WSP: A Look Back...

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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...

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!

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

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

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.