Doing something blue

(Darn it, the heads got cut off! Anyway, this is the logo for DSB.)

Went and got my hair done today. Marvelous and easy drive up to Glendale.

Afterwards drove out to San Marino for a Do Something Blue dance.

Tracy lead the lesson, with Melissa as the follow. Lots of really good information and technique. And I liked how Tracy kept reiterating that it was just a dance. Seems as if some new dancers get the feeling that because they are dancing with someone so closely, that their partners must necessarily feel some romantic attachment. Not that I deny that it can happen, but it's generally a good thing to talk to the person one has romantic feelings for, as opposed to stalk them on the dance floor.

During the lesson I danced a couple of times with That Tall Asian Guy. TTAG is tall, asian, slightly older, very stiff, and always creeps me out a bit. Maybe because he physically reminds me of my father. Maybe because he always comes on a little strong. Maybe it's the overpowering cologne. Maybe it's because I think he thinks he's better than he actually is. I don't know. For whatever reason, I don't really like to dance with him. Which is unfair, because, deep down, I do think that he means well, and is probably just insecure. And it's not like he's creepy in the blatant manner of Dead Fish Guy.

Did manage to get some dances in with Arthur and Arnold ... both amazing blues dancers. And talked some with LitheOne (who I met at Gwynn's party) and some other fun (and also little) asian girl. We commiserated about Dead Fish Guy. Creepy. Even more so now. Before, he usd to plaster his hair to his head in imitation of Nick. Now it seems as if he's decided that more is more, and is growing his locks out. But even more than the hair ... it's the inappropriateness of him. Inappropriate dips, drops, lifts and leans. Creepy hand gestures. Always searching for young asian women. And (per report) inappropriate touching. Creepy. I generally dance with anyone who asks, but whenever he's around, I always find something else to do to signify that I cant' dance the current song.

Also talked some with Sheri. Didn't know that she worked as a physical therapist. Turns out that she regularly works with one of the more spectacular patients that came through my work. When she mentioned the name, I immediately knew who it was, even though it's been almost five years since the admission. Will have to report back to the old-timers at work on the progress. Most of the time I eschew talking on the dance floor. Really, what can be said in a couple minutes that can be worth exploring when there's music blasting in the background? But everyonce in a while I click with a person or topic that merits going beneath the surface, and this was one of them.

Rainy day in LA

It rained today. First time in a long time. And ordinarily I would not find it remark-able enough to write about here. Except that I had to drive out to Glendale and Pasadena today. And a little bit of rain was enough to ruin my plans.

Perhaps I should explain. California is the Sunshine State. Especially in Los Angeles, we are unused to such oddities of precipitous weather patterns. So it is that, when water actually falls from the heavens, it is An Event. Romantic people with the penchant to be wet go out for long walks in the rain. Those with more of an inclination for sunshine await the day when the rain had gone, and we can all enjoy cleansed air for a few days. Hikers rejoice because the trails will be slightly less dusty, and the views from local mountains will be lovely. And those who drive (read: everyone) start panicking.

Angelenos just don't know how to drive in the rain. Besides creating pools of water over which hydroplaning is possible, our window wipers are just not used to such vigorous activity. When it rains, Angelenos who are used to activating their window wipers solely to clear off the morning dew, are generally loathe to find out that the black, previously flexible plastic has been baked into adobe by the constant sunshine, and is relatively useless at swiping away the rain on a leisurely drive down the freeway. And I do mean leisurely. What could be more leisurely than 10 mph eastbound on the 10?

So, there I was. Having left a little late for my 1700 hair appointment. Creeping along the 10 freeway. At 1650, it became blindingly clear that I wasn't going to make my appointment, seeing as it was in Glendale, and I had yet to transition to the 110, I made the call to Shears and explained my predicament. Relieved to find that she could take me the next afternoon. She was also relieved, because that meant she could leave early to prepare for her dinner party. So, we were relieved all around. And no, I didn't just turn around and go home. What, and waste the 45 minutes I'd already paid to the jealous freeway gods? No, I continued with my tribute, and made my way up to Pasadena for a night of terrific dancing.

Left Lindy Groove at midnight after the closing song. And serenely made my way home through the clean air and empty freeway. Aaaaaahhhhh ...

Neutral night at the temple

Attended the temple tonight. Interesting event because it was directed at women. President White spoke specifically to the women of the stake in the chapel session. I didn't find what he said very empowering, but neither did I find it belittling. At one point he told a rather touching story of a Relief Society president who worked hard to be in touch with the sisters in her charge. One morning, after making a batch of cookies, she had an impression to visit a particular sister in her ward. Immediately following her instincts, she popped over with a plate of cookies, and had a nice chat. Come to find out later that the sister she visited had been very depressed recently, and had had a mouthful of pills in her mouth when the RS president rang the doorbell. After having the chat, the visited sister (having spit out the pills to answer the door) found the courage to talk to her husband about what was troubling her. President White was obviously touched by this story, and had tears in his eyes when he told it. I found the idea moving, but thought that it was such a pity that the marriage relationship between the man and wife had deteriorated to the point that she couldn't discuss her problems with him, and that he had failed to notice that there was anything wrong.

Anyway, as I said, it was an event directed at the women, although there were also men in attendance. I found that President White also followed the pattern of talking to the women as if we were to be the salvation of the men in the church. How we are so much more spiritual. How men cannot reach the celestial kingdom without us. How we can have such a wonderful effect on the world as righteous and loving mothers. All the pat (and paternalistic and patriarchal) themes that generally have the effect of empowering me to let my mind wander to other topics. And yet, as noted in the title of this piece, it was a rather neutral night for me. I wonder if it had anything to do with President White's relative youth ... that he is not as deeply entrenched with the whole "protect and provide" rhetoric that I hear so often from men in the church. Or that he was recently the bishop of a thriving student ward, where wives often are the sole support of their husbands, or at least equally yoked by school. Anyway, for whatever reason, his talk rested lightly on me.

The Payoff

Every once in a while, when I've had a not-very-stressful day at work, I do something crazy. Like agree to do a double or triple shift. Yesterday was one of those days. A couple of nurses had stayed over from the night before, and some came in early, in the afternoon, to help cover the unit ... every bed full, the ED back-logged, and OR cases being held in the PACU until we could move more patients to the floor. So I wasn't surprised when Mon asked for nurses to stay over. And I was prepared. Twenty hours. Mine had been a relatively easy day, although my assignment did double up after the first twelve hours. But that's fair, as I was earning double time plus the night-shift differential. More money in my pocket for Paris.

However, my pay-off came early. At about 0200, when I came back from break, a little droopy-eyed (and you thought this was impossible for Asians?), Topsy came over and donated a blissful ten minutes to dissolving the knots in my shoulders with her thumbs and elbows. Or at least I thought those were her elbows. Maybe she just has really strong thumbs. Pressure, but good pressure. Enough to move the chair a few inches. I wanted to swivel the chair around so that she could have better access, but I didn't want to disrupt the flow. Anyway, I felt the knots when she found them. Then I felt them pop and dissolve. And then I felt good.*

AC took report from me a little early. And so it was that I was on the road home at 0300, and in bed by 0330. Until I woke up at my customary 0600. And felt the knots ... again. Oh well. C'est la vie.

*Fred the Man continues to assert that PICU nursing is really stressfull. Not as stressful as managing a family restaurant in the Austrian Alps, but less stressful than managing a family restaurant in the Austrian Alps under the watchful gaze of family. I don't know. I don't think my work stresses me out unduly. It can be difficult, but I tend to leave work at work. Otherwise I write it up here and let it go. Maybe it's just that I realize that while I do good work, it isn't incumbent upon me to be there for good work to be done. I contribute a lot, but I'm not the lynchpin. Or rather, I don't feel guilty about taking a "mental health" day when I need it. Or just plain want it.

Simple Pleasures

Cramming in as many dances as possible before 2230 on Thursday, because I had to work on Friday and Saturday.

My pulmonary hypertension patient (who's listed for a lung transplant) getting her wish "made" ... a laptop with printer, headphones, videocam, dvd's, creative software, etc etc. I love the Make a Wish Foundation.

Lunch in the garden of my work with Socrates on a sunny Saturday.

Chatting with Wry-an. Whipper-snapper. Afterwards, reading over some recent chats with friends ... smile on my face.

Good news from my Relief Society president. I feel like I'm helping things to change. Good news in the next few months.

Lunch with my visiting teacher. I'm not the easiest woman to visit teach, but she keeps coming back.

Singing in the ward choir. I'm an out-of-practice alto. Even with practice, I'm not very good. But I enjoy it.

Reading LDS feminist blogs. Exponent II and Zelophehad's Daughters. I don't always agree. And sometimes the hecklers are really irritating. But I love to read what these amazing contributors write.

Coming home and playing a knock-down game of Catan. I didn't win. But I was a contender, with two metropoli.

Finding out about Pho-Siam.I've been craving Thai massage ever since I stepped on the plane to leave Thailand a few years ago. Aaaahhhhhh ...

Running my fingers through my almost-dry hair.

Life is good.

Celebrating Valentine's

Valentine's Day. Also known as Single Awareness Day. Also known as Yet Another Commercial Holiday To Celebrate In One Day That Which Should Be Celebrated Every Day. There have been times when I have felt like this ...



However, this is not one of those years. This year, although quiet, has been very nice.

Took Spork out to dinner last night. As part of his continuing research on Ramen shops, we tried Chabuya on Sawtelle. Nice atmosphere. Yummy croquettes. Toppings on the ramen were delicious, but the actual ramen noodles were a bit eclectic for my taste. And almond jello. Grilled him on everything. Climbing the ladder at work ... exciting things on the horizon. Fitness. Love life. Travel plans. Personal financial plans. Actually, grilling may be overstating the case. He's so excited about so many things that the information flowed like lava. Some big sisterly advice. I'm just so happy to see him with so many good options.

Finished cleaning out the stuff in the garage. Everything but the extra set of dishes that I hope to loan to Bork and Genie this summer.

Went with Wonder Woman to see Music and Lyrics. And I can emphatically recommend that you NOT see it. Yeaaaahhhh, it was really awful. But I did a room-mate-ly thing for Valentine's, and what can be more ubiquitous than seeing a romantic comedy on VD? To make up for the absolute loss of 96 minutes of our lives, we went and got food from Clementine's.

Received several electronic Valentine's cards from friends near and far.

Won at Catan last night. Okay, okay ... not central to Valentine's, but it made me feel really good.

And my first ever regular mail-delivered Valentine. Cards and letters in the mail seem so nostalgic and yet even more real. Reminds me of the letters I would write back in college, back before I got my first email account. Choosing stationary. Writing ... splaying my thoughts and feelings onto paper in my own hand. Addressing, stamping and sending my letter across the land like a messenger bird. Waiting for a reply. The pricks of joy at finding "real mail" mixed in with the bills and advertisements. Repeating the whole cycle. And as much as I love the immediacy and documentation of gmail, it just doesn't compare with the simultaneously earthy and heavenly sensations of real mail.

Anyhow, this Valentine's has been a collection of small celebrations. And instead of feeling like the guy at the vending machine, I feel more like this ...

Good day with intermittent ridiculous spots

Woke up early … again. 0500. Tiptoed into the living room to watch some tv. But I forgot something in my bedroom, and as I tiptoed back in, JLITH was coming out of the bathroom. Ridiculous to both be awake when there was no where to be. JLITH fell asleep watching HGTV, and I crept back into bed for some more reading.

Went out for some more Vitamin D at 0830. Walked and talked in the mild sunshine that’s peculiar to Los Angeles winters. Got over to Clementine’s, and realized I’d forgotten my wallet.

Returned to apartment and drove over to The Massage Company for our 1000 appointments. A deep tissue massage for me, with Lupe; and a Swedish massage for JLITH, her very first ever professional massage. Since Lupe knew me, she had me go back and get ready while JLITH was finishing the new client form. Sixty minutes later, some pretty intense knots having been worked loose, I emerged into the bright foyer to find JLITH perusing a magazine.

“So, how was it?”
‘Well … Lisa just got here ten minutes ago.’
“What?!?!?!?!”
‘Apparently there was some family emergency. And she just got here.’
“Are you kidding me? And she didn’t start your massage immediately?”
‘Well, we’ve got all that other stuff to do. And you can get 50% off the next time you come.’
“But the whole point of coming was to get you a massage!”

And so on. Huge disappointment. Lisa is blackballed in my mental filofax for not notifying the office until 1030 that she was going to be late, not arriving until 1050, and not starting immediately on JLITH. Suzie always taught us that if you’re going to be 10 minutes late, to always call ahead. It’s the polite thing to do.

Day got better after that. Drove out to the Third Street Promenade. Parked and walked down to the end of the pier because JLITH wanted to see Big Wave Jump Jump. Something so exceptionally soothing about large bodies of blue water. Lunch at La Salsa.

Back at the apartment, I jumped in the shower while JLITH indulged in some more home decorating shows. Was so relaxed after my shower that I indulged myself with a short nap. Or was it a long nap? Anyway, we left for the homestead later than I’d anticipated. No time for a Franklin Store visit. Got home with about 10 minutes for changing and primping before I had to leave for Arcadia.

Speakeasy moved the week before to the Arcadia Blue’s Café. The only thing I’d heard is that the floor was small, but that didn’t seem like a large impediment, especially since the Derby has a front dance floor the size of a handkerchief. Arrived just about on time, and pretty soon Socrates rambled down the street to join me.

Xray and Katherine taught a beginning blues lesson. Interesting to see how they explain the technique, since I’ve never really taken a “blues” class. Socrates picked up the material easily, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. And then Teddy Lee Hooker was playing, and his fabulous sound was filling the space. And it quickly became apparent that this venue was drastically different than Yesteryears. The crowd moved and swayed, but stayed glued to their seats. It was the queerest thing … like the time Wonder Woman, White Boy and I went to see Big Bad Voodoo Daddy at the House of Blues. The band was putting out tune after tune of fabulously danceable music, and people just didn’t dance. Incredibly bizarre. There was one older couple who danced everything from west coast swing, to rhumba and cha-cha. And there a pair of girls who danced with each other and a smattering of random guys. But even Xray and Katherine didn’t dance much. Socrates and I danced a bit, but I didn’t want to push him to dance a lot in front of a crowd, since I know it can be uncomfortable.

Did one fast song with Xray, and I queried him about the transition from Pomona to Arcadia. Sad to say, turns out that one lindy dancer had been very disappointed in the venue, and sent around a mass email saying that ABC was awful, and that lindy dancers shouldn’t waste their time. Ouch. So incredibly short-sighted and mean-spirited. I felt bad for Xray, since he’s put so much effort into building a blues dance community here.

Coco Montoya was the headliner band of the night. I didn’t think it could get much better than TLH, but Montoya was amazing on the guitar. I would love to hear him again, especially when he isn’t hobbled by a sore throat.

So, Speakeasy. Yes, I’d still recommend it. The lessons are well done. The bands are amazing. Food and drinks are available. And people can dance if they have a partner with them, and the moxie to dance in front of a bunch of non-dancers (not that I think ND’s care at all). So, if anyone is itching to dance on a Saturday night, and you’ve got some friends to bring along, I’d recommend the Speakeasy. And even if you’ve only got one friend, I’d still recommend it. Especially if the company is as congenial as … well, you know who.

(Career) Woman Interrupted

I posted this over at X2 today. Some interesting responses so far. The thing is, I don't know how I would react to being a stay at home mother. Would I love it? Would I tear my hair out? Would working one day a week be enough to keep my sanity if I started to lose my grip? I don't know. And I'm not entirely convinced that I can know until I'm actually facing the situation head on. Of course, this is all academic. I'm still single. I have no children. And I seem to constantly be looking for ways to cut back on my hours at work. But I take comfort in the fact that there are many different answers to the question of how to balance family and work. And that even a man as traditional as my father was able to carefuly listen when my mother approached him with her issues, and that they were able to find a solution together.

Hairy issues

I walk into my bathroom and sigh. And stoop. And sweep … the hair that seems to fall in greater volume as I go to greater lengths. And the big question rears its ugly head. To chop or not to chop?

I tend to be bipolar with my hair. I think it’s my sister’s fault. Up until I was five years old, I had relatively long hair. Which my mother would comb into precisely parted ponytails or braids, and even curl on special occasions. However, when my sister arrived on the scene, I suddenly found myself a shorn girl … a la Dorothy Hamill. Apparently taking care of three children took precedence over my personal beauty issues. Anyway, Hamill-esqe hair is cute and fine as long as you’re doing tightly spinning turns on the ice, but not so much for those of us more cement-bound people. Although I do have some vague memories of spending a lot of time spinning around … whether to get the most out of my haircut, or to get that delicious, almost-falling-to-the-ground-unbalanced sensation, I don’t remember.

The intervening years have been a confused cycle of growing my hair out, then chopping it off on a whim (or when I got tired of sweeping ... or pulling it out of my vacuum's rollers). Not that I’ve ever gone to extremes … never past the mid back, or shorter than a typical boy haircut from the 80’s. Sometimes I think I just like figuring out ways to adjust to it as it grows out.

I spend an embarrassing amount of money on my hair (but Shears is really talented). I figure it’s worth it to get it cut well … good cuts last longer, and grow out better. Plus, it’s better for my ahem personal beauty issues. I go back and forth on the highlights. Every few years I tire of them and go completely dark. And a few years later I start wanting the variegation, and get them back. Probably not a good thing, but it keeps some of the hair demons at bay. Then again, my hair has seen years of peroxide (junior high) and pool chlorine (high school and college) abuse.

And really, I’m LM when it comes to everyday hair wrangling. Every once in a while I’ll get out my steam rollers and do it up in a 1940’s style, but that’s a rarity. Mostly, it’s just there … pulled back in one of those plastic clips that have become ubiquitous since the 80’s. I generally blow dry my bangs, especially after a long conversation with Perky and Charming on the bonuses of bunning (drying front hair only and letting rear hair head dry in buns to give it a little wave for later … a point which had totally passed me by for the first three decades of my life).

I like the feel of my hair. I enjoy running my fingers through it and having it brushed or stroked. Especially when I have time to just let it air dry. There’s a magical point where it’s mostly, but not completely dry, when it just feels like silk. Aaaahhhh …

So, what to do? Chop? Not chop? I’m not sure. It’s a hairy question …

Random Saturday Ramblings

Woke up early … again. I seem to always wake up somewhere between 0545 and 0630, even on days when I’m not working. Even on days when I stayed up until 0330 the night before. This could get to be a problem. Luckily, I can usually get back to sleep if I need it. But still. It’s ridiculous.

When I woke up the second time, Perky had gotten up and was starting to sort through garage stuff. Huzzah! And she seemed okay to do it alone and not need a cheerleader. Huzzah Huzzah! I ended up cleaning off and sweeping the patio for an afternoon dance lesson. It’s been a long time, but the dance floor seems to be holding up very well.

Went out to get some Vitamin D … by taking a short walk in the sunshine. Was just going to walk through the neighborhood and look at houses, but ended up going over to Clementine’s. It was packed. Wished I’d brought a wallet, but as it was I could only longing gaze at the lovely soups, salads and quiches that the sidewalk diners were feasting on.

Back at the garage, things were going full-force. Such cleanliness! Killed a bunch more spiders, and got almost everything organized. All Wonder Woman’s boxed kitchen stuff now neatly organized. Next thing to do is organize all the serving platters, etc. Camping and emergency equipment shelved and organized. Cobwebs and dust swept away. Perky’s garage sale items amassed in the center, awaiting becoming someone else’s stuff. So purgingly wonderful.

Socrates (so-named because of a penchant for asking awkward questions and speculating wildly) arrived in the afternoon for a swing dancing lesson. I always wonder why more guys don’t take up dancing. In fact, most men seem to have made up their minds that they don’t dance well. Which is ridiculous. Most people haven’t ever tried partner dancing (doing a slow bear hug in a circle to “Somebody” by Depeche Mode doesn’t count). And even if they have, it takes a while to do it well. The first time I tried swing dancing (in college, at a FHE activity), I think I was so bad that no one wanted to dance with me. And this was during my extra-cute phase!

Anyway, I have a theory about men not liking to dance. I think that somewhere along the line, probably in junior high school or thereabouts, some girl they had a crush on, told them that they danced like a dork. And so, they were crushed by their crush, and refused to dance forever more. Which is sad. Since the girl probably had a crush right back on the boy. But then, where would we be without awful pubescent stories to share? Wait … don’t answer that.

The color code. No ... the other one

So, Gwynn invited me to a Pre-Valentine’s, Clear Intentions party. The invitation made me laugh.

‘The party is color coded, so please dress according to the color guidelines. You must wear ONE COLOR ONLY pants can be the exception), with one accessory color … it’s a “clear intentions” party, people!! You cannot show up rainbow colored, even if you are gay. Apologies for the crudeness J …

RED: happily taken
BLACK: where’s the booze?
ORANGE: looking to casually date
GREEN: horny/ just looking for someone for tonight … use your imagination
PURPLE: need a spooning buddy (while watching Battlestar Galactica … this one is for Mandy)
BLUE: broken and on the rebound, proceed with caution
WHITE: looking for a relationship
YELLOW: just here to meet new friends … awwww
PINK: swinger (non-dancing related)’

And really, I don’t know Mandy, and I don’t want to spoon with her. But I wore purple … if only to bond with the other BSG’ers..

Liked the party early on. Although it was strange … sitting and talking with people from whom I generally only want one thing. These girls who are all friends from a Baptist university out in Riverside. One guy who’s in a neuroscience grad program at USC … and the rather unlucky, non-dancing schoolmate that he brought along. Trying to talk football and failing miserably (running back versus wide receiver?), Melissa’s birthday, and she’s a tender 18! This other group who went to India. And so on. Uncomfortable to chitchat, but satisfying to find interesting details.

Words are insufficient

Went out dancing last night. Got my fix. Hmmm ...

I have a hard time explaining swing dancing to people. Most people get some really lame vision of east coast swing in their minds when I talk about swing dancing. Something like this. And when I say lame, I don't mean the dancers are lame. Obviously they're beginners, and everyone has to start somewhere. They're only lame if that is where they stay forever.

Or, for those who may have a little knowledge about Harlem, they may picture something like this, which are Whitey's Lindy Hoppers at the height of savoy style. Incredibly athletic and not how I see myself dancing in my wildest dreams.

The last time I searched, I found this clip, which I rather liked. It represents west coast swing, but the stylings at lindy groove are a hybrid between the first and second dance. Without all the hair flipping. And, as much as I hate the song, I like this routine a lot.

But, this morning I found two more gems.

This one was good. No idea where it was from. Mostly lindy infused with blues. What I'd likely see at Lindy Groove or Speakeasy Blues. (Note: when I dream about dancing, I dance like Emily H.)

And, for those of you who may be interested in blues dancing, it can look like this (Rhythmic Arts Festival Blues competition). I liked the first and last couples. Although, I rarely see as much dragging as the first couple did. However, most of the dancing had a hefty dose of lindy in it. And, there are some of the same dancers as in the previous clip.

So, if a picture is worth a thousand words, is a video clip worth a million? Well, with such low resolution, I might have to knock it down to 500,000.

Talking about marriage ...

(I know that Pilgrimgirl posted about these rings a while ago. And I remember telling her about seeing them in a catalogue before she and Nichan got married. And I wonder if she'd told me if she'd already seen them, or if I was the one who introduced them to the rings

At DOT*, Nichan spoke about Changing Expectations of Marriage. Since we’re using the Doctrines of the Gospel Institute manual to structure the discussions this quarter, I guess it could loosely come under the lesson on the Importance of Family. However, Nichan also borrowed heavily from his own experience and from an article that came out in the November 2006 issue of Sunstone, “For Better, For Worse, For Apostacy?: How Faith Issues Affect Couple Relationships.”

The article was actually the transcript from a SLC Sunstone conference session, which I attended, and found amazingly poignant. I came away with the distinct impression that, as long as both partners could maintain the love and respect that were the bases of the marriage in the first place, that the marriage ought to be maintained as well. There are very few things that I believe are cause for divorce … physical or emotional abuse, infidelity, and trying to escape the laws of the land are the few I can think of right now. Of course, I wish more people thought long and hard and clearly about getting married in the first place. Avoiding mistakes is much better than trying to fix them after the fact. The ounce of prevention, etc etc.

That being said, not everything can be predicted. I’m sure the couples in the article, Nichan and Pilgrimgirl, and others who contributed their personal experiences to the discussion last night had no idea what types of faith challenges would materialize months, years and decades from their courtship period, and how it would affect their marriages.

The one message that stood out to me from last night is the need for really good communication. Before and during. Talking about everything. Assumptions. Desires. Plans. What is needed by each person. What is wanted. What is realistic. What is hoped for. That and being flexible. I tend to think that most things can be successfully negotiated. Of course there are some things that aren’t. In which case it’s good to find out what they are before it’s too late.

Superman and Precious are the best case for this that I know of. Someday I’m going to have to ask Superman where he got that comprehensive book of questions that they perused together in the months before their marriage. Moods. Finances. Leisure activities. Child bearing and rearing. Sex. One silly but possibly relevant set of questions that stuck out in my mind: Do you follow any particular sports teams? Do wins or losses significantly affect your mood? For how long? This line of questioning wasn’t even really on my horizon, but could potentially be very important to someone who is heavily invested in sports.

And, it was very nice to hear from the elder statescouple about how well their marriage has turned out, despite the changes in how they viewed themselves and each other, and what seemed to help. They call it dumb-stupid-luck. Whatever it is, it seems to have worked marvelously for them.

*Given the recent storm over controversial names, I’m just going to refer to the Wednesday night discussion group as DOT: Discussions on Theology. Journeygal has already aptly described it as,” a group of people with various-levels-of-religiosity who are in one way or another interested in Mormonism, and get together to respectfully discuss doctrine and practice within an intent to promote faith and understanding.” However, as that is really long, and not acronymn-able, I’ll just refer to it as DOT. Nice. Short. Inoffensive. I hope.

I'm not warm or fuzzy ... or fuNNy

The other day a friend was upset that one of her bosses said that she wasn’t very warm. This was interesting to me, since I think of her as passionate and involved. However, her job is so demanding, that I can see how it would suck the ability to share warmth with others right out of her bones. Anyway, I told her not to worry about it too much. But maybe I’m biased, since I’ve gotten the same type of comment from the manager who does my yearly evaluations, although probably in a much gentler fashion.

I don’t get emotionally involved at work. I’m not one of those touchy-feely nurses who wants to sit and talk about feelings for hours on end. At work, I like to have really sick patients. And it I can’t have a really sick patient, I’ll settle for one who’s intubated and sedated. I especially don’t like to have patients whose parents are a mess. Which I understand is unfair. Any parent whose child is in the ICU would probably be a mess. However, when it gets to the point that I’m spending more time dealing with the parents’ emotional problems than the actual patient, is when I get really, really irritated. (BTW, I’d like to send a shoutout to the PICU social workers. Love them. Especially this week. Major interventions with two crazy families).

So, I don’t tend to get involved in my patients’ emotional lives. There are a couple of Extra Nice Nurse things I like to do … French braid the girls’ hair (those who have long hair, are mobile enough, and will be in bed for a long time), sing (when there’s no one else in the room), and hold fussy but consolable babies … but these are secondary to actually providing requisite care, and generally only happen when there is time to do such extras. My main concerns are making sure patients are stable, safe, comfortable and clean, and keeping the parents educated and informed.

Another not-really-related thing I’ve noticed … I’m not very funny, and I’m not very invested in fun.

I’m not a very funny person. I have a hard time telling jokes. Sometimes I don’t think other people’s jokes are very funny. I don’t like American stand-up comedy. In fact, I don’t like stand-up in general. Except Eddie Izzard. And only really in Dressed to Kill and Glorious (We went to see him live in LA a couple of years ago, but I was too astounded by the fake boobs and the crotch-high slit skirt to pay much attention to what was coming out of his mouth). Except that it’s mostly because he’s clever. Not to say that he’s not funny, but I like him because he’s clever and witty.

Which leads to me next point. I’m not very invested in fun, for fun’s sake. This may seem like splitting hairs, but I’m just not interested in just having fun. I like to do interesting and fulfilling things, and find a measure of fun in them. But I don’t do them because they’re fun … I do them because they’re interesting and/or fulfilling. Take iceskating. And no, I’m not very good at it (and it's been a while since I've been). However, I started doing it because I wanted to strengthen my ankle after the snowboarding accident (and no, I’m not good at snowboarding either). I continued with the iceskating because it got me out of the summer heat, and because I could feel how it strengthened my body in general. And because I liked finding ways to move to the music. Yes, it was fun, but that was the least of the draws.

And maybe what I’m really trying to say is that I don’t trust “fun.” I have many fun people in my life. And I enjoy them immensely. But when it comes down to getting things done, I generally can’t rely on the fun part of their nature to do those things. Or rather, I have to come up with fun angles to get them to do those things that need to be done.

So, I’m not fun. I can live with that. Now, let’s go out and have an interesting and fulfilling time.

It's not easy being green

Kermit was right. It’s not easy being green.

A while ago, Pilgrimgirl posted a link to a site to measure one’s eco-footprint. I didn’t even look at the link, because I knew my footprint would be huge. And I didn’t really want to think about it.

However, the other week I stumbled upon this post by Artemis over at FMH, and I knew it was time to, “Take It To The Next Level.” Reading over how people are pointedly changing their behavior to have less impact on the earth made me feel so incredibly wasteful and selfish.

One of the issues that really struck me was water conservation. I remembered how severely we all tried to conserve water during the drought in southern California in the early 90’s. Taking short showers with water saving shower heads. Dying lawns. Looming threat of wildfires. Putting filled and sealed jars of water in the toilet ranks to use less water with each flush. Bigfoot intoning, “Yellow is mellow, brown is down.” I’m sure there are more and better ideas out there, but that is what I remember doing. And yet, I no longer do these things. I’ve returned to my old habits.

So, I’m trying to be better.

I got two canvas bags from Trader Joe’s to use in place of paper or plastic. I keep them in my trunk. And every once in a while, I remember to get them out before I’ve gotten to the store front, thus avoiding the sheepish trek back and forth.

I’ve gotten a recycling container to keep next to the kitchen trash, and am educating roommates and friends to place bottles and cans inside. At this point, there is no convenient place to take them for recycling. However, I do as Wilson does, and leave them in a drawstring bag for the trashbin scavengers (this sounds like a very pejorative term, but I am really grateful that there are such people, and happily contribute to their financial welfare and to conservation).

I’m turning off lights. I’ve been really bad about falling asleep with the light on, etc. However, with the new room arrangement, and by digging out an old extension switch, I’ve rigged up a reading light that’s easy to manipulate, and I’m getting better.

I’m taking my meals to work. So, I’m not eating at the cafeteria, eating better food, and not using Styrofoam, plastic covers, and plastic utensils every day. I bring a bowl and silverware from home. Confess that I do also bring frozen dinners for lunch. The next goal is to get back into cooking more … but that’s not on this level.

And, I’m trying to get things fixed in the apartment. Things like cracked windows, non-working plugs, doors, etc, that will lead to better insulation and less natural as usage. Because our bill this last month was $216!

And, we’re getting rid of the land telephone line. All of us have cellular phones, and paying $15 each a month for telemarketers to leave annoying messages is just not working for me. Really, that’s a full-price movie and small popcorn once a month … if I were so inclined.

So, I’ll start from here. It’s not easy being green. But I’m trying.

Yataaaaa! Yakuza power!

The usual suspects over for gaming. Catanning was, well, hmmm. Either it was irritating, or I was irritated. Either way, I didn’t win any games. Hmmph.

Then we transitioned to Family Business. And I have to say, the part-Japanese-ers kicked trash. FGITW and I were a powerful coalition. Yakuza power in action. Whiteboy was part of the power for a while, but then he defected over to Wonder Woman and Gadget Boy. And we still beat them. Until the last game. By which time it was past midnight. Way past my bedtime, and on a “school (read: work) night” to boot.

Drip and drizzle

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

I have a cold. Yesterday, as we cleaned the garage during the rain, it only felt like I was getting one. But this morning it arrived full force. Right as I was labeling the last of my blog posts. After getting up several times to blow my nose, I admitted defeat. I have a cold.

So, I lay on my large white chair, and settled in. Blanket. Roll of tissue. The Secret Life of Bees. Started and didn’t stop (aside from the periodic blowing of the nose) until I’d reached the end. Sometimes predictable. But lovely. And comforting. And stirring. Entrancing. It made me want to visit Carolina in the summer. Even though I hate hot and humid weather, and especially mosquitoes. All these disincentives seemed trivial compared to the finding of one’s healing place, where secret hurts are released and souls are made whole again. Lovely, lovely book. A good one to start 2007 with.

Doings on a Rainy Saturday

Converted this blog to the new google format. Not that I actually had a choice. Either I hit an inadvertent key, or they were forcing my hand. I think it’s the latter. But I really do like the new format. And spent about 90 minutes labeling past posts.

Entered my garage. Four hours later, it’s a new place. Killed about 25 spiders of various sizes. Swept the largest collection of mouse droppings I have ever seen in my life. Saw one black widow spider. Threw away myriad cans of expired foods. I felt horrible looking at our dumpster. In my defense, the food wasn’t mine … and as much of it was gourmet-ish stuff, I didn’t feel like I could dispose of it without the owner’s permission. But still, I felt bad. However, on the whole, I think the joy of purging the garage just outweighs the sorrow at so much waste.

Nichan, Gameboy and JHW came over for a chat after an anti-war march (rally?) downtown. Interesting to hear their stances on the issue. I still feel so muddled about it all. Paralyzed by indecision. At least that’s one thing I have in common with US politicians.

Over to Pizzicotto for dinner. Che meraviglioso e delizioso! Warm spinach salad, pumpkin gnocchi, the risotto special, and porkchop with polenta. Eaten family style, of course. Lots and lots of carbs. Mmm mmm mmm. I just love it there. Yes, Brentwood may now be overflowing with Italian restaurants, but Pizzicotto is the place for me. Being in the neighborhood also reminded me of Sammie, who is getting married soon. Saw her the other week, and was heartglad to see her so happy.

Then to Borders. Wandered around laughing at ridiculous books, and hungering after good ones. At one point my friend pointed to two books about Lewis and Clark: the Dummies’ Guide, and one more obscurely named.

F: Now which one would you choose. The one with the boring title? Or the one with the insulting title?
Me: Knowing you know nothing is the beginning of knowledge. Er, wait … the beginning of wisdom. Knowing you know nothing is the beginning of wisdom, grasshopper.
F: And the end of wisdom is dumb.

And that was the last thing I heard before the giggles took over …

Ended up getting The Secret Life of Bees. I know it’s one of Madwoman’s favorites, and I’ve been meaning to read it.

I love being blue

No, I don’t mean being depressed. I love dancing to the blues. Gwynn told me about an event her housemate was putting on. And it was only then that I realized that this was the same thing Xray had been forwarding emails about. So, I went.

Do Something Blue. Actually, it’s not a regular venue. Apparently Tracy sets up various events where and when she can. Some for workshops, some for dances. Tonight’s dance was at a lovely little venue out in La Crescenta. Small. Intimate. Okay floor. There were a few faces I recognized. A bit more I didn’t.

My “starter” dance was with Arlene. This may sound startling to some, but it’s not too bizarre. Once a dancer has gotten to a certain point, many try to learn the opposite role, be it lead or follow, in order to become a stronger dancer. I rather have the same philosophy about gender roles, but that’s another topic. Arlene is a rather late-middle-aged woman, a bit soft about the middle, who (among other things), teaches children to dance. Anyway, as she was a bit shorter than me, her ample bossom lay just below my un-ample one. And she was soft there too, in a good way. And I wished that I was ample too. Not enough to actually get a boob job. But enough that if I had the power to, I’d grow myself up a size (and maybe even an additional half).

However, a couple dances with Arlene was enough to convince the local danseurs. I had the most fun dancing with Arthur (who is visiting via Philadelphia before resettling in Austin), and Tim (the youngster with the amazing turns and locks). Met some new people, danced with some older pals, and loved watching Macho Bruno, Zena, and LitheOne.

Also had an aha moment. There were a couple people who I knew frequent Lindy Groove, and they’re okay dancers, but always just a little awkward. As I watched them fabulously doing the blues, I realized that they must have started with blues and transitioned to lindy, and not the other way around. Blues really is their home.

Anyway, for those of you who may be reading, I highly recommend blues dancing. It’s much more forgiving than lindy … in tempo, in body wear and tear, in dance form, in just about everything. Patience and balance. And a few body rolls and pulses if you like …

On getting the snarkiness out

The past two days were icky ones. Really smelly patients. Hectic and annoyingly busy patients and parents. Three transfers cancelled … and that was just in the room of four that I worked in. Ick.

After work I had to wipe myself down just to get the ick off. Changed. Primped a little. And was on my way to Lindy Groove for some dance therapy. Was so sensory overloaded that I made the trip in total silence. Not even the voluptuous repetition of “Prepositions and Other Useful Words” in French.

Up at LG, I put my things away, and sat for a minute or two in the usual spot, chatting with PlumbCheery.

A woman sat next to me and said, “Excuse me, I need to get to my water bottle.” No problem, I thought. We all deposit our things along the periphery, and need to retrieve things once in a while. So, I started to turn so she could reach past me. At which point she maneuvered me out of my seat and took it over. I had to laugh, and I shot her an amused but questioning glance, which earned me the reply of, “Oh, I put my sweater here to mark my seat.”

To which I archly (and piquantly, as you may imagine) ruminated, “Oh, I didn’t realize we were reserving seats now.” And went off to dance with PC. It was rather bizarre. At LG, there are no “reserved seats.” There are people who tend to sit most of the night, but that really just defeats the purpose of going out to dance, now doesn’t it. There are tables for birthday celebrations (which are free, and which come with a grocery store cake), but even those usually devolve as the night wears on.

Anyway, as we were about to start dancing, I asked PC if I’d been really obnoxious. Actually, I stated, not asked. He gave me one of his cheery smiles and said, “Well, I understood why you said it.”

So, straight away after the song, I approached the woman (who is probably my own age … fancy that, I’m a woman) to make amends. Turns out that she comes from tango dancing, where seating is apparently more rigid. Seems she is relieved to be switching from milonga to lindyjam. We both laughingly made our apologies and parted with good will. Hopefully she won’t spend too much time in “her” seat.

I should probably note that tonight was LG’s first ever lindy competition. The first place couple (I don’t know their names) were good. Entertaining and good musicality. Even if I’m not a Savoy fan. Second place were Nick Williams and Kristin Sorci. And they are good dancers (for those in the know, they are the ones who trained the Dmitri and Donyelle for the lindy routine on SYTYCD), but didn’t really sparkle tonight. Personally, I would not have ranked them. And in third place were Jeremy Otth and Sarah Whatserbucket, who are not regular partners, and were entertaining, but not great. Really, Julius and Holly should have won. And they might have, if Julius hadn’t fallen on his tush while doing a slide drop. Even now I can’t help but giggle. Also of note were Katya (getting every break with a bang) and Gio and MaeLae (for the swivels with the lead slides … they were hot).

Got home and was still amped up. Watched Grey’s Anatomy and Men in Trees before I was relaxed enough to shower and climb in to bed … about 0300. Sometimes it just feels good to return to my nocturnal roots. And thus was the snarkiness expelled.

Bite me (Or, I just can't get enough)

I'm a lip biter. Yes, I admit it. I'm a lip biter. Nooooo, not of others' lips (at least, not yet). No, I just bite my own lip. When I'm nervous, or when my lips are chapped, I bite my lip (I'll leave it to you to guess which situations merit which type of lip biting). Anyway, it's generally of the non-injurious type, and I can stop anytime I want to. Really.

However, 2007 has not been good for me in terms of lip biting. Since the new year, I have bitten myself, on the inside of my lip, in the same place, no fewer than four times. And it's gotten rather painful. In fact, I've been trying to move my teeth as little as possible these days. Taking really small bites. Opening my mouth just enough to slip my toothbrush in sideways when I brush at night. Giving up chewing the cool green apple gum that I love. All because I literally can't get enough ... of me.

So, if you happen to see me walking down the street, or driving in my car, and it looks like I'm sticking my tongue out at you, but that it didn't quite make it past my lips ... I hope you realize that I'm just applying inner pressure against my wound, and that you pray for me that I don't actually bite my tongue off, because that would really bite the big one (so to speak).

And old story retold ... with soul

Went to the movies tonight. By myself. Used the last of the passes A got me as a gift way back when. (Aside: I can't believe that evening movies are now $11 at AMC. Even the mattinees are $9. That's about as close to highway robbery as one can get in a town that frequently makes movies about highway robbery. Good grief! This makes the decision, of which movies are theatre ones vs rentals, much, much easier. I should also note that I used the other pass to see "Step Up," which really didn't merit the ticket, as the dancing, choreography, plot and acting were pretty awful).

Tonight's movie was Stomp the Yard. Yes, the plot was
You Got Served all over again. And yes, the acting was rather mediocre. And yes, I had to laugh and wince whenever some frat boy threw back his head and howled, or made the sign of the hissing cobra with his hand. But the dancing ... aaahhh, the dancing ... 'twas fabulous. And the cinematography kept me riveted. A little choppy, but gritty and gripping. So much so that I didn't even groan (at least not audibly) when the movie ended with the tired and old "tie-breaker" device. Those of you who have seen "You Got Served" will remember what this is.

Anyway. It was expensive. And late. On a night after work. And predictable. But it was great. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a sudden urge to watch my YGS dvd. Thank heavens for dvd menus and scene selection!

Musically Inclined

I’ve been thinking about music lately. Especially since I’m not listening to any in my car. Anyway, a friend asked me about my favorite songs. I started to email back my list, then realized that I missed the important kicker. The actually question was, “do you have a list of songs that you once considered your "favorite," which you look back at and scratch you head about?” Which is an entirely different question. Which did make me scratch my head. This is what I came up with:

In junior high school, I used to be a Depeche Mode devotee. I wore dark eyeshadow, had peroxided hair (which tend to do bad things to asian hair, like make my hair look like a singed black cat), and got my ears double pierced without my parents’ knowledge or consent. Anyway, when I look back on DM songs, I can see how dark, twisty and weird a lot of their lyrics are … not all of it was the up-beat “I Just Can’t Get Enough” stuff. And I think I was properly worn out on “Somebody” from attending too many church dances.

Then there was the summer that my ward went to BYU youth conference, and my friend Rob introduced me to the Def Leopard song, “Pour Some Sugar On Me.” I loved it, but then again, I wasn’t the only one. I think it even garnered a play at one of the youth mega-dances that week. Even funnier was Starr 98.7 FM playing it over and over last year. Quite bizarre to have the old come back as new.

And, I still feel like moving my body every time the Gold Digger song comes on. There’s just something about the way the guys shout, “We want pre-nup! We want pre-nup! Yeaaah” that makes me want to laugh.

However, I do still want to address the favorite songs (sans head scratching) issue. This may be particularly less entertaining, if you even found the first part of this post entertaining, but I give you permission to stop reading at any time.

Favorite song to karaoke to: Sweet Home Alabama by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Favorite song lyrics: The Prayer (I prefer the Charlotte Church and Josh Groban cover)
Favorite song to dance to: Wade in the Water by Eva Cassidy
Favorite repetitive song: Praise You by Fatboy Slim and Honey by Moby
Favorite Christmas songs: Coventry Carol, Go Tell It On the Mountain and Angels We Have Heard On High
Favorite song to practice conducting to: Hallelujah chorus
Favorite all time song: Orchestral version of the Love Story theme song

Are there more? Indubitably.

'Tisn't the season, but the spirit moved me

Yes, Christmas and New Year’s was a couple weeks ago. I realize that. However, when the spirit (of who … Martha Stewart?) moves me to move furniture, I must comply.

Let me explain a bit, so that I don’t sound like a completely obsessed and compulsed person. Like most people, I associate New Year’s with new beginnings. And a desire to clean house. I tend to think of this as a Japanese tradition, from all that my grandmother ingrained in me. And while I’m sure that there are plenty of cultural traditions that allow for cleaning out one’s house in preparation for the new year, it will always be associated most closely with my maternal heritage.

Added to this cultural training, I also have a personal investment in mixing things up every once in a while. In college, I would rearrange the furniture in my bedroom about twice a year … just to get a new outlook on the possibilities. And because rearranging furniture was significantly less expensive than buying new furniture. And now that I am gainfully employed, I like to keep up the tradition, and couple it with mega-cleaning and sorting, of the Trash. Deseret Industries, and Save For Future Unknown Applications varieties. Because rearranging furniture is still significantly less expensive than buying new furniture.

So, I’d been feeling the stirrings of the spirit (funny, she’s also an ex-con) for a couple of weeks, but I’d managed to put it off. Too busy. Not enough time. I’ll do it later.

On Monday I went to work, and worked really hard. I mean, really hard. ECMO on the Cardiothoracic ICU. Baby with an open chest, heart visibly beating through a clear, betadine-stained patch, bedside surgery, continuous administration of various blood products, many pump adjustments, walking air out of the circuit, etc etc. Hectic and draining. After work I went home and crashed. Woke up the next morning and got myself to work.

Except that I wasn’t scheduled. And they were fully staffed. And I bounced out of the hospital, enthused at having the day off. Spent some quality time at Target and Trader Joe’s. And when I got home, the spirit of Martha moved so strongly that I had no excuse to delay any longer. So, on went the Christmas music from my ipod (just to give the day the right ambience), and I was in for the long haul. The bed went up against as as-yet-untried wall, and everything else followed like pieces in a puzzle. Martha was appeased. And I feel good. Closets and storage newly reorganized. Lots of space. My car trunk full of things to donate to DI. I still have to tackle the books, but they’re all on shelves, and resting comfortably just now. And now for a well deserved rest …

Finding Nemo ... er ... Charlie Tuna

Made plans with a friend to go for a late Saturday lunch, sushi or seafood. It fell to me to find a place, and I had the awful realization that I don't have a good sushi place for West Los Angeles. My favorite sushi place, Sushi Nozawa, is up in Studio City, and isn't even open on the weekend. My favorite general seafood place, Malibu Seafood, is (you guessed it) all the way up in Malibu. And other than those two places, I haven't really frequented sushi or seafood restaurants for the last, say … nine years. Sounds bizarre, given that I actually like fish, and like to order it when I dine out (although I don't really like to cook it at home). However, given Precious' fish ban (that's since been lifted to allow for white fish), it's no wonder that we generally find some Italian or Indian (or even Pho) place to eat.

So, I was on a mission. Find a good sushi/seafood place in West Los Angeles for a late lunch on a Saturday.. Not too expensive, but not cheap either. Some place where it's possible to have a conversation. And some place where the fish is good (and not covered with goopey sauces or other strange accoutrements). Doesn't sound like it should be too difficult? Especially with recommendations from friends …

Au contraire, mon ami. First of all, most reputable sushi places close after lunch at 1430, if they are even open for lunch on the weekend. Most places like like K-ZO, Nagao and The Hump don’t even open for business until 1730 on the weekend. A lot of the other places that are open on the weekend are little hole-in-the-wall types places that are crowded, noisy and not conducible to a nice get-to-know-you conversation. Not that I dislike HITW-type places. Nozawa definitely qualifies as a HITW place. But the chisai maguro there is so delectable that one feels transported to a different plane of existence, so that it is entirely possible to disregard the surroundings.

So, after a couple of days scrounging through various internet sites to find a good place, I went out to do some fieldwork. Scouted out a couple places, but most were not going to be open when I needed them to be, and so I moved on. Finally found a place on Sawtelle that was going to be open, and looked rather passable … if one were to disregard the sakura painted on to the overhead fluorescent light covers. Yes, it’s a bit crowded, but not overly so. And the sushi bar looked well-stocked. Tried the fatty tuna and the jellyfish rolls. Fatty tuna sounds really … well, gross, but it was quite delicious. Plus, the sushi chef chops it up prior to rolling it up, so there is none of that irritating tugging that often happens with unchopped fish. And the jellyfish, which sounded quite interesting, was less that exciting. Also tried the regular tuna, which was good. When it comes down to it, I really like tuna.

As I drove home, I also had another thought. Houston’s. Yes, I know it sounds bizarre that Houston’s would be serving sushi, but I know that they do. And the last time I ate there I actually had some, and it was tasty and inventive without being too over-the-top on trying to be creative. And Houston’s is generally quiet and calm. And there’s plenty of parking. And it’s nearby. And it’s hopefully open.

So, two options for my specific requirements. And now I’m dreaming of Nozawa again …

Ready to Say Goodbye

My patient from yesterday was very sick. He was in a steady decline that lasted all day. Lots of vent and med changes, and we spent the last two hours of my shift getting an arterial and central venous line in, then cleaning him up. Dr. Metro had a very long, frank and compassionate talk with the parents. Lots of visitors came to see the family … the home-care nurse, family, even a female chaplain who prayed with the family. At the end of the day, I gratefully gave report to the on-coming nurse. When I was done, I told her I was going to get a drink, then I’d be back to finish up my charting. When I got back, they were coding the patient. They got him back, and he’d stabilized out by the time I was ready to leave. As I left the unit, I saw the parents and a number of relatives walking to the unit. As I approached the mother, she turned to embrace me, and started crying again. I held her tight, and gave her what comfort I could in my broken Spanish. She gave me a thankful and teary smile, then continued down the hall to the unit.

When I got in to work this morning, his name was absent from the patient list. Apparently the parents had decided, given his extremely critical condition, his long-standing history of medical problems, and bleak prognosis, to withdraw life support. He died very shortly after.

I know this sounds so very clinical. However, I applaud this particular family for making a very tough decision. They obviously loved their child very much. They were a family of faith. And they wanted what was best for their child, even if it would cause them a lot of pain. It’s not everyday that I meet with parents that have loved their child so well during their life, that they are able to let them go when the time is right.

In a Friend-ing Mood

Good things the past couple of weeks.

Movie with a friend. Dreamgirls. Fabulous. Hudson was amazing.

Emailing with a new Friend.

To Venice Beach with a friend for walking and talking about cabbages and kings and sundry things.

Young friend getting married. Hope all kinds of good things for him and her.

Found by a very old friend on linkup. No, she's not old, but she knows me from way back in my YW days. One of the 3 or 4 girls I actually liked in my ward.

Friends over to play games ... Catan, Pop 5 (new, and I like it, especially when Wonder Woman, Perky and I are on the same team), and Family Business.

Dancing with friends. XRay celebrated Speakeasy Blue's one year anniversary by having Teddy Lee Hooker play again. So proud of what XRay has accomplished, and hope it continues strong after the move to Arcadia.

Will see Outhouse friends on Wed ... first discussion of the new year.

Funny in French

So, I have decided to learn French. In my car. Actually, I decided to do it long ago. Mr. Baritone had actually loaned me his French language cd’s a while back, but I never got motivated enough to start until after Morocco. After being frustrated at being so little able to communicate, I decided that since the French conquered so much of the world way back when, French would be the next most logical language to learn. Plus, I want to go to Paris.

So, I am learning French in my car. The French voice belongs to a young (?) woman who I imagine looks like Julianne Nicholson from Law & Order: Criminal Intent. And everyone in a while I run across something that makes me chuckle.

Une femme: Why is the word for woman and wife the same? As if one automatically presupposes the other.

Une entrée: In French, the entrance or an appetizer. In English, the main course. Do the French eat that much better than those in English speaking nations that our main courses are so junior to their tny dabs of food that are supposed to just whet one’s appetite?

Soixante-dix, quatre-vingt, quatre-vingt-dix: Seventy, eighty and ninety respectively. Or rather, sixty-ten, four-twenty and four-twenty-ten. I mean, really. Why not just have dedicated words for the numbers seventy, eighty and ninety? Did they run out of words for numbers?

Lu tren: My least favorite word so far. Not that I have anything against trains. I would love to take the train in Los Angeles if they city could ever build around the self-important behemoth of Beverly Hills. No, it’s just the really harsh and guttural pronunciation of the otherwise lovely vocals of the woman on the cd’s. When she says lu tren, she sounds like my brothers when they have chest colds.

My favorite phrases to repeat so far, “Quesque vous voulais?” (What would you like?) and “Je cherche quelque chose comme ce.” (I am looking for something like that). Don’t ask me why, they just are fun to say. Or maybe I’m dreaming of shopping along the Champs Elysee (as if I would ever have the budget to do this).

However, the most fun is imagining what a word actually looks like on a page. The languages that I have studied have been pretty phonetic in nature. Japanese (at least in romaji), Spanish and Italian all pretty much spell the way they sound (And unlike Anne Elliot, I really am not a true proficient in any of them). For years, the phrase hors d’oeuvres would baffle me … I knew how it was supposed to sound, but it always took me a second to route around the natural inclination to say something that sounded like “horse dovres.”

Anyway, I’ve finally made it to the second cd of the series. Hopefully I’ll have made enough headway by fall or next spring to make my way to Paris for a couple of weeks to take some serious language classes, enjoy the city, and take a couple of weekend visits to nearby places (and aren’t all places nearby once you get on The Continent?”).

New Year's Resolutions

#1 ... Be a more consistent blogger, since I know that backblogging (as I am very wont to do) can be very confusing to readers. Anyway, I've posted a few pictures of recent events. Will back blog when time allows. But if I don't ever get to it, they certainly are some tantalizing photos!

2006 Book List

Once again, I find myself looking at the list of books I read during the past year, and being startled at how short the list is.

My favorite read this year was undoubtedly The Bookseller of Kabul. Phenomenal. This is a book that I could reread each year, along with The Emperor of Scent.

The runner-up this year was Blink. I raced through it, loaned it out to friends, and reread portions between loans.

The rest of the books are as listed below. Yes, I padded the numbers with a couple children's books. So sue me. I *'d the ones that were particularly good.
Artemis Fowl
* Garlic and Sapphires
Goodbye, I Love You
The Kite Runner
The Know-It-All
* Mauss
Mormon Enigma
Never Let Me Go
* Nickel and Dimed
O Pioneer
Seasoning of a Chef
Snowflake Bentley
* Soul of a Chef
Spook.
Tender at the Bone

As for rereads? The usual. The Emperor of Scent, Pride and Prejudice, Persuasion. So marvelous and fascinating that they draw me back year after year.