditioning or decent heating, because that would be tantamount to admitting that the climate isn't as good as they say it is." (From "My Invented Country" by Isabel Allende)

Sweeting warned me weeks ago that he could see his breath in his apartment and apologized in advance. Frankly, I only half believed him. I had been monitoring Santiago weather for weeks and as far as I was concerned it looked to be about like San Francisco weather is right now; 60 something during the day, maybe 40 something at worst by night. Well. That has turned out to be true. But what I did not take seriously enough was the fact that INSIDE the buildings would be colder than OUTSIDE the buildings. Literally the temperature drops about 10 degrees from the time I get the first door unlocked to the time I get inside and up one flight of stairs to the apartment. After an inevitable five to ten minutes of wrestling with the three locks on the door, one of which is particularly tricky, my hands are freezing, goosebumps invade my body, and I can see my breath with every sigh of frustration at my inability to figure out something as simple as how to open a door.

Inside the apartment is no refuge. We sleep with five layers of blankets and comforters and a "hot water bottle" in the form of a nalgene that is now better used as a heat source than a water source. I realize what a gringa I am every time I turn on the water faucet to wash my face, sure I will coax hot water from the red side of the handle. Alas, for a few seconds of hot water, one must cross the apartment into the laundry room, ensure the gas switch is flipped to "on", double back into the kitchen to punch the nozzle of the beast of a contraption in until it snaps on and a few flames begin to light up in the little window, then go back to the bathroom and turn the faucet on with enough gusto to incite the hot water to flow enough to please the waiting beneficiary. Then, everything back to the off positions. How are there not more gas explosions in this country?

I am sure I sound spoiled and complaining. But actually I am more fascinated than anything else. The Chileans are all so comfortable with the process and I'm near-terrified to even flip the gas switch. As I write this now, I can see my breath in the air and know it is time to get out of bed and get outside... I'll warm up out there.

Chilenos

2010-08-10T11:54:00.004-04:00

"Being so far from everything gives us Chileans an insular mentality, and the majestic beauty of the land makes us take on airs. We believe we are the center of the world - in our view, Greenwich should have been set in Santiago - and we turn our backs on Latin America, always comparing ourselves instead to Europe. We are very self-centered: the rest of the universe exists only to consume our wines and produce soccer teams we can beat." (From "My Invented Country" by Isabel Allende)

I have never traveled so far away only to find myself as comfortable with the culture as I do here in Chile. On one of the first nights I was here, I met Marie and Francisco - a girl from Milwaukee married to a boy from Santiago. Marie explained to me that there is just something about Americans and Chilenos that mixes wonderfully. I now know a number of people in Chilean-American relationships and am aware of even more.

I can't quite put my finger on what makes us so similar. Maybe it is difficult because I can't fully believe our similarities given our completely different histories. The academic in me is always looking for the affects of Pinochet's still-very-recent reign of terror over this country. Every old man with a missing leg or arm... every woman with some kind of deformity... hell, anyone I see who looks 40+... makes me wonder what they've seen; what they've felt. I will say that I notice a palpable hesitance in all Chilenos. They are more reserved, more shy, more quiet, more tranquilo than any other latin american nation I have encountered before. I myself feel incredibly hesitant to broach the subject of las desaparecidas or anything related to those years and events. It's too soon, I've decided. Too soon.

Politics aside, the similarities are endless. Movies premiere here almost immediately after they do in the States. Chilenos love flash mobs (who doesn't love a good flash mob!?) and the popularity of Glee has soared to equal if not greater heights than ours. Chilenos are quick to exchange greetings in passing, throw a few luca in the hat of someone in need on the streets, live in a society where they can trust their policemen, and frequent their Saturday morning farmers markets. We share an arrogance about our countries - that we are (or should be) the center of the universe, as Isabel Allende writes in her memoir. And even though I already digressed from the history/politics side of things and labeled them as completely different, September 11th is a date on our calendars we both mourn; for Pinochet's coup and Al Qaeda's attacks. Chilenos love to barbeque, spend long weekends at the beach with their families, and of course their reputation for winter sports precedes itself.

To travel so far and feel so at home is not something I am used to feeling in my journeys. But I think I like it.

Santiago

2010-08-10T11:44:00.003-04:00

"In Chile everything is centralized in the capital... If it doesn't happen in Santiago, it may as well not happen at all." (From "My Invented Country" by Isabel Allende)

Depending on the route of your flight from the States, you can count on it taking about 24 hours to land you a birds eye view of the Andes - snow capped and endless - before your descent into Santiago de Chile. I arrived without my bags which had not made the connecting flight in Buenos Aires, and was therefore thrown back to the Spanish 3 unit on travel vocabulary. One thing I will say that has come through loud and clear on this trip is thank GOD for Lola Danielli. That woman is an absolute saint for being so wonderfully stubborn and demanding about the three uses of "ser", five uses of "estar" and all the differences between "por" y "para" to a bunch of entitled high school brats who wouldn't try hard enough to meet her standards. Well when they lose their baggage somewhere in Latin America, the joke is on them and the few of us who stuck it out with her will have enough to draw from to explain "the plane was late, the baggage didn't make it, it's not checked through to SCL, it was on a different airline, I'm wearing sandals in the middle of winter and really need my bags, here is the address and phone number where I can be reached now please please find my bags." (And indeed they were found and arrived at 268 Merced, Santiago Centro only a few hours later much to my satisfaction and relief.)

And Santiago... I think much of Latin America can best be described as Europe-like but with grit. And I like me some grit, so it suits me quite nicely. Of course the United States has weaseled its way into some of the infrastructure here - McDonalds and Starbucks are a universal certainty now I think. But they are not so omnipresent as in other countries and are in fact difficult to find amongst the cafes, churrasco/completo shops, and of course the bookstores which are more plentiful than any other commercial venture. A country whose bookstores outnumber anything else is my kind of heaven.

Santiago is remarkably centralized for the tourist and although the metro system is fantastic, I prefer to walk through the bohemian graffitied streets of Bellavista, the curved refined Lastarria, the crazed Huerfanos, the distinctly Spanish-style Plaza de Armas. I'm surprised by the number of street dogs in such a progressive, modern city but they don't seem to bother anyone else so I am trying to withhold my judgement. I'm confused by the main drag being named "Avenida O'Higgins" instead of something more "latin" sounding, but it doesn't seem to bother anyone else so I am trying to withhold my judgement. But the parks, the plazas, the occasional cathedral and old ornate buildings make Santiago feel like somewhere people go to live.

#9 Fly First Class

2010-08-03T17:59:00.003-04:00

Ahhh the luxuries of First Class flight. Special priority check-in, luggage, security lines, and boarding - breezing past the sweaty, travel-weary, long-line-waiting, jockeying-for-boarding-position peons. Excuse me sir, could you step OFF the red carpet so these PRIORITY passengers could get through? Music to my ears.

Preflight beverage service - in a glass! A real glass! Huge seats, ample overhead storage space, coats hung up for you. A reminder to all passengers to please use the bathrooms in their ticketed cabins.

A menu detailing your many on-board dining options, a little bowl of mixed nuts while you mull them over, and of course... an open bar, which was taken full advantage of by my five-bloody-marys-in neighbor and myself, to a lesser extent.

Since when is the SFO - IAD flight so short!?

But I digress...

Oh wait, no I don't. Domestic first class flights on mediocre aircrafts are really nothing at all compared to International Business. I had experienced the unparalleled deliciousness of United's lay flat seats on a Rome-DC flight about a year and a half ago, so when the email confirming my upgrade came through, the outlook for the next 11 hours of my life improved dramatically. Comforter-style blankets, fluffy pillows, personal on-demand entertainment systems with hours and hours of movies and tv and games and map-watching. A courtesy amenity pack complete with little sockys for your cold feet, Murad lotion, toothpaste and toothbrush, an eyemask, and a pen (for your customs forms of course). I board, I eat dinner, and I push the lay flat button. A full 8 hours later, I wake up to the smell of coffee and breakfast and the announcement we will be landing in an hour. My neighbor asks me how I slept? Beautifully, I say. Never better.

Now people... I know what all of this sounds like. I realize how indulgent and ridiculous it is to pursue such creature comforts. I understand your disapproval. And to you I say... too bad :)

And to my status-loving, travel-savvy, miles-obsessed friends, I say... you know JUST what I'm talking about :). (Oh and by the way, my flight was delayed so they gave us apology gifts of $200 off domestic flights, 10% off international, or 9000 bonus miles... which would you have chosen?)

Admittedly I am still intrigued by the International First Class cabins... especially the ones that are upstairs on huge aircrafts that the peons don't even get to feast their eyes on (myself included in the peonery). First item on my 40 before 40?

Omnivore's Dilemma

2010-08-03T17:41:00.002-04:00

30 days of vegetarianism has come and gone and yet still no meat. Under no more obligation to follow through on a self-imposed challenge, the omnivore's dilemma is more relevant than ever.

As was likely apparent in my previous posts, I have above all actually enjoyed this! I ordered things on menus I never would have, I made recipes I would not typically have prioritized, and surprised myself by how little I missed meat. To be fair, I live in Northern California... land of year-round produce and lots and lots of vegetarians. Whole Foods in Oakland became a weekday lunch haven for me... and cost-wise that is probably not a very sustainable plan.

Now I am in South America for three weeks and am certainly not intending to deprive myself of any quintessential local cuisine (read: argentinian beef or empanadas de carne), but neither am I in any rush to reincorporate meat into my diet. Perhaps it will slowly creep its way back onto my plate, and my intention was never to be authoritarian about this in the first place. But for now... I like vegetarian me. So maybe there is no dilemma at all.

Beef

2010-07-18T17:34:00.003-04:00

Beef. Gorgeous grass-fed Marin Sun Farms beef from the farmer's market. Skirt steak, specifically. Brushed with olive oil, sprinkled with homemade herb salt. Thrown on a powerful little Webber in the middle of The Panhandle at Oak and Cole on a sunny San Francisco Saturday afternoon. Laying in the park like hippies.

I almost succumbed.

But my grilled portabello sandwiched between thick slices of sourdough bread sang harmonious with my in-husk corn and american eggplant, so no animals were harmed in the writing of this blog post.

#12. The Godfather Part One (and Jeannie's Eggplant Parm!)

2010-07-11T23:59:00.007-04:00

#12 on my 30 before 30 list is to watch the Godfather Trilogy, so I took advantage of a lazy Saturday night at home by renting The Godfather Part One and settling in for the 3 hour commitment. I had very few expectations of the film because I honestly didn't know anything about the story other than it was an award winning classic. I found the first 30 minutes or so confusing because the sound quality isn't quite what we have become accustomed to and the "who's who" of the story took some mapping out. But once my dad assured me for the tenth time that "yes, that REALLY IS Al Pacino," I started getting into the story and found myself absolutely loving it! I don't fancy myself a film critic by any means but I enjoyed the time-honored themes of cross-generational responsibility, tradition, and vendetta. The Godfather's simple, straightforward violence screams much louder than the gratuitous gore we see in action movies today. It's fantastically profound.

And what's more appropriate for watching The Godfather than indulging in some great italian food and wine? My friend Jeannie sent me a GREAT recipe for Eggplant Parm and I have been very eager to try it! I even decided to make my own tomato sauce! Here are a few pictures and the recipe that I will DEFINITELY keep in my arsenal for the future:

I started with some tomatoes we had from Costco but if I were to do it again I would chose farmer's market tomatoes or very ripe heirloom tomatoes from the grocery...

An hour or two later and... voila!

Jeannie's Eggplant Parm started out looking something like this (couldn't resist the gorgeous produce pic)...

And an hour or two later... voila! ;). Thanks Jeannie for this awesomeness!

Recipe for Jeannie's Eggplant Parm
Serves 8

Olive oil, for baking sheets
2 large eggs
3/4 cup plain dry breadcrumbs
3/4 cup finely grated Parmesan, plus 2 tablespoons for topping
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
Coarse salt and ground pepper
2 large eggplants (2 1/2 pounds total), peeled and sliced into 1/2-inch rounds
6 cups Chunky Tomato Sauce
1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella

Directions
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Brush 2 baking sheets with oil; set aside. In a wide, shallow bowl, whisk together eggs and 2 tablespoons water. In another bowl, combine breadcrumbs, 3/4 cup Parmesan, oregano, and basil; season with salt and pepper.

Dip eggplant slices in egg mixture, letting excess drip off, then dredge in breadcrumb mixture, coating well; place on baking sheets.

Bake until golden brown on bottom, 20 to 25 minutes. Turn slices; continue baking until browned on other side, 20 to 25 minutes more. Remove from oven; raise oven heat to 400 degrees.

Spread 2 cups sauce in a 9-by-13-inch baking dish. Arrange half the eggplant in dish; cover with 2 cups sauce, then 1/2 cup mozzarella. Repeat with remaining eggplant, sauce, and mozzarella; sprinkle with remaining 2 tablespoons Parmesan. Bake until sauce is bubbling and cheese is melted, 15 to 20 minutes. Let stand 5 minutes before serving.

#16 Go Vegetarian: Day 5

2010-07-05T19:51:00.003-04:00

I'm almost through Day 5 and my best description of what it has been like so far is... no big deal.

I'm not craving meat. I'm not having a hard time finding things to eat or recipes to make. I'm not finding it difficult to plan ahead.

I've now read through my book, "The New Becoming Vegetarian" and found it mostly unhelpful. It's a crash course in nutrition, which I took as a nursing prerequisite last fall. Coming off that disappointment, I have purchased a used copy of "Omnivores Dilemma" by Michael Pollen, a book that has been on my "to read" list for quite awhile now. I also plan to squeeze in "In Defense of Food." My expectations are that these books will be equally as valuable to me as "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver was a few years ago. "AVM" inspired me to join the Orchard Country Produce CSA Co-Op while I was in DC. (Click here to read my old post about that!)

So what AM I eating? I have gotten through two BBQs (including a July 4th party!) by choosing veggie burgers. They are delicious and I don't miss the real thing. But day to day I have been living off the homemade granola bars, whole wheat pesto pasta salad for lunch, and lots of gazpacho for dinner. Turns out that recipe make a TON of the stuff so it is admittedly getting a little tired! I am getting ahead of myself in wanting to make szechuan noodles, couscous salad, spinach pie, white arugula pizza, and vegetable frittata. I'm worried I'm not getting enough protein even with eggs and cheese and I have a goal to incorporate more legumes into my diet.

I will say I get hungry more often. I'm okay with it but it's noticeable. Nothing has changed with my bowel movements yet (TMI? haha) and I'm sure I haven't lost any weight since I haven't been in the gym as much as I need to be in order for that to happen.

As I write this on Day 5 I can honestly say I am considering making this more permanent... considering it.

30 by 30: #16. Go Vegetarian for 30 Days

2010-07-01T17:24:00.003-04:00

Today is the first day of a 30-day vegetarian challenge I am doing as part of my 30 before 30 list. It's also the first item I am tackling on that list, so today is a big personal kickoff towards those goals.

I'm feeling EXCITED for these 30 days! I decided I wanted to really try to embrace this vegetarian lifestyle and learn about it as if I was making a lifelong change. I bought a book called "The New Becoming Vegetarian" which covers many aspects of the lifestyle such as maximizing the diet for your body and how to make sure you get everything you need nutrient-wise. One of the reasons I decided start this now is because it is perhaps the best time of the year produce-wise and there are so many seasonal options at the farmers market right now. I'm most interested in challenging myself to find and try new recipes that I wouldn't normally be drawn to with my meat-loving palate.

I spent the better part of last night making gazpacho and zucchini gratin (for dinner tonight) and homemade granola bars and whole wheat pesto pasta to have handy to take with me for lunches. I had never made the granola bars or gazpacho before and they are GREAT. All in all... this first-day-vegetarian is feeling very green and healthy.

(I should confess that I cooked myself up a big fat filet mignon with blue cheese crumbles last night as a last stand. Anyone in their right mind could avoid meat withdrawls for a good week after a meal like that.)

Today's Recipes:

Homemade Granola Bars

NOTE: I recommend using whatever dried fruit you most enjoy eating separately! I substituted dried papaya for dried apricots in mine.

Ingredients
2 cups old-fashioned oatmeal
1 cup sliced almonds
1 cup shredded coconut, loosely packed
1/2 cup toasted wheat germ
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
2/3 cup honey
1/4 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 cup chopped pitted dates
1/2 cup chopped dried apricots
1/2 cup dried cranberries
Directions
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter an 8 by 12-inch baking dish and line it with parchment paper.

Toss the oatmeal, almonds, and coconut together on a sheet pan and bake for 10 to 12 minutes, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned. Transfer the mixture to a large mixing bowl and stir in the wheat germ.

Reduce the oven temperature to 300 degrees F.

Place the butter, honey, brown sugar, vanilla, and salt in a small saucepan and bring to a boil over medium heat. Cook and stir for a minute, then pour over the toasted oatmeal mixture. Add the dates, apricots, and cranberries and stir well.

Pour the mixture into the prepared pan. Wet your fingers and lightly press the mixture evenly into the pan. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, until light golden brown. Cool for at least 2 to 3 hours before cutting into squares. Serve at room temperature.

Zucchini Gratin

NOTE: I recommend doubling up the zucchini on this one - The onion to zucchini ratio is overwhelmed with onions if you leave it as-is. Also you do NOT need as much butter as it calls for - I used about half of what it calls for for the veggies and didn't put any on top for baking.

Ingredients
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, plus extra for topping
1 pound yellow onions, cut in 1/2 and sliced (3 large)
2 pounds zucchini, sliced 1/4-inch thick (4 zucchini)
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup hot milk
3/4 cup fresh bread crumbs
3/4 cup grated Gruyere
Directions
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Melt the butter in a very large (12-inch) saute pan and cook the onions over low heat for 20 minutes, or until tender but not browned. Add the zucchini and cook, covered, for 10 minutes, or until tender. Add the salt, pepper, and nutmeg and cook uncovered for 5 more minutes. Stir in the flour. Add the hot milk and cook over low heat for a few minutes, until it makes a sauce. Pour the mixture into an 8 by 10-inch baking dish.

Combine the bread crumbs and Gruyere and sprinkle on top of the zucchini mixture. Dot with 1 tablespoon of butter cut into small bits and bake for 20 minutes, or until bubbly and browned.

Gazpacho

NOTE: I doubled this recipe and got a HA-YUGE amount of gazpacho on my hands now. Also when you serve it, one ladle full is enough. Just learned the hard way on that fact and some went to waste because of my indiscretion!

Ingredients
1 hothouse cucumber, halved and seeded, but not peeled
2 red bell peppers, cored and seeded
4 plum tomatoes
1 red onion
3 garlic cloves, minced
23 ounces tomato juice (3 cups)
1/4 cup white wine vinegar
1/4 cup good olive oil
1/2 tablespoon kosher salt
1 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
Directions
Roughly chop the cucumbers, bell peppers, tomatoes, and red onions into 1-inch cubes. Put each vegetable separately into a food processor fitted with a steel blade and pulse until it is coarsely chopped. Do not overprocess!

After each vegetable is processed, combine them in a large bowl and add the garlic, tomato juice, vinegar, olive oil, salt, and pepper. Mix well and chill before serving. The longer gazpacho sits, the more the flavors develop.

30 before 30

2010-06-19T02:56:00.017-04:00

1. Visit Alaska.
2. Visit London.
3. Attend a film festival.
4. Run a 5k and maybe even a 10k. (Completed August 27, 2011)
5. Become a regular.
6. Read “Gone with the Wind” cover to cover.
7. Hike Half Dome.
8. Take a cooking class.
9. Fly first class. (Completed August 1, 2010)
10. Eat dinner at Chez Panisse (Completed March 17, 2011)
11. Visit the Holy Land with a pastor.
12. Watch the Godfather Trilogy. (Godfather Part 1 - Watched July 10, 2010, Godfather Part II - Watched March 30, 2011)
13. Speak publicly.
14. Indulge in a day-spa package. (Completed September 24, 2011)
15. Paint on canvas. (Completed February 4, 2011)
16. Go vegetarian for at least 30 days. (Completed July 2010)
17. Dye my hair. (Completed September 7, 2011)
18. Attend an NFL Playoff game.
19. Go camping.
20. Throw someone a party.
21. Become a member of a church.
22. Go on a picnic.
23. Read the Complete Works of John Steinbeck.
24. Own a fancy camera.
25. Make jewelry.
26. Learn a song on my guitar.
27. Host a tea. (Hosted on December 11, 2010!)
28. Consistently identify a constellation other than the Big Dipper. (Learned on Dec 21, 2010)
29. Take a 30-day fast from television.
30. Send one handwritten letter every week for a year. (Started on January 1, 2011, Completed December 31, 2011)

A Public Letter to a Personal Friend

2010-06-18T21:27:00.006-04:00

It has been almost a year since Geoff was diagnosed and a month since he died. This is a letter that isn’t meant to encourage or comfort or to say I'm sorry. It is just a place to testify.

The last time I saw Geoff, he stood his normal tall and smiled his normal smile and even his color still had life. His “Cancer Sucks” button reflected his attitude. “Everything in my life is great!” he assured us, “It’s just this whole cancer thing.” He and I had a few private minutes outside the house, waiting on my brother. A few minutes I wanted to seize because I guess I thought they really might be the last for us even though he looked so great. And I want you to know, friend, that we used that time to talk about you. Your trajectory to Thailand was fresh, and not wanting to waste time talking about the cancer that was killing him, I offered, “I think it’s going to be really good for them… really good for him. You should see it someday. It’s a place for adventure. A place where he will be able to be adventurous again.” And that’s where the blessing started. The blessing of wanting you to live an adventure there. Geoff smiled and nodded and agreed. He blessed that blessing too.

Last month when my brother came back to the house from saying goodbye to Geoff, he was uncharacteristically inarticulate. He couldn’t quite say what had happened, what was said, how it felt. It was one of the first hot days of the year and his little boys wanted popsicles. He distributed them out, took one for himself, and went outside. The three of them slurping up their popsicles in the sun. Having contests on who could make the loudest, most obnoxious slurping sound. I’m not saying my brother ever needed a wake up call on time being precious or that being daddy is the most important role in his life, but something about that moment signaled to me that he felt that truth in his bones more than he had before. Geoff’s death has been life giving to him, friend.

Then, the week leading up to the funeral. It has always been okay to cry together, but to totally break down does nothing but make people worried about you. And I just desperately needed to actively grieve and physically mourn. I needed to literally cry out. I went to the reservoir with big dark glasses to cover my tears from the passersby and ultimately I ended up on one of the empty docks on the water. And I just cried and cried and cried and cried and cried. My face contorting, my head pounding, my wails growing louder. My crying turning to praying… or more of a pleading: “We surrender to the fact that healing didn’t happen, Lord! But now you have to move!” I said, broken. And then… in my cries… in my midst… Jesus himself. Just sitting there. Sitting next to me on the dock.
“Jesus! I’m angry!” And Him: “I know you’re angry.”
“Jesus!! I’m… sad.” “I know. I know you’re sad.”
“Jesus, I’m fucking heartbroken.” “I know how heartbroken you are.”
I’ve heard the voice of God before. I’ve felt the Holy Spirit prompt my soul. But until that moment, I had never felt the tangible physical presence of Jesus sitting shoulder to shoulder with me. I’ve never felt His friendship like that. He didn’t apologize or explain or say it was all going to be okay. He just listened and affirmed. He loved me. I don’t think Geoff had to die for me to experience Jesus that way, but I experienced Jesus that way because Geoff died. A simple truth. That, friend, is testimony.

Geoff

2010-06-04T17:38:00.003-04:00

Photo by Rachel Goble Carey

If you don't have faith that Jesus is who He says He is, then there is nothing good whatsoever about a 35 year old husband and father dying after a 10 month battle with Stage 4 colon cancer. To you, Geoff simply died and left behind a heartbroken wife and three children who absolutely adored him, not to mention countless grieving friends.

And we are heartbroken and grieving and raw and pissed off and hurt and in disbelief he is gone.

But we are also sure with every fiber of our beings that Geoff is with Jesus. Sure that God is faithful and good. Sure that there is a plan to redeem this loss and restore this family. Sure that God will move.

Tomorrow we will gather together to remember Geoff. I don't know how well my profoundly sad heart will be at celebrating his life, but I do know God's name will be lifted higher and higher and higher and higher.

Heartforward

2010-03-30T03:37:00.004-04:00

Camaron Ochs is a childhood friend and beautiful human being who has courageously offered her heart and talent into an amazing debut album called "Heartforward." I FINALLY got to see her live last weekend at a little acoustic venue and even if we didn't share the bond of Troop 577 Brownie-hood, I would still be writing this post and fully encouraging anyone who comes across it to go to www.camaronochs.com to check her out! The CD is also available on itunes and it's just one of those you can put on and listen to from the beginning to the end.

Now I am not usually one to take to many female voices, but Cam's sound is right up there stylistically like Joni Mitchell but sweet like Norah Jones. You will love the CD, I promise. Even better, if you are in the Bay Area go check her out live and invite me to come with you!

Sparks' Thailand Update!

2010-02-17T20:13:00.003-05:00

Overflowing with joy from this update Rach put together! Loving every single thing from piggy to the SOLDmobile to the porch to the kids to the resource center progress to Kao Soi to Sparks' happy face :)

FREEDOM Kids

2010-02-16T13:03:00.008-05:00

I've been back for a few weeks now knowing there was still one post I had left unwritten. I talked about Home of New Beginnings. I talked about VCDF. I didn't talk about us.

If lack of education leads to poverty,

And poverty is Thailand's trafficker,

Then, education is the key to prevention.

In a word, The SOLD Project is about prevention.

The fact is, it costs money to keep kids in school in Thailand. Many of the parents of the kids we are involved with are hard working rice farmers who simply do not make enough money to be able to prioritize education for their children. The SOLD Project provides scholarships for over 60 children and teenagers living in a small village outside Chiang Rai (and there are many waiting for sponsorship!). All of our kids exhibit one or more risk factors for ending up in the sex industry that range from single parent homes to being raised by a relative other than their parents to substance abuse in the home to family members formerly or currently in the sex industry.

The dream is that the cycle will stop with these kids. The FREEDOM kids.

But this business is tough. What our staff has come to is this: Prevention isn't sexy. We don't come home with a bunch of harrowing stories of us rescuing kids who are chained to beds or being sold by their mothers for drug money. We know those stories. We hate those stories. We will be damned if that becomes one of our kid's stories.

I went on this trip excited about many opportunities, but what I was completely unprepared for was how fast I would so deeply care for our kids. I'm absolutely crazy about them. I wish you could know them! They are crazy boys who like showing me their muscles and sneaking up on me from behind. They are tiny peanut girls who giggle unstoppably at anything Pi Nate does. They are teenagers who are learning english and planning what steps they are going to take next to become teachers or doctors.

(Photo by Daniel Showalter)

The SOLD Project is building a resource center in the middle of the village where many of the kids live. Practically, the center will be a place we can hold parent meetings and house long term volunteers. But something I didn't realize before I went there - something I needed to see to understand - was that these kids just need to have a place to BE. And in that light, I think all of SOLD has been individually daydreaming ideas for what that could look like. For me it means a birthday board and science projects and organized after school sports and a library with reading time and puppet shows and Saturday afternoon nail painting with the girls and exposing them to educational computer programs and maybe trying to talk about some public health issues. I daydream of truth being spoken into their lives - that they are Smart. Capable. Beautiful. Interesting. Confident... and Loved! Well loved.

So this post, really, is a primer. Because we need your money to do this. There is nothing I can think of that I want to do LESS than fundraising. But I realized this trip that I just haven't previously encountered something I feel strongly enough about to be asking for money. Rest assured, I've found that thing haha! I think this resource center will be a cornerstone to the SOLD Project in Chiang Rai. I think it will be a lasting place that will, ultimately, allow us to entrust it fully to local staff and free us to grow into other places. But most importantly, it will be a place for the kids to just be.

VCDF

2010-01-24T06:05:00.003-05:00

An artist named Kru Nam couldn't ignore the street kids she passed every day - where did they live? Did they have mothers? Why weren't they in school?

So one day she set up a canvas on the street and began to paint. And the kids came to watch... a few here, a few more there. The next day she came back - this time with extra supplies for the kids to paint along with her. The kids had nothing else to do, nowhere else to go, no one watching out for them. So Kru Nam did something about it.

Volunteers for Children Development Foundation now runs two orphanages in Chiang Sean and Chiang Mai and two drop-in centers in Mae Sai and Chiang Mai. The orphanages provide a more stable, consistent, long-term opportunity for the kids to get off the streets. The drop-in centers are a place for kids still on the streets - many of them are young boys working at the bars for western men- and is a place for them to nap, relax, and receive education (including STD, HIV/AIDS prevention information).

So that's the information.

But the story is really in the individual faces. Each comes with a past of sexual exploitation - too awful to sensationalize on this blog - or neglect, or child labor, or abuse, or a combination of all of those and then some. They are loved back to life by the VCDF staff. Through art therapy, for example. And through a venue where they are allowed to be loud, silly, giggly, sweet, crazy kids.

Engrish

2010-01-23T09:33:00.007-05:00

This post is dedicated exclusively to Sweeting - a fellow engrish lover and inspiration for these photos:

A universal truth.

Excuse me, Mr. Joe but when does the Grand Place open exactly? I'm hedging my be's on this one.

Well... I guess when you think about it, that is what we do.

I promise this is a restaurant menu and not a brothel services list.

I am not sure I actually want to know what a demon moustache is.

Only if it's sometimes.

Alliteration at it's best.

Perhaps "fresh" has a different meaning than I'm aware of?

Thai attempt at diet rap?

Please leave your machetes, dogs, and cigarettes at home but be sure to bring your best karaoke song requests.

Too much indeed.

So many tenses, I don't even know where to go with this one.

Well I guess that's one way of looking at it.

So... provided I give 10 points, I can take it to jail with me, right?

"You lose what you do not share"

2010-01-20T05:22:00.005-05:00

On Tha Pae Road in Chiang Mai, there is a cluttered storefront with layers of paintings obstructing the already tiny doors in. Once inside, you're met with piles and piles and layers and layers of paintings filled with happy colors and gentle blessings.

Live your dream, don't dream your life.

Think global, Act local.

It is better to dance in the rain than to weather the storm.

John Gallery has been open for 30 years. He is beautiful - with kind eyes and smile wrinkles. His initial goal was to reach 100,000 paintings but he has far surpassed that and told me he is now aiming for 200,000. I bought a medium sized painting that says "Do what you love, the universe will take care of the rest." He threw in a few extra paintings as gifts - "Because I have so many! You lose what you do not share," he said.

Soi Cowboy Update!

2010-01-20T05:11:00.003-05:00

Here is an exerpt from an email I received from Bonita yesterday...

"I THINK you went with Jit on outreach to Soi Cowboy? Just to let the team know that as a result of outreach, particularly to Soi Cowboy, we had ELEVEN girls come to English class. We have not had so many new girls in a very long time. Thank you! We had to divide them into two groups - beginners and four others who could converse a bit but wanted reading and writing skills."

Makes me teary :)

And wondering about which particular girls came. I can see their faces. Which eleven were they?

Oh, the potential!

To Dream Again

2010-01-16T05:33:00.003-05:00

The Home of New Beginnings doesn’t look like much from the outside-in. The street gate creeks open, the cement in the courtyard is cracked, the picnic table seems to be slowly succumbing to cobwebs. Outside the door there are 50 some-odd pairs of shoes (women will be women no matter where they come from!) and a cranky turtle snaps at you from his terrarium home as you step in. But for a place focused on the inside-out, there is nothing more appropriate than an unassuming three story equivalent to an American row house.

Bonita Thompson wondered what she was going to dig her heels into when she and her husband Roy moved to Thailand some five years ago to alleviate travel stresses for his job. There are other organizations working with the bar girls in Bangkok – other organizations doing wonderful work – but Bonita’s dreams are deep, not wide. And 30 girls out of the bars later, the Home of New Beginnings is a place for capacity building. A place for hope. A place for safety.

A place for women to dream again.

Counseling is a virtually unknown idea to Thailand so for a group of Thai women who have not been given enough formal education, been beaten and left by their alcoholic husbands, told they must support their family (their entire family – grandparents, kids, parents, cousins), then certainly mistreated and perhaps raped by customers… Bonita has her work cut out for her.

HNB girls go out to Nana Place and Soi Cowboy and befriend the girls there – offering them English lessons (which they can get, free of charge, regardless of their intention to leave the bars). The hope is this exposure to the house will make them feel welcome, comfortable, and expose them to the fact that there are other ways to live. Other opportunities.

Home of New Beginnings offers a free place to live, food, and a support system of all the women who live there. HNB gives the girls in the house a weekly stipend so they have something to live on and perhaps even send back to their families who are depending on those baht. The girls educational needs are assessed and then met (two girls are in University and most others are working towards Grade 12). They are taught sewing and other craft skills (they sell shirts, bags, little cute hair barrettes, journals, greeting cards, table runners out of the house for some extra income). Capacity building.

Still, there are empty beds. A pay cut and more difficult work (studying is more difficult than sex, perhaps) doesn’t sound overly attractive to most of the 2,000 girls in Soi Cowboy and 3,000 girls in Nana who must provide for their families back home. To this, Bonita shrugs her shoulders and admits the home’s emotional capacity is probably less than the amount of open beds they have.

The Home of New Beginnings needs are:

-Money. The monthly overhead is about 8500 USD. There is only 2200 USD pledged per month. Each month comes with $6300 worth of anxiety. Each. Month.

-Bar fines. Home of New Beginnings throws a huge Christmas Party for any girl from any bar who wants to have a night of food, friends, music, presents. But they have to pay the bar fine to get that girl out of the bar for the night. They also want to be able to pay the bar fines for girls who don’t feel well on any given day. Most girls work 28 days of every month and are not able to take the night off if they don’t feel good without paying their own fine. How much? About 800 Baht or 24 USD.

-Interns. Good ones. Self-sufficient, previously traveled, extremely relational and confident interns willing to give a six month commitment.

-A new refrigerator. And a fixed or new AC unit for the classroom.

-Teams to come paint beautifully girly colored rooms!

On a happy note, the house mama named Ann is coming to visit (of all places) Pleasanton, California in a few months and all she wants to do is go to breakfast at Country Waffles and have a huge serving of whipped cream on her waffles. We can do that for you, Ann - we'll order all the whipped cream you can stomach :)

Silly Farang

2010-01-13T11:22:00.004-05:00

Talked to the girls for a few hours tonight on Soi Cowboy. Swallowed deep, put on my Thai smile like it's all fine and normal to be hanging out with topless prostitutes.

Brought them fruit - mangoes spiced with red chili flakes, green grapes. Got there before it got too busy, too crazy for them to talk.

One girl said I needed a tan and could come back and work with her.

Two asian men asked how must I cost. How much? How much?

Not for sale.

The same girl who said I need a tan also told me I'm fat and if I stay in Thailand, I'll eat Thai food and get skinny. "Honey if I get skinny like you, I'll also have small tits like yours." She thought that was really funny. And I do too :)

A dad was in one of the go-gos with his 15 years old-ish son. The son looked absolutely terrified.

The mama-sans were nice to me until the clock struck 10pm. Then I was taking up prime real estate in front of the stage and needed to vacate. They were nice then too, but I still had to vacate. She hoped I'd come back and she'd see me soon.

One girl said she had been in Bangkok - which for her means in the bars - for six days. Six months you mean? Six days, she re-confirmed. Then she had to go on the stage.

A girl asked me if I wanted to try what she was eating. I really didn't but did anyway. After I took a cautious bite she told me it was "mou" and puffed up her cheeks. "MOUSE!? Lady, I'm a farang! We don't eat mouse!" She laughed for about five minutes - translated what I said to the other girls (more laughter) and clarified what I had eaten was actually "mouth." A duck's, apparently. Well ok then. That's slightly better. I told her I don't like the bugs they eat from the bug carts either - because the legs get stuck in my teeth. She thought that was funny too. Silly farang.

Waking

2010-01-09T05:58:00.002-05:00

Little thrills me more than waking up on the first morning of a trip. So often I arrive under night’s cloak; all my orientation completely off thanks to an extra 50 baht worth of suspiciously circular turns to find our destination on Soi 4. Friday night in Sukhumvit. Alive with “closed” bars – their patrons “finishing up” their beers.

In an effort to clean up the drug trade and mafia activity – and perhaps to curtail international reputation for other surreptitious proceedings – a few years ago, the Thai government mandated that bars in Bangkok close at 1am. Public outcry ensued, causing an amendment to the rule and allowing some bars in some areas to be open later. Unexempt bars now just turn the house lights off, move patrons to the street tables, and serve until clients dissipate. I first experienced this during my 2007 trip when all the lights on a whole strip of bars went dark but my waiter offered me another Singha through his characteristically toothy thai smile.

Back to this morning. My fascination with time is perhaps eclipsed by the phenomenon of travel. Yesterday (or two days ago thanks to the International Dateline), I left San Francisco and today – Bangkok. Clad in what I’m hoping looks bohemian (but in fairness amounts to wrinkled clothes and wild hair) I “sawadee’d” our hotel security, denied “where are you going” taxi drivers, and dodged the morning noodle stands. Appear like you have a destination, adjust bag to front of body, hide eyes behind sunglasses. And look…

Beers at 9am? Really, gentlemen? Breakfast with last night’s courtesan? Well, how decent of you. I see a sign for Starbucks but fight my instincts with a streetside iced coffee instead.

Signs – Massage! Melodies Guesthouse: Nice rooms, Happy bar to make your dreams come true! Tiff Gold Shop. Charming Bar. Nana BTS.

Faces – girls weary from working last night, one older (retired?) woman, red-faced white men with beer bellies, a pimp?

I’m looking for heartbreak but I sense normalcy.

Good Morning, Bangkok.

Making a Mess

2010-01-08T03:50:00.003-05:00

On Christmas Eve, I cut my mom off right before she was about to share Jesus with a friend of ours. I threw my hands up between them and told the friend to retreat from the conversation. Why am I afraid of making a mess?

Part of my thinking is I want people to see a different church than the stone they grew up around. A church where they experience freedom and authenticity. A church that's - well - not afraid to make a mess.

What I've assumed about the non-Christians in my life is that they have heard the gospel before. John 3:16 is a tired line that they aren't buying. I’ve been a slave to that assumption.

The reality of Jesus walking on this earth, the profundity of what that means for us, is something they are "happy I feel strongly about" or "glad my faith is important to me." But in processing some of this, I can think of only two friends who have ever asked me what I believe in. And I can think of many more than two friends who I'm not sure *really* have heard about who Jesus is, why He came.

The second part of 2 Corinthians 5 is packed with the gospel message:

Verses 14-15: For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again.

Verse 17: Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!

Verse 21: God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

Compelling. Convincing. For all. New. So that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

In the same chapter, Paul says "If we are out of our mind, it is for the sake of God; if we are in our right mind, it is for you." Maybe you needed to read or re-read those other verses. But that last one is for me today - a call to be out of my mind. A call to make a mess.

2009

2010-01-04T12:23:00.012-05:00

The title of this entry is intentionally devoid of adjectives, qualifications, or predilection. I'm conflicted.

My initial and quickest reaction to 2009 is it's a year I am glad to say goodbye to. I've never felt like this before - never felt such a strong readiness for a year to be over. I've been saying things like "I'd be lying if I said it was a great year" or "You know what? It was a weird year."

I lost my job. I said goodbye to friends and closed a chapter on a life I loved. Taylor's baby is dead. Geoff is fighting cancer. My dad's business sucks and watching his discouragement is beyond upsetting. Julie and Darren's financial situation stinks right now. I'm stressed out about getting into school and having no back up plan. The asshole who attempted to rape and murder my roommate didn't take the plea bargain so now we are answering calls from lawyers and getting knocks on our doors from the defendant's legal team three days before Christmas.

So life's hard, is it? I guess I didn't really know that before this year. But I think - I know - I can't throw away what 24 other years have taught me. Life is interesting. Fresh. Full. Unexpected.

I think to how this year started. In Barcelona. And Rome. With friends. Ones I could have never imagined I'd have.

I think to opportunities I had and seized.

And of little moments that are still making me laugh or smile. A blooper reel of sorts:

Meredith's impression of the opossum Liz almost hit...

Unbelievable rainbows over Niagra Falls

Peak-a-boo!

OMG, Disgruntled Boo haha!

By far the cutest picture potential RUINED thanks to Muffin.

Excuse me, sir? I'm trying to read.

Sorry Maus. I couldn't help myself.

You guys think walking through KELLY'S is more scary than walking through Apex?

Am I looking FORWARD to 2010? Sure. For a new niece. In anticipation of a move to a city I can't wait to dig my heels into. For another year of unscheduled weekdays. For the fact 2009 is behind me.

Weekend at Arista

2009-12-21T19:23:00.009-05:00

Meli visited us all the way from Paris and I was of course MORE than happy to accept an invitation to spend a weekend at David's parents place near Healdsburg. Arista Winery makes a great flight of wines ranging from a rare-for-Sonoma Gewurztaminer to a few different pinots that are wonderful. Much more important, however, is the hospitality of the McWilliams who are amongst the most generous and warm people I know.

But back to Meli... Melina REALLY wanted an "American breakfast" - and who could blame her when that means bacon and cheese until your blood is practically the consistency of oil!? We met at a diner that totally lived up to expectations. Here's a pic of a very happy and satisfied Meli after we ate:

The McWilliams just got the COOLEST present EVER from a family member that I have dubbed the "Aristamobile" - It's fully equipped with the Arista logo, plenty of cushiony seats, storage, a cd player, and of course a Texas Longhorn or two. David wasted no time driving us around the property and I wasted no time sampling a little vino :)

Pretty oak. Very Annie Liebs.

We also squeezed in a non-wine-related event of going to Armstrong Woods so Melina could see the Redwoods. It was all overcast and foggy which actually was a really cool effect for the trees. You could look up and see droplets of water falling down from wayyyyyyyyyyy up there all the way to the ground. Makes you feel small.

Aside from getting conned into seeing Avatar, it was a great and relaxing weekend that we ate and drank entirely too much. I did get to go to a bunch of new wineries I had never tasted at before such as "J" winery which was probably one of my favorite tastings ever. We did just the champagne flight. So needless to say it was very successful :). Great to spend downtime with Melina too - all too often we are in the craziness of a group. So nice to slow down!

Go NAVY! Beat Army!

2009-12-12T17:35:00.002-05:00

Sad. Not there this year.

Resurrecting my post from 2007 - Click here!

And dug up this funny pic from last year's game in Philly. I love how NOT amused Steve is by my sign.

(Muff and Sweeting, do you guys have pictures from that day? I don't know why I have so few. Actually I do. Too many irish coffees! And Lo, I need that cute Army/Navy Towel one of us!)

Gettysburg Address - November 19, 1863

2009-11-19T15:59:00.003-05:00

One of my favorite DC things to do was take a good power walk around the Mall. Around halfway I'd charge up the Lincoln Memorial stairs, elbow some tourists out of the way, and detour left to the text of the Gettysburg Address. I'd lean against the second column from the front, pause my ipod, and mouth the words start to finish. The richness and relevancy of these words give me chills.

Some texts can't come alive until you say them aloud; until you feel the rhythm of delivery...

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate... we can not consecrate... we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion - that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain - that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom - and that government: of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

TIME time time time

2009-11-14T01:18:00.003-05:00

Thanksgiving! -- 11 days 17 hours, 31 minutes, 12 seconds
Done with Prereqs! -- 33 days, 11 hours, 30 minutes, 22 seconds
Happy Birthday Jesus -- 40 days, 17 hours, 29 minutes, 37 seconds
New Years in Madison! -- 45 days, 7 hours, 28 minutes, 8 seconds
Sawadee Thailand! -- 54 days, 4 hours, 25 minutes, 41 seconds
Take the GRE -- 79 days, 1 hour, 24 minutes, 23 seconds
UIC Application DUE! - 106 days, 17 hours, 22 minutes, 9 seconds

Happy Birthday Kevin Carey!

2009-10-05T15:35:00.002-04:00

(Kev on the far right)

Kevin is my first friend in the whole world and I think that fact has meant more to me this year than it has any year before it.

A list of 26 things I admire about Kevin in no particular order:

1. Kevin is competitive in a good way. (It has taken some years to smooth out the edges on this one but you did it Kev!)
2. Kevin is a great listener. He doesn't just nod his head and agree with what you're saying - he thinks about it and will ask you to elaborate if he doesn't understand.
3. Kevin uses his hands in a very distinct way when he talks - especially in front of people - it's really cute.
4. Kevin is well-read.
5. Kevin makes the best BBQ salmon ever. Also shrimp but the salmon has an edge for some reason.
6. Kevin is still holding strong with his love for powdered or chocolate doughnettes after all these years.
7. Kevin writes and plays music and is in a band that's even on itunes.
8. Kevin totally hit the marriage jackpot with Rach.
9. Kevin makes meaningful friendships with nice people (which benefits me directly b/c I in turn get to be around them)
10. Kevin can eat whatever he wants and will still be a beanpole for his whole life (hey this is about things I admire, remember!?)
11. Kevin developed great personal style in college and wears it well.
12. Kevin has a sincerity and humility I think only found in people who have gone through the ringer. He could have chosen to be hardened and angry. Instead he's sincere and humbled. Maybe this should have been the number one thing I admire.
13. Kevin loves him some Jesus and Jesus lovvvvvvvvves him some Kev.
14. Kevin's biggest vice I'm aware of is he smokes cloves. Pretty good for a biggest semi-public vice. Plus, I like enjoying a good clove with him. (Linda and Lee if you're reading this just cool your jets... it's only once in awhile after heavy dinner conversation that needs some porch time follow up!)
15. Kevin is a new blogger! Check out re:birth here.
16. Kevin lets Rachel call him "Snugs" in public with little to no protest.
17. Kevin is fantastic at that crazy weird rabbit wii game where you sit on the board and sled down the slopes. He doesn't even get hung up when you "sabatoge" him with snowballs.
18. Kevin indulges my attempts at being philosophical and/or theological.
19. Kevin also indulges me when I'm being girly or wanting "the scoop" on someone's relationship. He does this by passing me off to Rach haha.
20. Kevin is such a learner! He wants to know a lot, see a lot, experience a lot, etc. His enthusiasm for new stuff is contagious!
21. Kevin is a beloved uncle, brother, and son.
22. Kevin is a loving uncle, brother, and son.
23. Kevin takes criticism well. I kept bugging him that he never responds to my emails or texts quickly enough and there has been a real improvement in that area since I filed my complaint.
24. Kevin is a straight man who loves Glee and isn't ashamed to say so.
25. Kevin appreciates the value of a good nap.
26. Kevin loves God and loves people in a profound way that goes beyond his 26 years of learning how.

Love YOU Kev - Happy Birthday!

Patrick's Visit!

2009-10-05T15:34:00.001-04:00

After getting multiple "LAZY!!!!" comments and disappointed text messages from Patrick about me not updating my blog to about the "life changing week he visited" I am FINALLY getting my ducks in a row and posting oodles of pictures from his visit!

We spent the first few days in San Francisco! The first night in we went for drinks at the Cliffhouse which overlooks the ocean and has AMAZING sunset views. Patrick found a friend there...

Then my worlds collided when Patrick met Nibbles! Nora was a wonderful hostess for dinner, drinks, and an overnight at her apartment.

So good of a hostess, in fact, that she managed to find a bar (the oink oink wheeeeeeeee) with sumo wrestlers so now Patrick thinks this is a normal SF occurrence.

Of course Patrick and I started the next day reading at a coffee shop for a few hours before heading over to the Golden Gate Bridge. The WHOLE time leading up to the trip Patrick had this vision of exactly what his Golden Gate picture would be. Facebook profile worthy, perhaps. But we got there and alas... SF fog strikes again...

Bah. He still KINDA got one in!

What you can't tell about this picture is we are at Pier 39 in front of the smelly sea lions. What you CAN tell about this picture is that my arm looks awesome.

Patrick Kelly! Welcome to the mothership!

His and Hers Happy Hour Twofers!

Alas I have left out all of our Napa wine tasting pics. No great ones to share - but we had a gorgeous Napa day with my dad. Took Patrick mostly around the Silverado Trail - to Luna, Stagg's Leap, and Silverado. Also had DELICIOUS "California" sandwiches at Oakville. That night we went out to dinner with my sister's family at the club and then headed up to Tahoe for a few days!

Patrick + Carrie + Tahoe = Perfection. For me, Tahoe is coffee drinking and reading all morning, maybe doing a long work out in the afternoon, and either making or going out for dinner and watching tv by the fire at night. Extremely slow paced, quiet, and productive. No one understands coffee and reading time like Patrick. And now, no one understands coffee and reading and Tahoe time like Patrick :)

Ok, ok... perfection in Tahoe also includes wine or beer at Sunnyside...

Patrick stuck around long enough to celebrate my birthday! I'm not a big blow out birthday kind of person at all, but I seriously had one of the best days this year. We started by picking out a hike to do up off Skyline Drive in the Oakland hills through a redwood grove. SO pretty and just a great day for a hike...

Oh hey.

Dad set us up for massages after the hike which were AMAZING of course. Both of us passed out I'm pretty sure. Then we raced back to the house for my birthday BBQ. Such a fun, silly bunch - longtime family friends, Kev and Rach, Patrick, Geo and Ingrid, the Wassells, Meg... I'm so glad Patrick was there to meet everyone since I have been able to meet so many equivalent figures in his life in Madison.

THIS picture makes me laugh to no end. You go Hannah!

Worlds colliding again!

Aww Meg you look so cute in this pic. You too Patrick, you too.

Ok - haha - I KNOW Patrick is going to cut me for including this picture but I could NOT resist. I guess this explains why you and Meg were just a notch above the rest by the end of the night, eh?

Ending on a cute note... AWW! We are SO cute! We do the best self-takers (well... Patrick does the best self-takers but I help by looking cute and angling my head just so). I think it's fair to say there are few people you actually can spend 10 days with and not want to kill yourself at some point before they leave. Perhaps even rarer would be someone you want to spend 10 days with and put in a bunch of different environments with different people and know they can be so versatile and flexible and wonderful with everything. But that's my Patrick :)

DC Visits

2009-10-05T15:23:00.005-04:00

I had TWO DC visits in September after 7 months of being away... The first was for Phil and Tiff's wedding!! Such a great way to spend quality time with some of my favorites. It was a very relaxed just have fun kind of wedding - so reflective of Phil and Tiff as individuals and couple!

Loving Tiff's dress!

Pretty lanterns and colors during the first dance :)

Phil and Tiff spent hours upon hours HAND MAKING the centerpieces at each table. I was VERY excited about them as you can see. So excited that I felt it appropriate to take them out of their vases and do a photo shoot, I guess...

Apparently I was not the ONLY one who thought that was a good idea thank you very much!

Group Shot! (You have no idea how difficult it was to get this... Drew kept screwing up every single one and all I wanted was a nice picture of the group for goodness sake. I concluded that Drew was no longer going to be included in group pictures and let him know that this was due to his lack of "original group" status and disrespect for my group shot attempts.)

Great to see everyone that weekend. Even the part when Muffin threw a pillow that knocked a full beer over onto Sean's pants resulting in disgruntled Sean and un-remorseful Muffin. Also the repeated wake up calls called in to Callanan and Lamme's room. I had nothing to do with that, but it's good to know some things never change.

Second DC trip in September was for Secretary Bodman's Portrait Unveiling! It was SO great to see the old DOE crew. Oh how I miss them (them, YES! the time and energy involved... errrrr, no). I loved hearing about what everyone is doing now and just laughing with old friends and getting the dirt about what's going on in Washington now. The Secretary's portrait turned out SO well, don't you think? Makes me miss it all... just a little ;)

Rach and Kev

2009-08-31T17:32:00.010-04:00

FIRST - You have GOT to check out Jedd Goble's video montage of the day - it is FANTASTIC! Here's the link.

What you might see in a newspaper announcement:

On Sunday, August 23rd, 2009 Rachel D'Aun Goble of Pleasanton married Kevin George Carey of Lafayette surrounded by many loved ones on a gorgeous evening at Wente Vineyards in Livermore. There is some debate over how they first met, but either way it is clear the couple are very much in love and make a fantastic pair. Kevin and Rachel plan to honeymoon in Italy and Thailand.

The real deal:

The rehearsal dinner was O-mazing. Just a really fun night at Postino thanks to fantastic planning by Linda and MC'ing by Chuck. Lots of funny and heartfelt toasts. Kevin turned sheet-white when I got up there and admitted to embarrassing things about us as kids and he wasn't sure what was going to come out of my mouth. HA! I'm laughing to myself thinking of that exact look on his face.

The day of the wedding all the girls met at D'Aun and Roy's house and did all the pretty princess things like hair and makeup and nails and giggles and gossip. And of course... what's a pretty princess party without food and a bride looking so - um - gorgeous?...

Haha ok was that a mean way to first show off the bride? Well if you had watched the video link it wouldn't be the first you saw now would it!? So unfortunately this is the part of the story that was heartbreaking. Even dudes get why this is the worst thing that can happen to a bride on her wedding day (next to the groom ditching out, I guess... that would have been worse huh Rach?). Ok so here is Rachel first getting on her gorgeous dress at Wente so she can take some pictures and then see Kev. We're all right on schedule at this point...

Notice Rach and D'Aun's faces... something is not quite right. The conversation went something like this:
Bridesmaid Chorus: Oooh, Rachel! Stunning. Love it! Amazing, Gorgeous!
(Dress not quite zipping up, people adjusting it on her to get her to fit just right in it so it will zip...)
Rachel: This is not my dress.
D'Aun/Jen/Bridesmaid Chorus: Nooooo. No, no. That's silly. This is your dress! This is totally your dress. This is your dress, right?
Rachel (still totally composed): This doesn't feel like the dress I tried on in the last fitting. I really don't think it's my dress. The size on the tag is smaller than the one I ordered.
Bridesmaid Chorus: ....... !(@*$@&^@!)(!@*!#&*%$*!(!(!*@*&

And then panic mode ensued involving Clarissa's Couture in Walnut Creek being called multiple times (It was Sunday! They were closed! No emergency number!) and my mom marching down there and banging on the door and asking nearby businesses for backup cell numbers of the Clarissa's people... nothing. A prayer circle began around Rach when the realization that they had given her the right dress fitted for some other bride set in but really... the girl just needed to see Kev. So Kevin (now on Wente grounds also) was summoned into the girls room and marched dutifully in to comfort a still-keeping-it-together-but-a-teensy-bit-emotional Rachel. Rach was a whole new happy girl hand in hand with Kev after that and a fun wedding party toast really kicked off the party :)

Ah, but what did we end up doing about the dress you ask? So the wedding coordinator ended up tracking down a seamstress on her day OFF who raced over and literally LITERALLY sewed Rachel into the dress she had by adding a panel to the back of it and doing a really cool crisscross weavy kind of thing to make it look fantastic. And it did, it looked wonderfully fantastic. Here's a happy Rach patiently getting sewed into her now-custom designed dress...

And then the rest of the day... man... it was just FUN. Rachel's creativity and vision and style came alive in the venue. The boys standing before guests arrived looking at everything gives you a sense of what it all looked like...

Announcing for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Carey! (Love that Emily is giving a big hallllllelujah! haha)

Love this one of the ladies in their post-vow sunglasses. Especially the little girls - the looked SO cute!

Awww... first friends :) Oh ya - forgot to add that Kevin FORGOT the marriage license at home so I made a run and get it in the middle of the reception. What are first friends for?

We danced the night away (which clearly I don't have good pictures of since the camera would have inhibited my hot dance moves!) and all too soon, it was time for Kev and Rach to hightail it OUTTA there in Roy's old Ford that was sufficiently dressed up with streamers and a "just married" sign.

What you don't know or won't read in a paper:

There was something so spiritually RIGHT about this wedding. There was not an un-ugly cry to be found when Rachel walked down the aisle towards Kevin. I have a softness in my heart and fresh happy tears in my eyes when I think about the Goble-Carey wedding because it was - it REALLY was - a blessed day where two very well loved and cherished people in their own right became one very well loved and cherished couple.

I Eat Stories Like Grapes

2009-08-31T16:59:00.007-04:00

It took me all Summer to get through East of Eden for two reasons:
1. I forgot it in the back seat of my car before a trip and had 750 pages worth of distraction by a Harry Potter I picked up at the airport as a substitute.
2. From the very first page, I knew it could be one of the very best novels I ever read. So I allowed myself to slow down my eyes, quiet my mind, sit with each chapter, and marinate in its deliciousness.

If you read East of Eden (or should I say WHEN you read East of Eden), may I recommend the Centennial Edition pictured above? It has those serrated and offset pages that feel sacred against your fingertips.

I'm finding it difficult to summarize why I loved it. Or make a pitch for why YOU will love it. Perhaps there are too many possibilities to package. For me, it was the familiarity of the Salinas Valley setting. It was the complexity and honesty and under-explanation of the characters. It was so much history in english. And many, many things in between.

The wonderful thing about East of Eden is almost without exception (I've found one so I have to say "almost"), everyone who finds out that you are reading it clasps their hand over their chest and exhales a huge "OHHHHHHH my god. What part are you at?! Can you believe how evil Kate is?" No actually, I can't believe it. Her sharp little teeth are my favorite representation of her inherent evil. And speaking of, IS she inherently evil? If one of the central messages of the novel is "thou mayest" then she must have chosen that evil right?

"Maybe I will tell you some time when I can tell and you want to hear."
"I'll want to hear," Samuel said. "I eat stories like grapes."
"A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And the people of the world were good and handsome. And I was not afraid anymore."

Shane and Carissa McLean!

2009-08-30T02:03:00.004-04:00

Writing their names out like that makes me even more happy than I imagined it would. Shane and Carissa said their "I do's" last Friday, August 21st. They held the ceremony and reception at this really neat mountain home in Boulder, Colorado on an absolutely perfect night.

Unfortunately my camera battery didn't make it through the whole night so I didn't end up with many pictures, but here are a couple highlights...

Oh Carissa, you are lovely beyond words.

You may kiss the bride, man!

This one is for Big Wiz, who is definitely the most likely to ask about the food and cake :)

My camera held out just long enough for one with the bride and groom - Yay! (Yes, I'm wearing the same dress as I did to Erica's wedding AND to Staff Ball in DC. Shut up.)

It was a very quick trip - I flew into Denver on Friday morning and out Saturday afternoon but I am just SO glad I was able to make it. I was thinking about how with people you know are going to be your friends forever, the meaning behind being present for something as huge as a wedding is going to grow exponentially as we get on through the years.

And there will be many sweet years to come for these two :)

Baby Don't Ya Wanna Go...

2009-08-30T01:06:00.004-04:00

...back to that same ol place SWEET HOME CHICAGO.

When I was in Madison I caught wind that the FRENCHIES were going to take Chicago by storm along with an epic gaggle of DC gays for Market Days. Well I simply could not have them having all the fun without me so I rationalized that I needed to take a trip there to meet with the NP program I want to get into anyway and bought a ticket I couldn't afford.

There were SO many people in town! It was like every time I turned around in the bars there was another DC person I wasn't expecting. They practically transplanted Logan Circle to Boystown. It was glorious!

We did have to get some touristy things in of course, so we went to the top of the Sears Tower (or Willis Tower now apparently). It was a miserable two hour wait to get to the top, but once we did the photo shoot ensued.

They have these cool see-through boxes coming off the side of the building that you can sit/lay/stand in and look straight down the billion floors under you. It's really exhilarating actually! Here's Luis, Bobby, and David "falling" down to the city streets...

Walking on air!

Ah I just love this picture. I need to frame it. HOTT.

This is the scene from our little VIP area we made for ourselves on the sidewalk looking out on Market Days 2009. It was CRAZY! GREAT dance music, by the way. We found ourselves saying "Why don't we always party outside like this!?"

Too cute we are :)

By FAR the BEST picture of the whole day if you ask me.

Each night brought with it a different adventure and I literally saw the sunrise more in those few days than I have in probably five years. Ridiculousness, of course, but it was just no time to be sleeping! The last night we were there was Madonna-Rama at one of the clubs and we were all like completely exhausted from the weekend so everyone was kinda tuckering out and the boys asked me if I was ready to go. They are used to me being like YES let's GO and this time I looked at them and in all seriousness was like "I am NOT leaving until I hear Like a Prayer." I was resolute. So we waited around for another hour or so for it to be on and then performed it aggressively on the dance floor. Love it.

Not surprisingly, Patrick and I still managed to get ohhhhh about 20 hours of coffee shop reading time in. I even discovered this great used bookstore on Broadway and injudiciously bought a "Complete Works of Winnie the Pooh" that was screaming my name. Actually, speaking of Patrick - you will notice he is not in ANY of these pictures. THAT'S because he hasn't given me the pictures off his camera from that weekend yet. Lame. (Patrick seriously, I want those cute ones of us on the bed that we had a good giggle over (ooh that could be interpreted badly haha). Also the "GET YOUR ARMOR" ones too! OMG! I want to see those right now!)

Oh! Also noteworthy - Kathryn and I had breakfast for dinner at a great little neighborhood gem of a diner near Clark and Belmont (look at me with all my Chicago street knowledge!) AND Patrick and I both had flights out of ORD at about the same time so we went and actually met up with Stef and Tricia who were passing through on their way to Australia so we had a little pow-wow with them before leaving town right in the middle of Terminal B.

Damn I love that city. I can't wait to call it home. If only everyone who was there that weekend would do the same :)

Tragedies Abound

2009-07-25T00:36:00.002-04:00

Terrible things are happening to dear friends.

This is to be expected when we are lead through a world that's not our home. I stole that line.

Is the shock value in all of it a result of being young? In another 25 years will I be less shocked, less devastated?

I want to unapologetically talk about some things I'm thinking about.

I'm feeling really overwhelmed by all of the things that are going right. My body is functioning as it should be. Being a student of anatomy right now makes that realization more remarkable than ever before. It is more apparent than ever that we hang in a delicate cradle of grace with anything related to our bodies. I am so glad I am starting to understand that reality.

Jacob wrestled with God. Do you bible scholars ever think about that? He WRESTLED with GOD. Genesis 32 right? We really are left with no details of that exchange. We can suggest that it had something to do with Jacob's guilt over his past with Esau but even then... not really. Of all the things to wrestle with God about and it's about Esau? I don't know, I just... am not convinced it was reduced to just that. But we don't know and we won't. We only know that it happened. And what I take is this... Wrestling with God doesn't mean we deny him. It doesn't mean we turn away. It doesn't mean we don't trust or love or thirst or deny. Wrestling is another form of exchange. Of balance. Of understanding. Oh God won't you give me a kernel of understanding after this match is finished?

I'm overjoyed by the liberation that comes with true faith. No play acting, no apologetics, no censorship. I'm gritty! I'm crass! I'm immature! I'm provocative! I'm unconventional! I'm grounded. And oh, my roots are growing deep with every drink.

I see my need for external validation peeling away one layer at a time. I'm not sure why this is important yet but feel that it must be.

Friends, we must talk to friends in crisis with the same persistence we do in peace. We must approach them with confidence and care and compassion. Now is not the time to be silent! Be bold with your friends. Always.

Thankful and angry. Certain and shaken. Uplifted and off-base.

I remain,

Confidently humbled.