You'll probably say it was only a Cardinal

Alright, folks....we're going to do something new and silly and never before done on this blog....

Announcing...a very frivolous contest.

With prizes! Although I'm not sure what they are yet...

So I update my Facebook status, via Twitter, at least once or twice a day. And it occurred to me to take it on as a personal and very ridiculous challenge to update my status for one week only in song lyrics. And THEN it occurred to me that it was not nearly as much fun if I was playing this game all by myself as it would be for everyone else to play, too. So here are the rules...

1. Read my status updates. If you aren't part of the Facebook community, ask yourself why you're being such a hermited Luddite. And then, look over here ( -----> ), because the Facebook-via-Twitter thing also makes them show up on the blog. And you can clearly get to the blog if you're here already.

2. Identify the song and artist from which the lyrics come. You can do this in one of three ways:
a. By commenting on my Facebook status directly
b. By posting a comment on the latest blog post
c. By sending me an email

Yep, that's pretty much it.

The person with the most correct responses by the end of the week (defined as Monday 1/26 to Sunday 2/1, and including the title of this post) will win something. If you're a knitter, it will be something out of my stash. If you aren't (or if you are and opt out of yarn, which, whoa, really?), it will be...something else I haven't figured out yet, but I promise it will be good. Unless it isn't. Either way, it will be free, and you won it! Which makes everything better.

Ready? Go!

Best $14.99 I've spent in a while...

So, today, I'm out and about. I went to the Target, apparently to completely forget the list of things I needed and instead focus on trying to find a coffee maker, which I also didn't buy. Anyhow, on the way home, I stopped at the Chick-fil-a (a Southern-ish fast food chicken chain). It's not a place I eat often, but, it'd been a rough morning, and I just was not in the mood to cook when I got home, and I've recently discovered an affection for their wraps, which are also reasonably healthy (nevermind the waffle fries...). So, okay, I'm in the drive-through, and I see this little advert for their holiday gift basket. Which I've seen advertised a few times over the last month, and it looked really funny. But, you know, silly, and unnecessary, and I haven't been able to convince myself it was a worthwhile investment (because...okay, fine, it isn't). But, like I said, rough morning. So I finally gave in. And it made me giggle. And it continues to make me giggle. It's very frivolous, but, perhaps you might also think it worth a giggle.

I expected a little baggie full of stuff, right? And the woman at the register climbs up on her little step stool, and pulls this giant, intricate thing off a shelf. Quite the presentation!

It was huge! Here, a view without the cellophane...

Turns out the whole thing is worked into a drink carrier, and there's a lot of double stick tape involved.

So...okay. Anyone who's known me for a considerable amount of time knows that I used to collect cows. Not entirely on purpose - I liked cows, thought they were cute, and then suddenly every gift I got had a cow theme. I had towels, pictures, magnets, pillows, and more stuffed cows than I knew what to do with (Note to anyone who might be inclined to buy me a gift this year - no! No more cows! No!). But, I've retained a soft spot for the Chick-fil-a cows.

So there's a little stuffed cow, wearing a little sandwich board with the classic slogan, "Eat mor chikin." He's really, really cute. To that end, there's also an "eat more chikin" Pez dispenser (seriously. What could be better than a PEZ dispenser!!), and a cow-head-on-a-stick fan. There's a little cow tumbler. There's also coupons, little mints, and the 2009 "Bovines in Blue" calendar, which features such parodies as Grill Street Blues and BSI:Bovine Scene Investigators. Included in the calendar are monthly coupons for various Chick-fil-a products, of course, but the illustrations are by themselves just all manner of amusing.

I know, I'm a little pathetic...did I mention it's been a rough couple of weeks?

Pink is the new red...er, green...er...blue and silver...er...

Christmas has come to the Pink Office...

Presents.

I came home tonight, and had a padded mailer in my mailbox, and a big Express Mail box on my doorstep. I was excited. The mailer, it turns out, was....odd. It was a book of "poetry" from the Center for the Advancement of Psychotherapy (sketch). They, of course, included a handy postcard telling me where I could mail a donation for the lovely gift they had just sent (even more sketch). The other, however, was from my aunt and uncle (the biological ones) in Chicago, and it was awesome. They sent me the 32-page Commemorative Edition of the Sun-Times Sunday magazine from November 9, entitled, "Obama: A Walk Through History."

Sometimes....my family makes me so proud....

It's funny, actually. My aunt and uncle (my mother's brother) have always been staunch Democrats. My cousins are both ardent Republicans (this makes no sense to me...my older cousin plays bass in a metal band....how can he possibly be a Republican? I think those two are mutually exclusive...). My parents are vehement Republicans (my daddy was not allowed to play with Democrats when he was little, because they were not nice people, according to my grandfather). And you ALL know what a flaming liberal tree-hugger I am. So I think my aunt and uncle are just glad one of us kids turned out to have some political sense.

They also sent me a Target gift card and a very nice card regarding the fellowship I was recently awarded through the PECC (it's a scholarship, really. They call it a fellowship because it sounds snootier). And you know how I always love me an excuse to go to Target.

The appearance of gifts made me slightly anxious, though, because I thought one of them might be from my Secret Santa - my knitting buddies back home are doing a holiday gift exchange, and I got to play along, too. Which was all well and good until this morning, when I realized that the socks I'm knitting for said exchange...um...don't match. And, okay, they're supposed to not match, but not in the way that they currently don't match. And apparently they're due next Friday, i.e., they have to be in Illinois by next Friday. Crap.

Also, a few days ago, my cousin (different cousin. Obama supporter) gave me the Aloha Award on her blog. Here are the rules:

"First, answer this question...If you were stuck on an island, what 5 things would you want to have with you? Then, spread the Aloha! Send this award to 5 other people and let them know they've been given The Aloha Award! That's it, easy peasy! Keep the chain going and spread the aloha all over the blogospshere! (be sure to link to the person that sent you the award...so we can keep the linky love going!)"

(Not Danielle's words, I'm guessing)

(PS - there will be no linky love allowed on my island of stuckness. Stop that! Stop that right now!)

Ahem.

Alright, if I were stuck on an island and given my choice of five things, I would take...

1. My dog. Not only would she be an wonderful companion, and enjoy running off leash (I'm assuming it's a relatively small island. Where's she gonna go?), but if I can learn to spin between now and the time I get stuck on this island, she could be an excellent source of yarn fiber.

2. A laptop with a solid satellite wireless connection (hey, it's my island, back off!)

3. Sunscreen. A lot of sunscreen. Don't make me tell you the story of the last sunburn I sustained in Hawaii.

4. A really good set of knives.

5. Phosphorus matches. Because, I am not patient enough to do the whole flint and steel crap.

And I tag....

Barb
Peng
Angie
Jenn
Allison

Pomaika`i, hoapili.
(Good luck, friends)
(I hope that's what it means...)

Maggie may have to change her name to Toto...

::sigh:: I guess the drought is over....

So the remnants of TS Fay are here (you know, a week after I didn't fly to the coast because the Tropical Storm might ground us. Oh well). It's been raining like a damn monsoon (or, say, a tropical storm) off and on all day. Apparently, there were all sorts of tornadoes around the state today. Or, well, maybe. There are reports. We can't confirm anything. It's possible there were tomatoes spotted across the state today, we may not have the whole story straight.

Sometimes I really miss the Chicago Tribune.

It was sort of funny, though - I went to my psychotherapy supervision this morning, had a nice discussion of my last therapy session with my supervisor (so, I do therapy, and then I go and discuss it with a real therapist, who gives me feedback and makes suggestions and that sort of thing), stopped at the Starbucks and tried to read for this afternoon lectures, made it through part of the readings, couldn't bring myself to finish the CBT stuff, and gave up and came home for a while, because, well, Maggie isn't a big fan of storms. So we hung out, and, I'd left the TV on for her while I was gone today, right, because of all the raining and whatnot. And I'm lying on my bed reading my email and listening to the News 14 Carolina weatherman blather on and on about tornadoes and how deadly they were and that conditions were right and that the NWS was not going to hesitate to continue issuing tornado warnings pretty much on a whim and he felt the need to tell us, you know, the topography here isn't like the Midwest, tornadoes can just pop up all of a sudden... Okay, first of all, I don't know how he knew when he made that last comment that I had just moments prior looked out the window and said, "Nah, it doesn't look like it's going to tornado." But second, here's a tip, Mr. Weather Guy - they sort of just pop up in the Midwest, too. Not out of the clear blue or nothin', but, I'm just sayin'. Anyway, I had to change the channel for her before I left again to go to the hospital for lecture, because he was just way too anxious.

I used to be terrified of tornadoes when I was like, late grade school to high school. Terrified. Like, if there was a single cloud anywhere (and, let's review, I lived in Chicago) I'd get all worried that the day was going to end in disaster. But then, I had a lot of phobias that sprung out of sublimated neuroses back in those days...now, they only really bother me because of the dog. Although Maggie's outgrowing her hatred of thunderstorms, it seems, or at least she doesn't automatically pee all over everything the moment there's a distant rumble of thunder. But still, she's more tolerant of them if I'm here. And while I certainly worry about, you know, her well-being if our house were flattened by a tornado, but I just worry a lot more about her being scared.

Anyhow...one definite positive of the local newspaper's website, even if they can't tell me if there were actual twisters today, is this video. It's a political cartoon spoof of Adam Sandler's Hanukkah song, and it is not to be missed.

Although..........who else is disappointed in Obama for being a Sox fan?

Boxes, Pork, and other double entendres

And so I'm back at Starbucks. I got home from PorkFest at about 3am, drugged the heck out of my recently-sobered-up ass around 4 when I went to bed (because I'm on overnight call tonight, so sleeping in would actually be a huge plus), still woke up at 8:30. Damn it. And honestly? A little hungover this morning. I never get hungover. I'm also never nearly as much of a lightweight as I was last night, although, let me tell you, I was apparently quite amusing...I think it was a combination of not having really eaten all day and being pretty dehydrated from a day of fussing around the house. Oh, and possibly the shot of moonshine (no chaser - Claud, you would've been so proud).

So earlier in the day. my Aunt and I hit the place pretty hard. What we unfortunately didn't do was unpack a single damn box. But we restored a necessary order and organization. You remember the wall to wall boxes in the living room and the inaccessible office? It's better.

The front room actually has furniture in it.


You can make it all the way into the office now. Like, if you need to hook up the cable, or perhaps install a dog door.


I think I neglected to upload the corner that's piled three deep and six high with boxes of books, but, whatever....

We piled all the kitchen stuff on the dining room table, because there's no room for it to happen in the kitchen, but at least you can find the dining room furniture.


The dog continues to find places to hide, though. Can you find Waldo Maggie?


(PS - how much do I love that fireplace?)

Oh my gosh, we went over and Maggie met Sparrow's dog this morning, too. Maxine (the dog) is this tiny little bundle of adorableness. And I'm not an overwhelming fan of tiny dogs, but she's just awesome, and wow, the portability of her is a lot of fun. She and Mags seemed to do okay. Maggie might stay with them tonight while I'm on call, we'll see.


Bedroom's still tiny, but, nicely functional. Still needs screens so I can open the damn windows at night.

The Gardenias are in bloom, though. Aren't they lovely? Notice how I'm not showing you the fancy vase they're in, which is...um...a Starbucks cup...

So after a long day of rearranging what the movers left, I finally showered and put on whatever clothes I could actually locate without looking too grungy, and headed off to Mike's for PorkFest 2008.

Which was a big hit.

Around 40 people showed up, I think, and there was a wide assortment of pork-related dishes.


(Note the centerpiece. He.)

Everyone brought some take on cooked pig. There were pigs in a blanket, pigs' feet, pork tenderloin, collards with fatback, several salad-with-bacon variations, Mike's (in)famous South Georgia Super Bowl dip (still not sure what's in the stuff, but I could mainline it), Mac and Cheese with bacon (i.e., "Fancy Mac 'n' Cheese"), prosciutto with melon, some sort of potato casserole, etc, etc, etc, and a LOT of high quality barbecue.


The overflowing table.


And of course, there were the desserts. I picked up some chocolate bars with bacon in them (actually not bad), and these local cupcakes that still use lard frosting (orgasmic), and the absolute best was Mike's take on the classic Elvis sandwich, which was peanut butter, bananas, Nutella, and...well...bacon, then pan-fried like a grilled cheese. Actually quite, quite good. One of the third years and his girlfriend (who I adore, but hey, she's a chemist) made this awesome cake for one of the fourth years who just graduated and part of the point of this party was to bid him farewell.

It was red velvet cake inside.


Very reminiscent of Steel Magnolias and the scene with Tom Skerrit and Shirley MacLaine and the groom's cake. Ain't nothin' like a good piece of ass.

Hmm. That was an unintentional segue...


I don't know exactly how Mike's window got broken, but we have several very amusing pictures of him trying to fix it...

Overall a good time was had by all. Or at least by most. Sometime after all the kids went home, the moonshine (S'cuse me, corn whiskey) came out, and wow, I haven't been that drunk in a while. Which was a collective problem. Mostly for PenguinShrink, who was on call last night, when we got the brilliant idea to prank call the Crisis Pager.

Oh, poor thing. I'm not sure how exactly I got to be the one doing the calling, but we identified ourselves to the operator as Lola Manlove (which is a surprisingly common last name around here, which we'd been talking about earlier). And she gets on the line and we're all screaming - at one point Mike had the phone and was talking about how his wife wouldn't have sex with him anymore and was she commitable - no, really, folks, we get calls like this - and the whole crowd is yelling, and my pre-assigned part at this point was to stay in the background and yell "Hell, no, I ain't touchin' that itty-bitty thing anymore, you bastard!" Until Mike couldn't keep his composure any longer and handed me the phone, and of course I'm in hysterics and poor Peng was like, "Ma'am, you have to slow down, I can't understand you. You're going to have to calm down, ma'am." Which was when I finally caught my breath and was like "no, no, it's Kate." And there was this pause....and she was like...."Kate, are you drunk?" To which I could only answer..."Yes. A lot." There was another pause, and she says, "Mike has a couch, right?"

I assured her that I could contract for safety for the evening. Meanwhile Mike's in the background yelling "go ahead, try it, commit me!!"

Oh, my God, I can't even tell you how funny we thought we were.

We eventually passed around the phone and hopefully amused both her (note to self...need to call her today....) and the second year she was on call with.

This is the sort of debauchery that happens when you get a bunch of drunken psychiatrists together, my friends.

And fret not, I stayed put until I was good and sobered up, which turned out to be interesting in whole other ways, because I ended up meeting a very different set of Mike's friends (er, his friends' friends?) including one who promises he can do wonders for my hair. I'm so going after this guy because, a, he was such a gentleman and didn't even comment on the length of my roots, and two, Matthew, you know I've always got your back and am looking to find more of the Gays for you. Plus, what sane straight woman passes up a good gay hairdresser? Anyway.

So I'm caffeinated and fed now and feeling a little better. Planning on more or less taking the day off, since I have to be at State Hospital at 8 tonight for overnight call. Maybe there will be a more successful nap involved in my day. And possibly another trip to Target. Back to my routine...I love it.

The best laid plans...

Maggie and I had such plans for today. We were going to sleep in (check). The movers were coming this morning to give us an estimate on packing, moving, and storing. They were very nice, and Maggie really liked the one guy. So I'm using this moving company, right, that's part of a comprehensive rehab program for substance abusers. So these two guys show up, all tattooed ex-badasses, in their ironed chinos and short hair, smelling pleasant and just as polite as can be. They were quick and efficient. And then I had all these great ideas about spending most of the day doing discharge summaries (I'm SOOOOOOO behind) and then starting to weed out stuff that's getting sent off to charity. Because, the house that I'm moving to is about half the square footage of the one I'm currently renting, so, lots has to go. And did I mention we're moving in LESS THAN TWO WEEKS, now?

Ahhhh, well.

I guess the working like 100 hours a week is finally catching up with me. Maggie and I spent the whole day watching Animal Planet and napping on the couch. Like, literally, it was suddenly 7pm and I had finished exactly one d/c summary.


We watched Animal Police, Houston. And Detroit. And, um, Miami (we love Animal Police. I really think Maggie just likes the barking. I like seeing the dogs in their new homes at the end. And Animal Police Miami always has alligators and horses and cool stuff like that). And we watched several episodes of this bizarre reality show, Groomer Has It.

Wow. Such ridiculous drama. But strangely addictive. And hosted by Jai, my absolute favorite Queer Eye guy. And next week they're going to the pound. We may have to watch.

So Jai is dealing with crazy dog groomers (at least he has a cute sidekick messenger dog), and Carson is telling fat girls they look good naked (of course they do). Ah, how the dynasty has...well...gone to the Crab People.


She really does get into some screwball poses to hang out and watch TV.

So now we're watching this very silly show called Showdog Moms and Dads. Which is another ridiculous reality show. Except it's not supposed to be so silly. But...ever see Best In Show? (If you haven't, you really need to.) It's exactly like that. Which...was supposed to be a parody. Oh, dear.

I guess we need to have a useless day every once in a while...

Joy Sunday

No, I don't plan to make it a regular feature, but I missed Love Thursday this week, and Barb started this Rush of Joy meme, so I thought that since I finally had a few moments to sit and write (not that I shouldn't be packing/going to the grocery store/writing discharge summaries/etc/etc/etc), I'd throw in my two cents.

As you all know, it's been a particularly rough patch of late. So I thought this was a good challenge to take up. I went with Barb's original number of 15 because I wasn't sure I could think of 10, so, me being me, I decided that was a reason to aim higher. Because there are a lot of sources of joy in my life. Because I can certainly stand these days to concentrate more on the positive aspects. So...

Fifteen things that bring me joy (in no particular order):

1. Maggie's ears. They're incredibly expressive, very funny, and feel like velvet. I also adore her soft little muzzle, her curious little eyebrows, and her gentle, sweet (and surprisingly slobber-free) puppy kisses. Okay, fine, so generally, my dog melts my guarded little heart.


2. A really good, up-tempo, anthemic-y song, played loudly in my car. You know the ones. Full of energy and hope and you can't help but sing along at the top of your lungs. Or actually, even a song that may not be as adrenaline-inducing, but has really good lyrics that make me ache. And then, like, the songs of my youth (as utterly ridiculous as some of them are. I can't believe I still know all the lyrics to "Ice, Ice, Baby"). So really, lots of songs.

3. The ocean. And it sounds silly, but I'm more partial to the Atlantic than the Pacific. I love the rhythm of waves on the beach, the saline breeze, the ebb and flow of energy that comes with the tides. There's a peaceful fluidity and an expansiveness to life that you can't get anywhere else.


4. That ah-hah! moment when you finally "get it." Kind of regardless of what "it" is, whether the answer to a puzzle, the solution to a problem, or what someone is really saying to you. There's a particular rush in that moment when things click into place and suddenly make sense. You know?

5. Rain. Particularly, a good thunderstorm. I used to be terrified of thunderstorms for a while when I was an adolescent, because I lived in Chicago and thunderstorms occasionally mean tornadoes, and for a while I had this really bad phobia of the unpredictability of tornadoes. I've gotten over it, though, and a good thunderstorm is now one of my favorite things. Rain has a sort of cleansing feeling to me, and I totally love lying in bed all bundled up when there's a little chill in the air and listening to it rain. But I also love the force and tumult of a good thunderstorm. When I'm at home, they also mean that Maggie (who is still not a fan) gets extra cuddly. But, like, the last night we were at the beach for the intern retreat, and there was a tropical storm rolling in, and we sat on the deck and watched just the most impressive light show, and it was one of those storms where the thunder resonates and vibrates your very soul...it was magnificent.


6. That giddy intoxicated feeling you get when you're with good people and can be totally disinhibited and just giggle like a moron at the silliest things.

7. Getting totally engrossed in a good book, to the point that I lose all track of time or my surroundings and it's like the language of the page becomes my very way of thinking, when you're so voracious and can't hardly stand to turn the page for what happens next.

8. Birth. Wow, it's amazing. The whole process is like seeing God. But there's this particular moment when the mother's flesh yields and the baby (who's probably been on the perineum for some time, as long as everyone's tolerating it - including the doctor/midwife - just waiting, stretching, holding, almost there) slides into the world and a new life officially begins. To be witness to that is to touch a small piece of heaven, and is an incredible privilege.

9. Oh, speaking of which...my new nephew.


(Can you just smell that little baby head smell? Oh, I love that.)

And my "old" one.


And the myriad of other small people my friends have brought into the world.

10. The blatant innocence of children. You know those moments, when they're just so pure of heart. There's a reason the word is "unadulterated."

11. The heady intoxication of good yarn fumes. Wool, or alpaca in particular. Oh, man. The smell of baking bread, all warm and yeasty and comforting, is a different high than yarn fumes, but comparable.

12. Being with comfortable people. The ones you can totally be yourself with and know they'll still like you. The ones that you can just let it all hang out and let them see your really good qualities as well as the ones you're not as fond of.

13. Seeing "New Comment on your post..." in the subject line of an email. I seriously live for comments.

14. Dancing. Alone, or particularly with a group of friends at a club or a wedding or something. Where you're not trying to impress anyone, and you can just be free and open and dance like a fat white girl and it's okay.

15. The Chicago skyline at night. It's breathtaking. Why don't I have a picture of that?

All right, your turn. Click on the link above for the meme rules.

Hell's Pass Mental Hospital

(Double bonus points for anyone who gets that. Triple bonus points for anyone who gets that before reading the rest of the post).

I had something to say earlier.......although now I can't remember what. I was...somewhere, here, in the hospital (I'm on call again, big shocker)...and I thought, oh, that's so going on the blog....and now....no clue.

::sigh:: It sucks to be old and sleep deprived.

Oh. It was the EMTALA thing. Yeah, now that I'm not totally mad about it, it doesn't seem so interesting anymore.

Call's been frustrating, but not yet awful. We had a good medical student here during the day. I like my senior a lot, and I've not been on call with her before, but I'm enjoying it. We ordered Mexican food for dinner, and Mike was able to come join us (he's on for Neuro call tonight). He always has good stories. And this woman on the ED unit is having poop issues, which I keep getting paged about (She threw up! She can't poop! She pooped a little! It hurts to poop! She pooped three little hard rock things! Now the poop's like golf balls! Poop! Poop! Poop!), and so we made many inappropriate jokes and Mike whipped out this poop rating scale (no, it's a real diagnostic scale. Honest to God) that one of the medical students had put on a little card for him.

We've giggled way too much about poop tonight. It's like an episode of South Park over here...

Dogs, Drugs, and Dissociation

So, I made it through the week.

Hooray!

Today I haven't done much. Mags and I went to Starbucks this morning to read, but met some other people with a dog and talked to them for a while. Their dog was named Ally and she was this German Shepherd that was a little bit bigger than Mags. She wasn't well socialized, so we all stayed sort of wary, but she did pretty well with Mags. They were well socialized, though, and we had a very nice chat. After they left to go take Ally to the lake (apparently she likes the lake. Aww), they were replaced by a weird middle aged swarthy gentleman who was rattling along on is cell phone in what I can only guess was Lebanese. He was a little leery, and kind of creepy, so we left shortly after that. And I really haven't done a whole lot since we got home except nap, and read a little, and nap some more.

I still haven't started packing, although I think I did hire a mover. They haven't actually looked at the house yet, and we've mostly been playing phone tag, but they have availability the day I want to move, and I decided a few weeks ago that I wanted to use them. They're allegedly quite good and really cheap, but the more important thing (I think) is that they're an offshoot company of a treatment center for substance abusers. It's at least a two year commitment, I think, and you have to be clean - really clean - for the first year you're in residence before they'll let you work at any of their businesses. And the moment you slip up, you're out. But it's a fantastic second (or third, or eighth, or fiftieth) chance, a good honest living, and a great opportunity. For all parties involved.

Maybe if they're really as cheap as their rates on the website, I'll even let them pack me up. Because, let me tell you how quickly that's going over here.

I'm so tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally, metaphorically.

At least, as the week came to a close, I actually started to enjoy work a little bit. Like, I can at least appreciate how interesting this all is and think about how it might connect into adult pathology. The stuff that I find so fascinating in adulthood, it starts right here. The kids are interesting. Also still scary. But I've been able to separate the fact that I'm living in hell from the patients and the units. Not that the hell has really abated, just, it's not their fault. It's activating, what I'm doing, but it's activating my stuff. My stuff that's got to get dealt with eventually. So maybe the stimulation is good.

Which is unfortunate, because it feels like shit.

It's a hard feeling to articulate. It feels like I'm walking in one reality, and living in another. Another that no one else can see. It's very weird...and a little Joss Whedon, frankly.

The elusive kit-tays

So, like I said, CFR has four cats. Which is a lie, actually. She kind of has five. Interestingly, they all showed up last night.

So, first, I found Jasper, whom I hadn't seen all week and was a little worried that she might be dead under the bed or trapped in a closet somewhere. But then I walked into Rach's bedroom last night, and poof, there she is.

I also managed to get a snapshot of the elusive Chloe. She's a bit of a scaredy cat...

And then, wonder of wonders, I let Simon and Garfunkel out, and sitting there is Rachel's friend Nancy's cat. Nancy stayed here for a while while she got on her feet, and this cat, whose name I've totally forgotten, decided she liked it here better, so when Nancy left, kitty stayed. She's exclusively an outdoor cat, but has food and water and a cat condo out on the front porch.

So not only did I get pictures of all the cats who were greatly theoretical to this point, I also got a couple of really rather funny pictures.

First, Jabba the Cat...

...and a curious Garfunkel kitteh....

He he.

Today was nice. My favorite attending is back for my last two days on Psychotic. Hooray. Poor PenguinShrink has the plague, though. We keep dousing her in Purell, but somehow she's still sick...

Alright. Time to go let the puppies in and go to bed, as very, very sad as that is at this early hour. But Mags and I have already been snoozing on the bed for a while "watching" CSI, so I think I'm just going to give it up, since I'm on call tomorrow anyway...

Meme-meme-meme-meme-meeeeeme.....

Oh, such a long, long day. I have eight patients. I managed to write one note. Oy. So I still have seven to do, and I've got a migraine, and all I really want to do is nap, and whine.

So instead, I'll do this little meme from my cousin Danielle instead.

What I was doing 10 years ago:

Hmm. I'm not sure I remember 10 minutes ago just now. Um, what was that, 1998? I was a sophomore in college. So I was taking O-chem and thinking about joining a sorority I would shut down two years later and being told I shouldn't even apply to medical school by my advisor (Had I ever thought about podiatry?) and falling in love with the asshole I'd become involved with over the coming year, and generally, hating life.

Five things on my to-do list today:
1. Actually make it to work (done)
2. Go to C/L conference (done)
3. Go to department lunch (done)
4. Go to Grand Rounds (didn't make it)
5. Write all my notes (Yeah, so I went back and finished those)

Snacks I enjoy:
1. Clementines
2. Frosted mini wheats.
3. Most things chocolate
4. Nachos
5. Cookies

Things I would do if I were a billionaire:
1. Start a foundation for survivors of sexual abuse and assault
2. Open my own multi-disciplinary treatment center somewhere down the road (you know, like after I'm board certified)
3. Buy a house on a big lot with a fence and a fireplace and hardwood floors and a nice big kitchen
4. Adopt like eight other dogs
5. Pay off all my damn debt

Five of my bad habits:
1. Not taking the best care of myself.
2. My housekeeping skill (okay, not really the lack of skills, but the lack of priority)
3. Internalizing way too many things
4. Not checking my mail very often
5. Picking at my nails, which are already flaking and bad enough
6. Not actually tagging people for memes (Consider yourself tagged)

Five places I have lived:
1. LaGrange IL
2. Aurora IL
3. Valparaiso IN
4. Lebanon NH
5. Cary NC

Echoes

Well, I think it's good news.

You know how Pedigree has been running these pro-adoption commercials? You know how awesome I think that is. And you know I think shelter mutts are the best. dogs. EVER. Doesn't get any better. So, a while ago, they aired this commercial. Broke my heart. I almost went out and adopted a second dog every single time I saw it. Possibly made me cry once when I was postcall.



But then today? I saw this:



Yay, Echo! He looks so darn cute and happy, doesn't he? Look at that tail! And that big puppy grin.

Shelter dogs really are the coolest.

It wouldn't be so funny if it wasn't dead-on true....

I had dinner at PenguinShrink and Chef's tonight. The food was wonderful, the company was delightful, and I haven't had that much wine in a long time (but it paired so well, so what could I do?). Plus, Chef showed me this. Watch. Laugh. Enjoy. Perhaps forward on to all the anesthesiologists you work with (ahem, Mom).



There'll be a substantive post tomorrow, I promise.

I cannot go to work today....

A little classic poetry from my youth, by Shel Silverstein. It just sort of sums up how I'm feeling this morning....


"I cannot go to school today"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay.
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry.
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox!
And there's one more - that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue,
It might be the instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke.
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in.
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My toes are cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There's a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is ...
What? What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is .............. Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

Wired

I have had way too much caffeine today.

But at least I've been productive. I left the hospital, went and picked up the Maggie, and then we stopped at Starbucks. I came home, loaded the dishwasher, swore at the Treo for a while, and then gave up and went to Circuit City, where I hemmed and hawed and was very indecisive for a very long time about what navigator to get. Then I went to the grocery store, stopped and got lunch, came home, took the trash out, swore at the Treo some more, and now, I'm babbling on here. Good times.

Someone said to me, back when I got the VZNavigator on my phone, if you get the navigator, you'll never learn your way around. I said, nonsense. I'll just not get as lost when I do get lost. But I'll know the town just as quickly. It'll be fine.

Now I say, alright, fine, shut up.

I lasted three days, and one of those days I was on call. I got so rip-roaring lost on Friday coming back from lunch downtown that it was ridiculous. Especially considering there was another physician with me, who also works there, who didn't know where the hell we were, either. And "downtown" is neither that big nor that far from the hospital. For all the IQ points in that car on Friday, I'm just sayin'. But alas, no. The only reason we didn't get lost on the way to lunch was because I was following Mike, who, a, gets out more than I do so he knows his way around "out" better than I, and 2, lives four blocks from the restaurant, so, he really ought to know where it is.

So, adding to the gadgetopolous in which I live, came the TomTom.

There was much wailing and gnashing of teeth over this vs the Magellan. Because I can talk to the Magellan. And the sales guy thought it was easier to use overall. But I couldn't get into the interface, and I really like the look of the TomTom maps. And I got the stripped down version, because I concluded that was really all I needed. But, like, it couldn't find the grocery store. So I ended up googling the Fresh Market on my Treo and then entering the address into the TomTom and feeling a little like the bionic woman. Especially now that I've taken to wearing both my phone and my pager on my hip (because I'm not leaving anything as expensive as the Treo in the pocket of my labcoat). I'm wired for sound, baby.

And I had immediate buyer's remorse as soon as I took the TomTom out of the package. D'oh, I should've gotten the Magellan! Except that this was all triggered by my inability to find the Fresh Market, and who's to say that that Magellan would've been able to find it, either?

Once I gave it the address, though, it did find it. And I fulfilled what's become my Sunday routine...go to the Fresh Market when it opens, buy produce and yogurt and other random (usually impulsive) things, then go to the Char-Grill next door, and get a very yummy burger for me with mustard and onions and a plain cheeseburger for the pup. Today's burger was especially good, and they have the best fries in town. I also made three particularly good finds at the FM. One was vanilla chai, which has become my new addiction at the hospital coffee shop. I also discovered that my new favorite wine also comes in a red, and the other...oh my gosh....I was in the cheese section, getting shredded Parmesan to go with the salad fixin's, and I saw this little half-pint deli container with a really white, softer looking shredded cheese, and I thought, huh, I wonder what kind of Parmesan that is....but it wasn't. It was...are you ready for it? Mizithra! Which is this dry, salty Greek cheese that I could live on. No, really, a little butter and some Mizithra on pasta is the best thing going. It's the food of the gods, I'm telling you, Athena herself invented that dish. It has to be new this week, because I look for it pretty much every time I go past their cheese counter. And there it was! I let out an audible gasp in the middle of the cheese section this morning when I discovered it. There may even have been a Mizithra dance. I'm telling you, this is exciting news. Especially after having conquered the TomTom to get there in the first place.

If I could figure out how to sync the effing Treo, by the way, I'd show you a picture of the TomTom taken with the Treo. Because I thought that was funny. But, alas, I still can't get the laptop to talk to the phone. It was a fluke, one-time deal, apparently. At least it worked long enough for me to load a couple good pictures of my dog onto the phone, so I could show her off at lunch Friday.

Technology is my friend...

Lunch, as an aside, was very nice though. Sarah took Mike and me (Betsy was post-call) out for Thai food to celebrate our surviving the past two weeks (the attendings rotate off service after two weeks, so we'll have a new attending tomorrow. I'm hoping this mellows Betsy out, but, none of us are optimistic). It was very pleasant. The food was excellent, we had a very good time, it was very laid back, and I still left early. Very nice. Plus, Sarah and I have intentions for a doggie play date shortly. She has two dogs, one who she picked up at the roadside after he got hit by a car - a German Shepherd who's probably about twice Maggie's size - and a Leonberger she rescued from the shelter who was so little when she brought him home that he used to sleep in the cats' bed...he's now close to 200 lbs, and he's not done growing. He gets his head stuck in the cat bed now because he doesn't realize he doesn't fit there anymore. He barely fits in her car. I can't wait to meet this big furry mountain.

Those two are going to terrify Maggie, though. She likes cats and little dogs. Unlike my old dog, Wolfie, who was this ninety pound Husky-Akita mix and had a heartbreaking, pining crush on the 125-lb older-than-God German Shepherd next door, Bob. Wolf would run over to the fence when Bob was out and just watch him, awed, tail wagging like crazy. And then he'd look over his shoulder at me all excited, like, "It's Bob! Do you see? Do you see?? Oh, Kate, it's Bob, it's Bob!!" But he'd never bark, and he never dared actually approach Bob, who, incidentally, was this very sweet, toothless, grumpy-old-man kind of dog. No, my dog was a groupie.

Bob died shortly after Wolfie did. And then the big mean old Rottie they had got stomach cancer or something (I told my neighbor, it was probably someone he ate), and he was put down. So shortly after Mags arrived, they got this very obnoxious pit bull puppy. Maggie and Kedzie, my roommate's dog (who's like 13 now or something and is a TOTAL grumpy old man) were both sort of like, what the hell did you bring him here for?

The best Wolf story, ever, though, was when one day we were out for a walk. And these six little rat dogs come tearing out of the house down the block, like, in formation, barking and snapping and squealing and they start circling Wolf, nipping at him, barking, huffing, growling. And Wolfie, bless his little poochy heart, stops, and looks down at these little knee-high (to him) annoyances with this quizzical look on his face. And then he calmly looks up at me, completely baffled, like, "Dude. Really. What the hell are these things?" And he kind of watches them for a minute (in contrast to his owner, who's flailing about yelling "Get out of here! Go! Go! Stupid little shit dogs, get!") and then looks at me again like, "These things are stupid, and noisy. Can I eat one?" Fortunately, their owner happened to notice about then that they were missing and called them back into the house. And he - I'm so not kidding - watched them go back into the house, looked at me, shook his head, and then started back down the road towards our house. I totally would've let him eat one.
That's my Wolfie. He was such a good boy.

Well, Mags and I are going to go spend some quality time napping, and then there more dishes to be done and laundry as well and I still have two discharge summaries to write up. Mi vida loca...

"For someone who hates psychology, she sure has a lot of it."

It's one of my favorite quotes from the pilot episode of Bones, which is on tonight. And it's so true. I'd forgotten what a grumpy, cocky "cop" Booth was in the pilot. I'm glad he got over it. And I really like that Booth is all angsty, thoughtful, pining for a woman he can't have, again, except he has so much more depth in his thoughtful pining angst than Angel ever did. And Boreanaz is even cuter in the daylight.

Today was long again. Not quite as stressful, partly because I'd planned on going to SNB tonight at the local Borders, and the dog sitter came during the day. Needless to say, I didn't make it to knitting. I only left two patients of mine on our service, but, we're admitting tonight. I, truly, was done with my work at 2pm. But I left after 7. Because there was rounding and then this and then that and oyyy. And then one of my patients got sicker. So I stuck around for another hour fussing so Mike wouldn't have to. And I tied up his patient into a neat little package for discharge. It was a favor but you survive this life on favors-both the ones you get, and the ones you give. And no, I don't expect him to stay nearly this late when, starting next week, I'm the call girl du jour. Although....okay, maybe I will expect him to reciprocate on the post-call coffee I'm bringing him in the morning....

Because there is simply nothing better than a hot post-call beverage of choice from outside the hospital. It's that warm, little comforting cup of hope that the free world still exists somewhere outside the sterile and stagnant confines. Okay...there is one thing better...the post-call nap. Preferably a post-call nap with a warm dog or some other snuggly warm mammal.

I'm babbling again. I have a really sick patient I spent of a lot of today fussing over. I'm still really tired. Oy....I'm going to turn off House, which is now on because Bones got all solved and done with, and go to bed. But, after this:

"Treating illness is why we became doctors. Treating people is what makes most doctors miserable." It's a quite from tonight's House which more or less illustrates why I don't usually watch House. But....I will give him a tremendous amount of credit for this one:

"It's five o'clock. I'm going home."

Well, I don't know how useful it is, but at least there are pictures

I'm feeling better. I did a little yoga. I haven't done good, real yoga in at least two years, or almost any in well over a year. It wasn't my best session ever, technically speaking, but oh, it was so cleansing. So need to do this for real.

I've got to join a real gym. Not the little treadmill room at my apartment. Not my silly hodge-podge collection of DVDs and a punching bag and a cheap-ass rowing machine in my apartment. I need a gym. With people and classes and without the Chicago gym attitude and I need a personal trainer.

To whom I'm likely going have to sell my body in order to afford any of it.

Hmm.

I did make it to the grocery store today. I even bought wine. Mostly because of the label.

You know, it's probably not what you think, though. Look more closely at the label, you perverts. It was the name of the winery that sucked me in, up there, in French, above the two dancing figures:

Folie a deux.

Literally, it means the misstep or derangement in a pair, but there's a much fuller meaning implied. In psychiatry, we define folie a deux as a shared psychosis. Like, I'm so crazy, I pull you into my craziness, so that you also exhibit features of my craziness.

If you think about it, this isn't as rare as it seems. It's more a question of extremes.

Also, yes, I'm a sucker for wine that makes references to psychoneurotic phenomena. And it turns out, the wine's pretty good. There will be more in my wine rack. I can find my (empty) wine rack.

What I can't find is my wine glasses. So, I made do with the cup that came with lunch.

Classy, eh?

Don't worry, I didn't even come close to filling it. But you want to see something even classier? I totally broke the cork trying to pull it out. So the fun wine is now being stored in this bottle instead...

Yeah, there used to be spaghetti sauce in that. Super classy.

I also bought fresh strawberries and fresh baked poundcake.

Mmmm, so good. So utterly good.

I think, ultimately, what's going on with the dynamic of our Family Med team is something of a folie a deux (quatre?). It's just a wine inspired thought, but I think it also might be quite a useful piece of insight. Tomorrow will be an interesting anthropological evaluation of that...

Speaking of which, I have six patients to round on in the am, according to the list. Before 7:30, so Betsy can interfere with my thought process and flow before formal rounds even occur.

Sat nam...sat nam.......om..........

Merry Christmas, y'all

Happy Christmasolistikwanzakah.

And in the Christmas spirit, I give you two things. My very favorite Christmas song, a Dar Williams classic...



...and a bit of holiday amusement, via Penguinshrink.

Christmas Carols for the Mentally Ill

* 1. Schizophrenia --- Do You Hear What I Hear?

* 2. Multiple Personality Disorder --- We Three Kings Disoriented Are

* 3. Dementia --- I Think I'll be Home for Christmas

* 4. Narcissistic --- Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me

* 5. Manic --- Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Buses and Trucks and Trees and.....

* 6. Paranoid --- Santa Claus is Coming to Get Me

* 7. Borderline Personality Disorder --- Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire

* 8. Personality Disorder NOS --- You Better Watch Out, I' m Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell You Why

* 9. Attention Deficit Disorder --- Silent night, Holy oooh look at the Froggy - can I have a chocolate, why is France so far away?

* 10. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - - - Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle,Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells


Wishing you the happiest of holidays - whichever ones you celebrate - and good mental health.

There's only one word for this...

It's bliss.

(Missed the reference? Click here.)

And, try not to notice that the hot chocolate is in a Duke mug. It's the only one I have clean. And, it was a gift from the PA student I worked with back in August, so I actually use it quite frequently.

The sock is the second of my dad's pair of Birthday/Christmas socks, which, okay, still probably not going to finish by Christmas, considering I'm on call this weekend. And there's no way humanly possible that my mom's gift will be finished. And my best friend's? A pipe dream, involving lots of yarn that may or may not already be in balls and a pattern I'm not at all sure I can find.

Yeah, I'm not sending out Christmas Cards this year, either. I'd been hopeful, at one point, but...no.

So the chocolate in the mug is actually kind of exciting. It's Starbucks drinking chocolate. Which has been gone from their menu for a while, and I wasn't that excited about in the first place, but now it comes in chunks in bag at Target. You microwave a little milk with a couple spoonfuls of chocolate chunks, stir it up into a mocha syrup (you know, what you add to coffee to make a mocha), basically, then add more milk, and zapp-o, kickass hot chocolate. So good.

Although....you know, I think I kind of like my Ghirardelli double cocoa powder a little better. And it's lower maintenance. Mmmm, what a sweet dilemma.