Transcending in Concord

Today the three of us took the communter train out to Concord to meet up with Sarah. Pilgrim Girl met Sarah through blogging. And when Sarah heard that a visit was pending, she graciously invited us up to Concord for a tour.

First, we stopped by her house, which is just steps from the station, for a bit of a chat and something to quench our throats. Her home is full of books, bright colors, and comfort.

Then it was off to the local deli/specialty cheese shop to pick up lunch. Nichan ended up getting a specially made sandwich from the sandwich specialist who was here for her last day ... Italian deli with all kinds of goodness. It made my mouth water just to hear it, so I ordered the same. Other delicacies that we picked up, some triple cream brie, local goat's milk with cranberries, crackers, chili-flavoured raw chocolate, olives, and stuffed eggplant.

Sarah drove us out to Walden Pond (really more of a lake, but "pond" seems much quainter) to consume out feast. Had a bit of a kuffufle getting in ... a violent, mechanized dispenser that rudely shot out the parking permit at the ground. Sarah uttered the fabulous line of the day, "What would Thoreau think?"

The day was just lovely. Filtered shunshine that warmed us gently, although not enough that I would even consider swimming the length like the ten or so people that we saw during our picnic. The leaves were jsut starting to turn a magnificent shade of crimson on a few select branches. And steps from which we were able to lounge on as we chatted and contemplated the breeze making patterns on the water.

The we walked over to the recreation of Walden's little house. Small, one roomed place. Large enough for a fireplace, a bed, a desk, and not much else. Not the he would have needed much interior space, what with the woods and the lake to draw him out. And, given the fact that he had laundry done and meals delivered by family, it doesn't seem to have been too hard.

And, a short visit to the gift shop. Thoreau was so imminently quotable ... there are so many phrases that I recognize as his, and yet I don't think I've ever read one of his works cover to cover. Something to put on my to-do list. Found a set of woodblock note cards to bring to Georgia Peach and Wry-an. And we got to talking with the guy at the counter. Historian, and re-ennacter, which means that he has costumes! Pilgrimgirl may have winced, but I thought it was great. And, found out that Thoreau pronounced his name "tho'ro " (as in, The writer did a thorough job of explaining the situation.), and not "tho-ro'" as I accustomed to hearing it. Around that time period, there was a great anti-French bias, and he was trying to distance himself from any connection to those marvelous purveyors of fashion and cheese.

Sarah then drove us to
The Old Manse. We wandered around the foregrounds, taking in the garden that Emerson had planted as a wedding gift for Nathaniel and Sophia Hawthorne, and luxuriating in the beautiful wonder of sunlight filtering through dense tree leaves. When we went to purchasee our tickets for the house tour, the gentleman at the desk advised us that Emerson house was open later than Orchard house, and that we would still have time to visit both if we wanted. And yes, PG, Sarah and I resoloutely did. So, we left Nichan to peaceably wander the grounds, and made our way down the road.

Orchard House was the Alcott family home from 1858-1877. It was here that the Alcotts mingled with the other American transcendentalists such as Thoreau, Emerson, Fuller and Hawthorne. As we toured through the house, I wondered what it must have been like to grow up in such company. Louisa May Alcott's father was a teacher and educator, even if he was not very proficient at providing financially for his family. Her mother was the first paid social worker in Massachusetts. And she held company with some of the most progressive and intelligent people of her day. LMA wrote Little Women while she lived at Orchard House. There are recovered thermal prints of visitors that May (Amy in the book) painted on the walls, and little paintings that she decorated the window sills with. There is indeed a writing couch with the mood pillow that the family used as a barometer of Louisa's approachability. And the parlour where the Alcott girls staged their numerous plays.

And yet, there are differences. There was no one solitary Teddy, he being a composite of many male friends. LMA never married, but was heavily encouraged by her publisher to have Jo marry in the book. May did marry, but it was overseas, and she sent her daughter to Louisa to raise before she (May) passed away. Seems as if Louisa was much more ascerbic and harsh than Jo, but that only makes her seem more real. Louisa served as a nurse for two months during the Civil War, but was forced to quit due to worsening health . She was never the same, but reportedly never regretted the experience. Need to find a good biography so that I can find out more about this fascinating woman.

Back at the Manse, we joined in the tour. What a charming, lived-in house. Weeks later, what I remember most are the scrawled messages and poetry lines that Sophia Hawthorne inscribed with her diamond ring. All in all, it was charming. Afterwards, we just sat on the lawn and under the tree, breathing in the peaceful atmosphere, and luxuriating in the beauty of tree-leaf filtered sunlight. Somehow standing makes me more tired than walking.

Sarah then took us to an organic market. She bought a peck of honey crisp apples, and we munched, and watched dusk descend over the farm. So peaceful and restful. Then it was time to leave. Sarah drove us to Alewife, where we picked up the T.

Back in Boston, I picked up my laptop (huzzah!), then joined Pilgrim Girl and Nichan at Pomodoro. I was in the mood for Italian, and this bistrino seemed to fit the bill. However, it seems as if some people have had really bad experiences there. Hmmm. Well, it might not be for everyone ... payment is cash only, it's quite small and intimate, and the restroom is across the street. But even with all of that, I liked it. The food was tasty and interesting, and it was quite and mellow, with a clear view into the kitchen. We finished the night with cups of gelato down the street.

Rain and impressionism

Up early in the morning. Had left my travel books back in LA, so I gathered up my laptop and T'd it over to Cambridge. The Apple store was in Cambridgeside, which couldn't be too far from Hrvard-town. Right?

Actually, Cambridgeside was a rather tedious busride away from Cambridge, as the nice lady at the Harvard kiosk told me. I wandered through Harvard Yard for a few minutes, dreaming of how Yardstick Man would have looked as a young freshman here, until I shook myself from my reverie, and scuttled off to Cambridgeside to attend to business.

Arrived at the Apple store not a minute too soon. I got the last Genius Bar appointment of the day, beginning in about 30 minutes! When I was finally called, I was able to complete my explanation in complete sentences, having satisfied my internet needs at the other computers in the store, and was able to focus sufficiently on the magnificently colored tattoes on my Genius-guy. Combined with the all-black attire, shaven black hair, Irish skin, and piercing blue eyes, he was quite magnificent. He ran through the same drill as Nichan, then said that I'd have to leave it for closer examination. Ouch. Thankfully, it was still under warranty, and I left hoping that it would be fixed before I had to leave on Friday.

Made my way to the mall exit, to be confronted with buckets of pouring rain. I wasn't surprised, but a bit deflated. Turned around and bought a Boston book at the Border's store, and made a new plan.

Boston Museum of Fine Art. Large, but not as imposing as the Met in NY. I skimmed through the little available of the asian art section (most of the Japanese stuff is being rearranged an not open for viewing). But what I really wanted was Impressionism. It could have been the rain. It could be my upcoming trip to Paris. Whatever, I really delighted in the experiments on light and texture. And I really revelled in the portraits. I'm not very attracted to landscapes. And I really dislike the flatness of pre-Renaissance art, and the pained religious art (is it the the bloodlessness of the subjects?) that followed. And still-lifes bore me. But there's something magnetic and magical about a portrait that captures and communicates the true soul of the sitter. I like Sargent, Cassatt, David, Rembrandt.

And, although I don't generally like modern or contemporary art, I was very struck by the Shy Boy, She Devil and Isis: The Art of Conceptual Craft exhibit. The piece I remember most was a stunning piece of glasswork. Desert FLower by Christopher Ries. From the side, it had the shape of a sail, with a white indentation a third of the way down on the "hypotenuse" side. From the front, one could see that the indentation was laser carved, and branched out to show the most beautiful multi-petaled flower suspended, as it appeared, in mid-air. Absolutely stunning.

Other pieces that captured my imagination
Forest Bench by Peter M. Adams
Ladybird's Requiem by Akino Kondoh
Self Portrait by Ellen Day Hale
Pat Lyon at the Forge by John Neagle
The musical isntrument collection
Naginata weapons traditionally used by samurai women, and the story of Tomoe Gozen
The Painter's Honeymoon by Lord Frederic Leighton
St. Mary Magdalen Penitent by Domenico Fetti
Cecilia Beaux
Caritas by Abbott Handerson Thayer
Aizen, King of Passion, behind the large flower arrangement
10,000 Li Up the Yangtze River by Wang Hui

Met up with PG and Nichan, who had also headed for the museum in the rain. Stopped for some dessert at Finale for dessert, which Nichan graciously hosted. Then they were off to dinner with some friends, and I took myself off to Legal Seafood, which was just across the street. Couldn't decide on one thing, so I got an appetizer tray. The crab cakes are the best I've ever tasted! I've always been disappointed before, but these cakes took the cake. The waitress told me that the secret was using lump-meat. The result was a delicious and delicate drab cake that easily came apart as I picked at the yummy lump.

Hurried back to the house to change, and then I was off to Arlington for some west coast swing on the east coast. Took the T out to Harvard, then got on a bus for Arlington. As the bus was about to pull away, another asian girl hopped on and tried to get directions from the driver. Finally, the helpful woman seated across from her asked her where she was trying to get to. Then the girl started t say something about dancing at an Elk's Lodge, and I found a friend to walk with to Dance Boston. Good thing, too, since the walk involved passing through a dark neighborhood, under an underpass disconcertingly like a scene from Jodie Foster's new movie The Brave One, and a jaunt across a baseball field. Really, the guys who run Dance Boston need to come up with better directions!

Well, YG and I finally got the place, but the girl at the front directed us to the beginner-intermediate lesson, since we were a little late. Jon Schimmel taught the class, which was pretty good, but I was itching for more. When the class ended, we wandered downstairs, where the advanced lesson was ending. Turns out that Bill Cameron (who looks disconcertingly like Antonio Banderas) wasn't teaching, since he'd invited another dancer (from California?) to guest teach. I didn't catch her name, but she was wonderful. Talked all about shaping, and letting the follows have more leeway for creativity in the dance. And though she sounded a bit out of place (using terms like "organic" and "flowing"), I really liked her lesson.

The dancing was a lot of fun. People were really interested when I told them that I was visiting from the west coast. And I did confess that I'm actually a lindy-hopper who does WCS only when I travel. But I might just have to try going out in LA sometime. Even got a chance to dance with Bill. So nice, he came up and introduced himself, since Jon had told him that I'd emailed about visiting. Wanted to, but didn't, ask Bill to dance the next song, since it was fast. But I did gather up my courage and ask for a better song later in the evening. Pure bliss! Also spoke with Ryan and Laura, some other lindy hoppers who were crossing over to WCS. And, got a ride with YG from Amy back to the Alewife T station, so we didn't have to walk back through the scary underpass.

Going to live amongst Friends

So, I worked yesterday. Came home and finished packing, which involved finishing laundry, checking the weather reports in three states, and cleaning up so that I could feel relaxed when i got home. And then I sat down to watch some tv. A mistake, I readily admit. The upshot is that I didn't get to sleep until around 0100-ish. And didn't get up until Girl Friday came to wake me up with the news that the Prime Time shuttle was outside and waiting! Yikes! Quick scramble to get one the clothes I'd laid out, and humbly scamper into the van. And think of FGITW, who is the only friend I know who would volunteer to drive me to the airport (and not try to make me feel guilty), no matter what time my flight.

Took me three flights to get to Boston. Yes, I could have bought non-stop tickets, but that would have drained my purse of $500+, and then I wouldn't have Bryan, the handsome and friendly pilot who I sat with. He was a good luck charm, as certified by the fact that the only empty seat on the plane was the one right between us. So, between having the aisle seat and an empty middle seat, I had plenty of stretching room. And a companionable conversation partner. Married, and settled in Atlanta, Bryan had come to LA to visit a brother who had been in a bad car accident. So, we talked hospitals. Then, we talked about the piloting business. Why flights are delayed. Landing patterns. Airport controllers. And I have a new appreciation for flight attendants, stemming from Bryan's appreciation for them. Interesting that the term "stewardess" has been abandoned for the gender-neutral term "flight attendant." I've never had positive associations with the word "stewardess," to which I always thought of nubile young ladies serving up drinks, food, and fantasies. Then, Bryan talked about how flight attendants are mainly trained to manage passenger safety concerns in event of a catastrophe. And then he used the word "steward" to refer to a male flight attendant, and I had a much different reaction, thinking of protectors. I started to think tangentially about how I perceive titles differently when they are applied to men and women. Male secretaries connote power, as in secretary of state. A female secretary connotes a harried female with a steno-pad and a pen sticking out behind her ear. And I began to have an inkling of why female thespians prefer to be called actors instead of actresses.

In Atlanta, I was seduced by the glossy fashion magazines of a bevy of blonde hipsters. But when I got the the airport mag store, ended up getting issues of Outside magazine's 30th year anniversary issue and The New Republic, two magazines I've never read, but which intrigued me. Bryan of course stayed in Altanta, but his good mojo stayed, since I again had an aisle seat and an empty middle seat.

In Baltimore, hte mojo temporarily departed. The last leg of my trip was delayed a couple of hours. To make up for it, the cosmos saw fit to give me a whole three seats to myself. I arrived in Boston too late to go out for MOnday night dancing, but at least I got to stretch out like I haven't been able to since my childhood, on solitary trans-Pacific flights to visit relatives.


Pilgrim Girl had arranged for us (her, Ni-chan and me) to stay at the Beacon's Hill Friends' House located just a few blocks from the Park Street T station. Here pictured are the chapel, and a typical neighborhood building. As I would later discover, the house is actually two side-by-sides that were joined by taking out the separating wall. There are two managers, a cook, a number of residents, and room for a couple of visiting guests. The situation is really quite cozy. Breakfast is communal ... help youself to anything, and wash up your own dishes. There's a large formal sitting room with a piano and harpsichord. A large courtyard. a chapel for worship. Coin-op washer and dryer. Huge dining room with a table reminiscent of Precious', but with room for twice as many diners. A tv room. And a library. And wireless internet!!! Not all the residents are Quaker, but there's an air of safe congeniality that I liked immensely.

But all was not well in Quaker Zion. Firstly, I'd come too late to go dancing. Secondly, my airport had disappeared from my laptop. Nichan fiddled with it for a while, but didn't want to get too intrusive, if it affected the warranty on my laptop, which I wasn't even sure was still in effect. Anyway, we located an Apple store in the vicinity, and I resolved to go first thing in the morning.

Baby Talk

Got together tonight for Precious' baby shower. When I talked to her about it a few months ago, she had very specific instructions. Low key dinner out with the girls. No dumb shower games. End of story. Wow. I knew there was a reason we were friends! All I had to do was set it up with the restaurant, send out the invites, and enlist the help of Mrs. Activities to organize the group gift.

I got the final money count from Mrs. Activities. However, when I got on-line to choose stuff from the registry list, I was horrified by the shipping costs! They were almost as much as the items themselves! So, I called around to see if the local Babies R Us's had the items in stock. Well, they had the glider, but not the cest of drawers. That made the decision a lot easier. Asked about Box dimensions, figured I could fit it in my car, and drove up to Calabasas to pick it up. However, I believe the item was on sale, because I had a whole of of extra money left. So, I got the bassinet trio, and called it good. However, as I was leaving the store, the selection of baby bags caught my eye, and I was spellbound for another hour. JLITH has been so enthusiastic about the Eddie Bauer diaper bag that she uses for a hospital overnighter, that I felt compelled to see if I could find one suited to my needs. In the end, I left without one, but with a new resolve to do some new internet searches.

The shower was nice. Some people ended up not being able to come because of the BYU/UCLA football game. And, none of the food really appealed to me, having just had a wonderful dinner the night before. Whatever. Anyway, the point was that we were able to get together, have dinner, and celebrate Precious' and Superman's soon to be baby boy. And that was just a bundle of warm and lovely wonderfulness!

Eating family style

So, Wonder Woman has resurrected her version of the Restaurant Club. Exciting, because it means discovering lots of interesting eateries in the LA area.

First up was Orris, a Japanese tapas place over on Sawtelle, the westside's version of J-town.

However, before I get any deeper into this delicious tale, I should provide some background information on my restauranting habits.

As a child, I never went to a lot of restaurants. There was the odd celebratory dinner at Sizzler's, where we all (or, mostly my mother) delighted in the All-you-can-eat popcorn shrimp and salad bar. But mostly we ate at home. And, with a mother who was interested (and generally successful) in experimenting, and a grandmother who had decades of tasty Japanese cooking in her repertoire, it was a good life. An eclectc mix of sukiyaki, lasagne, beef stroganoff over rice, curry, Korean BBQ, ramen and soba, tempura, layered chocolate mousse, sushi and hamburgers. Besides, doing anything (restaurants, visits to Disneyland, music and sports lessons, family vacations and trips to asia) for seven, could never have been cheap.

The one exception to the Sizzler rule was family get-togethers with my father's side of the family. My father was the first of the clan to move out to the United States, but it wasn't too long before the rest of his realtives followed suit. So it was that my grandparents lived in Koreatown, an aunt and her family settled in Orange County, another aunt's family in Saugus, an uncle and family in LA, and a far-off brother on the east coast. Any national holiday was an opportunity to get together in K-town for a large dinner. The type where we'd take up several large circular tables at the Chinese restaurant down the street from my grandparents' apartment, and order tons of food! Exotic vegetables. Sweet and sour pork. Noodles with that savory, black, onion sauce. Shrimp. Cashew chicken. All with steaming bowls of glistening rice in metal bowls with lids. It was free-range eating, as long as our arms could reach the dishes that cavorted merrily on the fascinating lazy Susans.

What I'm trying to say is that single-plate dining is not in my food vocabulary. When I eat out, trying to choose just one dish to order is a trial and ordeal. Of course, there are some things that I am always drawn to. Anything with eggplant, squash, zucchini or succulent mushrooms is automatically appealing. Carmelized onions are also a huge draw. And anything that looks to artfully combine potatoes and garlic is always a benefit. But, on the whole, ordering just one thing is never satisfying. And I do try to experiment with interesting restaurants when I'm travelling solo, but it's always much more gratifying to go to a restaurant with a bunch of other food-sharers, order a plethora of dishes, and share and share alike.

Which brings us back to Orris. It was so fun to look over their menu, and each decide on two dishes. I chose the tempura squash flowers and the pate' with eggplant (surprise, surprise). And when it came to ordering, our likewise delicious waiter volunteered to bring everything to our table portioned for eight (me, Wonder Woman, T Diddy, Venetian, Party Girl, Superman, Daddy-O and DW). And so began the parade of food. It was so tasty. Enough of each dish to tantalize the palate, with the excitement of more to come. Don't get me wrong, we cleaned each plate. And it was a small enough group to be able to converse with each person at the table. The beet dish was divine. And we had enough fish dishes to satisfy my craving. But the best was the pate' with eggplant. Small, succulent and divine.

In the end, the meal was a tad more costly than we'd anticipated. Our delicious waiter had indeed portioned the plates for eight, instead of whatever would have traditionally come on a dish. However, we were too happy to make a fuss, and $50 per person was not outrageous for the lovely feast we had just partaken of.

Leaving the restaurant was the hard part. We'd had such a good time. Plus, the huddled body warmth was keeping us seated (on the patio, just a foot or two too far from the heaters). As we walked DW to her car, I appropriated the arms of Venetian and T Diddy to make a Dora-sandwich to conserve heat. We then bid farewell to Venetian (who I'm so glad has come to our latest gatherings), and piled into T Diddy's car for the ride home.

How boys live

Tonight we got together for a small dinner at Orris. However, the events leading up to the dinner deserve their own post, and so I give it to you here.

Left my apartment around 6pm. Thought I'd get to the restaurant a little early, find parking, and while away my time in the Japanese deli. As I was leaving, I called T Diddy to see if he was interested in carpooling over. Like usual, I got his machine, Left a message, then started driving. When I turned on to Olympic, I glanced down the street and thought to myself, "It's so close. Why not walk?" And once the idea came, I couldn't get rid of it. So I turned around and parked my car back at my apartment. Just as I was opening my cardoor, who should call but T Diddy, who was definitely interested in ridesharing. So, I popped back into my car and headed over to his place.

When I walked in the door, he handed me a gun. No, not a realy gun. It was for BB's (an old prop of Daddy-O's). Not that I knew this ... I'd never touched a gun in my entire life, and I know that TD has plenty of them. After a brief moment of shock, he pointed my gaze toward a miniature target, nd told me to entertain myself while he groomed his hair. So, I tried it. However, the paper target had so many holes in it already, that I couldn't tell if I was hitting it or not. At which point Daddy-O came in (telling me to point the gun down and take my finger off of the trigger) and loaded a new paper taget sheet for me. And, when they finally told me how to sight down the barrel, I even made some on-point hits. And then I noted that the trigger stuck a little. At which point T Diddy popped back into his room, emerged, and put another gun in my hand. A real one. Told me to try the trigger. I might have given him a crazed look. Until he reassured me that there were no bullets in it. So I squeezed. Smooth ...

My adventures might have ended there. But they didn't. Apparently there were other targets to be explored. So, we moved into the backyard. Where T Diddy assembled his bow, and put up a cardboard box target with the outline of a man on it ... and an area in the chest specifically marked as the kill-zone. Which, after a try or two, I managed to hit ... TWICE. Who knew that I would be such a success at close-range practice?

Then, Daddy-O directed my gaze to yet another target ... a wood stump with concentric circles painted on, set up in front of a protective backdrop, set up on front of a shed. And he brought out his knives and his hatchet! I know this sounds like a set-up of a bad horror movie, but I was intrigued. Is this what boys do in their spare time? I would have liked to try to knives, but even the boys looked to have trouble getting them to stick, even when they did hit the target. And plus, they were getting a little too engrossed to want to share!

Playing Indoors

The heat being almost intolerable, our Labor Day BBQ was moved into the living room, where we could crank up the a/c to a livable level. Many thanks to Superman and T Diddy, who braved the harsh elements to sear our hamburger patties and hot doggies. I really wish I could write more about it, because I know that I had a good time. However it's been almost a month, and my blog memory is full from more recent adventures!

On not Laboring over the weekend

Down to San Diego this weekend. Girls only. Hosted by Lovely Lady.

Drove down with Shimai J. Need to reiterate that I don't really like driving. Except that I love taking road trips with congenial company. It's almost like an extended meal. Except that there's no food to distract you, so there's an even bigger imperative for conversation. Just reinforces my supposition that most meaningful conversation occurs when the parties involved are seated.

One of the things that I appreciate so much about Shimai J is that I perceive her viewpoint to be very personally conservative, and yet very open (charitable?) when focused on others. In other words, she's intelligent without being judgemental.

At one point, we were talking about how the language of the endowment ceremony is very patriarchal, and doesn't correlate to how I believe that God will see or treat us. Gospe according to Dora: like the restriction of priesthood from the blacks, I believe that this will change when the membership of the church are ready for more knowledge. At first, Shimai J quite disagreed with me, saying that we would never be in a position of being married to a man who justified his wrong actions solely by his possession of the priesthood. Yet, as we parsed it out, I think she could understand my argument that it doesn't matter if we wouldn't ever place ourselves in that situation. Just the fact that the literal interpretation of the endowment ceremony allows for that very real interpretation. And, in the end, as Wonder Woman likes to say, we should say what we mean, especially in such important ceremonies as these.

Finally got down to Del Mar around 1230-ish, having endured lot of stop and go traffic along the way. Found Lovely Lady and Feminist A sunning themselves in the backyard around the inviting pool. So, we quickly changed into our suits and joined in. For me, this entailed a lot of moving around, to obtain the perfect amount of water contact (lower legs dropped down into the pool), sun exposure (on my legs and torso), and shade (on my face). What I really needed was a back wedge so that I could recline the top half of my body, while sitting directly on the ground and dangling my legs into the pool. That and the fact that I'm not a sit-around-and-tan kind of woman.

Yes, there was some shopping. W did check out the outlet mall. But I am pleased to announce that my resolve held, and I did not spend nary a cent.

Fell asleep during some late night conversation, relaxing in the Lazy Boy in the living room. It drew me in and enchanted me. Woke up around 0400, and went up to bed. Tossed around for 30 minutes until I returned to the magical spot downstairs and resumed my somnolence.

The morning was again sparking and beautiful, if still a tad hot, but better than LA. Kerri had arrived, making our five-some complete. Interesting conversations throughout the weekend. The one I remember most is Feminist A talking about her work ... she is a social worker with the state, and works with adoptions. And since we'd had some discussion over this at the Exponent II Blog, I was very interested. Someday, I would like to foster or adopt a child or two. I don't know that I will ever actually bear a child, but I am interested in providing a loving home for a child in need. And I know that I'm not the only single LDS woman who sees this as a distinct possibility in my future. So, I asked Feminist A if she would be interested in writing something up for the X2 blog, and she seemed really enthusiastic. Just can't wait!

The five of us did go down for sacrament at the Del Mar building, which was coincidentally hosting a singles conference. In my opinion, this year was worse than last year. The main speakers were a couple, the husband an Area Authority Seventy, and his wife, a Relief Society President. Wife seemed pleasant enough. My main argument with her was that during her talk, she started to compliment a woman in her ward. Not that that's bad, but she complimented her by saying that the woman was wonderful because her children had such strong testimonies of the gospel. There was no mention of the woman herself having a strong testimony, or being very sharitable and service-minded, or indeed anything personal about the woman. She just had good kids. Which is admirable, but doesn't necessarily say anything about the woman's parenting skills. Especially when the wife went on to describe the oman having a meltdown at church. The second thing that seemed very wrong was that the wife said that it had been very difficult getting herr many children ready for church on Sundays because her husband was never around, implying that he was always at meetings, or had other big responsibilities to attend to.

The Husband had a very genial air. An air that was also very condescending, although he probably wasn't cognizant of the fact that he talked to an audience of 31+ years of age, who I'm supposing had mostly professional careers. I felt like I was in a youth morality discussion. It also didn't help that both he and his wife used mostly child-rearing examples to illustrate their point. Of course, it's possible that there were many single parents in the congregation. Or, maybe they just had no idea of what to talk about, or how to do it for this very homogenous group. Talk about needing to understand your audience! Also, i thought it was very sad that he just wasn't available for his children. I believe he even complimented his wife on what a fine job she did with raising the children. Very, very sad.

Back at the house, we talked through the disurbing aspects of the talk as we prepared for dinner. Al fresco, poolside dining on Lovely Lady's wonderful rib recipe. Her younger brother showed up for dinner, and was quite the entertainer. I like meeting my friends' families. Somehow people make so much more sense when placed against the backdrop of the family scene.

After dinner and cleaning up, Shimai J and I packed up the car and headed back home. Had thought about stopping by at Pilgrim Girl and Nichan's, but we were just tired and hot, and wanted to be home, so we zipped on by on the blessedly congestion-free 405 freeway.

Getting back into the swing of things

After work headed up to Pasadena for the first time in a long time. Ankle has been feeling better, if still a little stiff, and I'm ready to dance again.

Hot hot hot! The heat makes everything a little more unbearable. However, the excitement at Lindy Groove is palpable. There must have been at least 200 people taking the beginning and intermediate classes. I'm excited that so many people are learning to dance.

After the lesson, dived right in, and took as many dances as I could handle. Danced two songs in a row with Ben Yau. We kept on missing hand holds during free spins, at which point I would add an extra turn. Ben realized that I'm much taller than most of the follows he dances with, and that he was reaching for my hand much lower than he should have. Or was it that I should have moved my hand lower? Anyway, he complimented me on being a good follow (not stopping [turning, etc] until he lead it), and I glowed.

Had time to dance a couple with His Vickness and Vincerator as well, two of my favorite dancing boyfriends. They are both so fluid and creative. I never feel boxed in by them as we dance.

Cut out around 2145 to go meet Mr. Giggles and Viola-trice just down the street to see Once again. Viola-trice had never seen it before, I'd loaned her my soundtrack at the BBQ, and Mr. Giggles invited me along to a convenient show.

One of the things I love best about this movie is the jamming scenes. As I watched, I felt sad that I am not intimate enough with music to improvise along with other musicians. It seems even more regrettable as I prepare music for Christmas festivities, and wish I were as talented as Hella-Mormon and her friends, who used to have such fantastic piano parties ... someone pounding away at the piano with everyone else moshed in around, trying to sing from the lyrics on the page, or from memory. And yet, I realized that dancing fills this desire for me. A desire to connect and create with another human being. In the space of a few minutes, if the music is right, and the partnership firm, I feel as if I'm creating a link to another human being, where we can express what the music brings out, and even learn something new about myself and the other person.

I also love the ending. I'm a firm believer in carrying out one's duty. In today's world of flaky, irresponsible behaviour, I find comfort in believing that good things come when we fulfill our obligations, and do the things we know are right.

The first (and last) picnic BBQ of the summer

As Wilson has noticed, we haven't had a BBQ all summer. Quite sad, really. So, to remedy the catastrophe, I decided to try and squeeze one in. Sent out an email to a bunch of the old stand-by's, and the extracurricular RS ladies. Also invited Canadian Poet, as he was newly back in the area; Viola-trice who I'd invited on a whim, having seen her recently active on linkup; and Neurotrauma, another RN that I'd been introduced to, and who attends my ward, and who I coincidentally sat next to in sacrament meeting. Honestly, I had no idea who was actually going to come, but since I'de made it a potluck event, I figured that if no one did, I wouldn't be the poorer in any way.

Turned out that about 20 people came, which was perfect. Good mix of girls and guys. Six of our married friends blessed us with their presence, and those of their fun kids. And some wonderful people, taking my advice to heart, brought along a friend to add to the mix. Highlights of the evening: getting Mr. Giggles and HSAAL in on my plans for a future party, catching up with Viola-trice and Canadian Poet, hearing about T Diddy's mistaken identity arrest in Paris, putting a face to the author of La Dolce Vespa, finding out that other people were interested in reviving and hosting Safehouse dinners, and talking shop with Neurotrauma (which is a refelction on her nursing specialty, not her mental status).

I've got to say that I love hosting casual potluck dinners. I find that I'm too uptight (especially with non-RSVP-ers) to host seated dinners where I do all the cooking. It wouldn't be too bad if I had a few good friends who were able to commit to an evening. But most people I know have so much going on that it's never a sure thing if they are going to be free. Plus, I'm still in the mode of trying to meet a lot of people and expand my current circle. So, potlucks are perfect. Someday I hope to graduate to the seated dinner.

Anyway, it was a great night. Here's to the resuscitation of fun Safehouse dinners!

Behind the orange curtain again

Haircut with Nicki today. Shears is still out due to more surgery on her foot. Talking with hairstylists while they are working on me is always a little awkward. Firstly, they really aren't generally my close friends, so chitchat is generally shallow and uninteresting. Secondly, there are few things that make me feel less attractive than how I feel while me hair is being cut. No makeup, under bright lights, hair plastered to my head. It's just not pretty.

But today, I was bubbling over with travel plans. And when I told Nicki about everything that was in the works, she called over a German girl that also worked in the shop, and we compared notes on what our plans were. Then, Nicki had her assistant come over and review what she had learned in her most recent class, almost like a mother asking her daughter what she'd learned in kindergarden that day. And it was really cool to hear the assistant try to verbalize the new things that were swirling around in her head, as Nicki guided her through it.

I like the cut. It's really layered, and gives me a lot of options. I'm on the brink of wanting to chop it all off, and have it super short like I did when I graduated from UCI. But maybe I'll be able to forestall the longings. I foresee that I will become a bun-addict like Perky and Charming.

Dropped by quickly at the apartment to get some things (forgetting the cd's I'd meant to give to some OC peeps), and I raced against traffic down to Irvine for Madwoman's birthday dinner. Traffic was not kind. Got down to UCI, got the things for the caprese salad at Trader Joe's (love this place!), and headed off to Madwoman's, since I didn't even know where Pilgrim Girl and Ni-Chan lived, since they'd jut recently moved.

Fabulous to catch up with everyone, having not seen them hardly at all this summer. Not having DOT meetings has been a blessing and a curse this summer. Blessing because I've had much more time to do important things up in LA, which generally got pushed aside when there are regular DOT meetings. It's surprising how much of my Wednesdays were just swallowed up in all the driving. But it's been a curse, since I really do miss the discussion and the friends.

In a couple weeks PG, NC and I leave to go explore Boston for a few days. Then, Madwoman and Poetess join us and we meet up with other Exponent II-er's at the retreat. And after all that, I head over to Raleigh to spend a couple days with Wry-an and Georgia Peach.

The coolest idea I've ever heard about!

So, there I was. Bored. Had come home from dinner with a friend who had recently gotten back from travelling around the world ... seriously ... and heard all about his adventures. I was insanely jealous. Started looking around a travel thread. And found a reference to CouchSurfing.

Huh?

Made a new tab and opened the page.

...

And didn't come up for air until an hour later! This had got to be the most amazing thing I've ever heard about (Well, maybe not the most amazing thing ever, but really, really close up there, and definitely the most exciting thing I've heard about in the past three days)! Sounds like what happens at Lindy Exchanges, but more secure. Maybe closer to hostelling, which I'm a fan of (provided the bathrooms are clean). I can't even begin to explain how excited I am about this, especially with my travel plans next year. I've always said that, despite the "amazing" factor, what makes travel so fun is the sharing ... with friends I'm travelling with, or friends I'm travelling to.

The site seems huge! I only read the newbie info stuff, made a profile, and did a tentative search of one destination. But there are international discussion boards, and events, etc etc. I had to stop before I got totally sucked in for the night.

Anyway, take a look. If you've had any experiences with this organization or any similar to it, I'd love to hear about them. Seems too good to be true, and I'm desperately hoping it's not.

topic

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury ...

(from lawcomix.com)

After work, drove into LA to participate in Wonder Woman's mock jury selection exercise for the class she's teaching. This was the first week of the class that WW is co-teaching with a fellow attorney, and she had a bunch of us come to act as jurors so that her students could try their hand at jury selection questions, nd learn subtle techniques of how to use and influence the jury pool. Party Girl, Lovely Lady, T Diddy, myself, and two other attorneys from the office showed up for the fun.

It was interesting to see the students struggle through, try to grasp the concept of how to relate to the jury, encourage trust, weed out who would be good/bad jurors for their part of the "case," and influence how the jurors perceived certain bits of information based on presentation and questioning. Some were pretty good, like the two young-professional looking women down in the front. Others looked a little lost, like the young guy in the middle back. And then there was the Adam Goldberg-esque looking kid on the far side who latched on to my last name, and kept addressing questions to me as, "MS. X, do you think, given your professional background, you could be impartial ..." after which all the students addressed me as Ms. X, eventhough all the other jurors were able to keep annonymous with the ubiquitous titles of Juror #1 (2, 3, 4, etc). T Diddy seemed to think that AG#2 was really sharp and would be the best student in the class, and eventually work as a public defender. I thought AG#2 looked like a rebel, and more likely to work in entertainment, where the pay was high, and the clients more tolerable of maverick tendencies.

Also very interesting to see WW in her element, expounding on her specialty, to (and with) those who are also in the field. It's fascinating to see my friends in action at work.

If I had a cool mil ...

Went to the dentist today. The same one that Karaoke Dentist referred me to. And who I still go to, having had some bad experiences with unproficient &/or shady dentists. Despite the fact that his office is in Torrance. And maybe for the fact that he's the only dentist that I've found I can enjoy yammering on while my mouth is otherwise occupied. And, maybe that he has really good hygenists that don't hurt me.

Anyway ... I arrived early. Had my Liberty book all ready to read. Until my eye spotted a snazzy magazine. So, it was a high end men's magazine. So what. The cover was laden with some of the "97 best designs," and I had to have a look-see.

And, besides the world's smallest grill, designer Stefan Andren, some sleek techno gadgets, and a cool outdoor furniture set that stacks up into a rocketship, I found the house I would definitely buy if I had $800,000.00, plus money for land, permits, etc etc ...

Steve Glenn's luxury pre-fab house. Dat dada Daaaaaaa! Isn't it beautiful?

"Hold on a minute, Dora," you might say. "Your apartment looks nothing like this. What happened to faux painted walls, colonial, dark wood furniture, and vibrant tapestries? And you have way too much stuff in closets, and are way too much of a privacy freak to live in such a sparse home with no curtains!"

"So what," I'd counter. "Have you taken into account all the cool environmental features that this house exhibits? Great water efficiency. Use of recycled materials. Supremely energy efficient. All that open space! And it would be a fantastic place to park my new hybrid car!" Hey, as long as I'm dreaming, why not dream big?

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the house. Much to the annoyance of the dental hygienist who was trying to clean my teeth. But some things are just too riveting to turn away from.

Observing nesting habits

Despite the oppressive heat, I drove out to Burbank to help Precious and Superman move a few things out to their new place in Pasadena. Sure, it was a good time to meet with Dynamic Mommy (Precious' mother) and update her on the baby shower (and hear about her new passion: teaching retirees how to talk about their lives to a camcorder, and edit together dvd's for their children and grandchildren!). And it felt good to move things that the heavily pregnant Precious shouldn't, and push my ankle a bit. But I might just have wanted an advanced screening of the new house, and talk to them about how they did it.

Buying a house seems like such a major ordeal. Everyone I know who's bought a house seems to get sucked into it ... disappearing from social events, never going on vacation, spending all their money into fixing up the house and buying appliances, worrying about gophers and plumbing and termites.

And yet, I am envious. A home. Somewhere to totally invest in, emotionally as well as financially. Freedom to get that snuggly cat and leaning labradoodle I've been dreaming about. Not being disgusted by partially washed dishes in the dish rack. Where I can organize, and clean (or not) to my heart's content. A place to belong.

~~~

Made it back to the west side in time to shower off the swelterings of the day, and go see Mrs. Activities's latest mini-Shakepearre productions. Small, amateur, heavily edited down, with whatever talent is available from the YSA's at church. Enjoyable ... if only to see people that I know doing something they find a lot of joy in.

First part was "Much Ado About Nothing." Satine put everyone else to shame. Hard to be very excited about it because it borrowed very heavily from this brilliant version directed by Kenneth Branagh, which I just adore. The borrowing was too problematic, but the bungled lines and unequal performances between Satine and the rest of the cast was. The best parts of the skit were a) Satine in general, b) Benedick's fumbling under the table, and c) thie curious amalgam of Hey Nonny Nonny and What You Do To Me.

The second part, A Midsummer Night's Dream was much better. Mrs. Activities had weighted the more vivacious and talented actors (although there were some exceptions) to this performance. The most entertaining was Puck ... an energetic slip of a girl who absolutely buzzed and mischiefed across the stage all performance long. Helena (played by Puck's sister) was also notable. The gag with the wig almost brought hysterical tears to my eyes.

All in all, kudos to Mrs. Activities. No an easy to task to do what she did. But a fun time was had by all, and that's the point, I guess.

Flags and nuts

Driving to work this morning, there was more environmentally-minded coverage of Russia planting a flag to claim seas under the north pole. And I was suddenly reminded of one my favorite Eddie Izzard clips ... "Do you have a flag?". I'll bet that Peter MacKay, Canada's prime minister, had no idea that he was echoing the standup comedy of a british transvestite of the executive persuasion.

Work today wasn't bad. At least at first.

But by 1300, we'd transferred two patients out, I'd given up my patient to someone else, and had taken over a doozy of a new admit, we'd had one child code and die, admitted two post-op patients, and taken another really sick heme-onc-er from the floor. It was ugly.

The patient I took over was a doozy, as I've said before. Late teen. Congenital hydrocephalus, ventriculo-peritoneal shunt with multiple revisions, and concerning mental changes overnight. They brought her down, and a neurosurgeon placed a ventriculostomy to monitor pressure within the brain, and drain exra cerebrospinal fluid. I took over just as he was finishing. Besides all the blood, the patient was just starting to wake up from the propofol infusion she'd been getting during the procedure ... and she was totally psycho. Speech was garbled. Wasn't oriented to time or place. Repeatedly asked for people who weren't in the room, despite being reoriented. Combative in bed. Agitated. Crying. Intracranial pressures in the 40-80's. Bullied the ICU docs (who were concentrating on the sick admit from heme-onc) into giving her sedation and pain meds. But still she didn't calm down for another hour or so.

When she eventually attained a restful state, I hd a little quiet time to catch up on her orders. Had to get the resident to change all her oral medicine to IV, since she was very lethargic, and wasn't following commands.

Then had to take my patient down for a CT scan.

Got back, and she went all nuts again. And really, I don't mind taking care of really sick patients. Actuslly, I relish it. But I am just not wired right to take care of patients with psychotic issues, the mentally disturbed, or gerontic patients.

CT results came back. Catheter not in an optimal position. ICU fellows wrote for a CT-guided angio. Luckily (for me, at least), there was already a procedure going on, and my patient would have to wait until after change of shift.

All in all, a brutal day. Had had plans to go out with some co-workers that night, but I totally bailed.

Instead, I came home and de-stressed by finding some of my other favorite Eddie clips available on-line. Caution, some of these clips are a bit more linguistically colorful ...
Religion
Evil Giraffe
Covered in bees

Entertaining stuff

Have been lurking around a bit, and have been selfishly enjoying some "new" sites. And, as I'm trying to be less selfish, here they are (in alphabetical, rather than preferential, order).

Bored Beyond Belief

Hubbhub

Jim's Matrix

La Dolce Vespa

Lincoln Thomas

Your Bird


These next two aren't exactly new, but I thought a formal introduction was in order.

Workman's Waste of Time, for the latest updates on the fascinating events in the Faroe Islands.

Dooce, who although has some off-coloredness (despite being blindingly white), always amuses.


And, lastly. I've added a new sidebar with some links to some spectacular eye candy.

Second laugh at second city

Met up with Socrates for dinner and another show at Second City, where his sister is taking improv/acting classes. Mother Socrates was also there ... being the supportive mother by setting up the tripod and camcorder for Sister Socrates. MS reminds me of my own mother: trim, efficient, dedicated to family with that specifically Japanese mothering that's difficult to explain but easy to recognize.

The show was a lot of fun. SS is in an advanced class, and performed material written by the advanced writing class. I think my favorite person was the short swarthy guy, but maybe that's because he scooted across the stage and eaped at the audience. That, and the Barack Obama parody rap that Sister Socrates (curly locks imprisoned under a wig, and dressed up in a suit) busted out with in a majorly funny way. Hmmm ... and the "Didn't even give the head nod!?!?!" skit. But maybe that's because I have a quite rational hatred of rude drivers who don't acknowledge my own generous civility.

For the love of books, and the sake of readers

Spent the morning making a mock-up of Precious' baby shower invitations. Am so excited to do this. We're doing such a nice and low-key shower that it's an absolute pleasure. No ridiculous shower games ... like melting candy bars in diapers in the microwave, and having people guess which candy bar it is ... what a relief! Anyway, after going through several ideas, I finally came up with the perfect one. Just have to make one reservation, then the invites are ready to go.

Came home and set up my printer. This would seem to be a virtue, if only I didn't mention that it's been a few years in the making. Didn't have the appropriate cable, then lost track of the power cable, then just being lazy. It's the free printer that came with my laptop, so I never felt too guilty. However, when I went up to use Wonder Woman's printer, I was struck by the uncomfortablly cramped space it's in now that the rat cage (yes, pet rats!) is situated in her sitting room. And that, my friends, is what motivated me to finally set up my printer!

After such a productive day. I felt that a reward was in order. So, I printed (on my newly set-up printer) one of the irritatingly limited time offer Borders coupons, and got the book I've had my eye on, Liberty: The Lives and Times of Six Women in Revolutionary France, by Lucy Moore. I'e had my eye on this for a number of weeks, but my coupons kept expiring before I used them, and I was determined not to pay full price.

While looking around, I also was enchanted by The Canon: A Whirligig Tour of the Beautiful Basics of Science, by Natalie Angier. However, as I was out of coupons, I put it on my mental wish list. Then having gotten home and looked it up on Amazon, I decided to order it, along with
Woman: An Intimate Geography, by the same author. I'm hopeful that these will be as good as the writing of Atul Gawande, whose writing I adore, and who was one of the MacArthur Fellow awardees in 2007.

Anyway, it had occurred to me that I do a lot of book pumping via Amazon. And it never really bothered me. Until I read about The Open Library over at Bored Beyond Belief. And really, it doesn't really bother me enough to stop linking to books over at Amazon. But I'm excited about having books catalogued, and maybe even available on-line. Sort of like an imdb.com for books.

Anyway, someday I will have a house. And in that house will be a library. Maybe not as big as the one in Beauty and the Beast (my favorite Disney animated feature ... yes, woo me with books!), but you get the idea.

And, I must send a shoutout to Wry-an, who got me into reading non-fiction, and who generally has good taste in books ... except for his Flannery O'Connor fetish.

Oh, there I am!

So, I spent the whole day feeling really ill. It was my own fault, of course. Having failed to pick up a prescription from the pharmacy on Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and most of Tuesday, I doubled up on Tuesday night and again on Wednesday morning to get caught up. Foolish, foolish Dora. Never again do I want to feel that ill again unless I'm actually preggers.

Got myself up out of bed and drove up to the valley to get fitted for my contacts. No, not the colored ones, but the regular ones to make sure the prescription is good enough to go to the next step. They felt, well, thick. It's been about eight years since I've worn contact lenses with any regularity. Not that I wear my glasses any more than I have to. However, after having my idiopathic bilateral cataracts removed, and the concomittant vision correction, I see well enough without lenses to, say go dancing or out to dinner without them.

Bad vision is pretty much hereditary in my family. Bad genes, and a tendency to read, a lot. From the age of seven, when my teacher realized that I was squinting a lot, I wore glasses, making for many geeky school pictures, and ridiculous teasing from insecure bullies. I remember one particularly hideous family picture when we were all wearing glasses ... parents, four children, maternal grandmother and ... Correct that, my paternal grandparents were the only ones not wearing glasses. Anyway, I'm sure the photographer was blinded by the reflections of the flash. Why didn't the jerk suggest that we take them off?

And then, my life suddenly changed. The summer I graduated from elementary school, I blossomed. Contact lenses, permed hair, pierced ears (finally!), frosted blue eyeliner, and babysitting income to buy fun clothes. Funny how there was always money for music lessons and instruments, camping trips, visits to Japan, and sports endeavors, while there was never money for the madras shorts, Izod polo shirts and Members Only jackets I longed for. Entered junior high school with no remnants of my geekiness showing, except for a strong academic drive. However, even that was fashionable at my magnet program.

So, the bliss continued through to college. Where I decided to major in biological sciences, which required year-long courses in both basic and organic chemistry. Where we were terrorized into buying glasses because the vapors from the malevolent creations in the bunsen burners would cause contact lenses to excruciatingly disfigure our eyeballs. Even worse, I had to wear the glasses under lab goggles. It was just too cruel.

After college, I wore my contact full time again. Even dabbled with gas-permeables (hard) contact. But those were decidedly not comfortable. Then, in the late nineties and early 00's, I had both cataracts develop, and had them both removed. And I could see well enough without any aids, the first time in twenty-or-so. Well, at least well enough to do the afore-mentioned dancing and dinners.

Then, due to an abundance of money in my health-care savings account (but, sadly, not in my actual fun-money account), I decided to get contacts again.

So, they felt thick in my eyes. But it was such a revelation to see my face in the many mirrors of the Lens Crafters store. So that's what I look like, without all the haziness. It was like discovering my face all over again. And it put a smile on my face.

That is, until I was making my repeat appointment with the cute optometrist. As he was asking me if I would like lens solution and a case, I felt the nausea well up uncontrollably. I tried to quell it, but it just kept coming ... the feeling, not the actual chunks. Feeling that it would be a bad thing to toss my cookies on carpet, I asked the eye guy where the nearest bathroom was, since I was feeling really sick. At first he didn't get it, and I thought the delay would push me over the edge. I repeated my self, he saw my greenish tinge, and hurriedly pointed me to some distant location out the store and down the hall. Which made me only want to toss my cookies all over his white lab coat. Then, the sympathetic and smart optical tech gave me an empty trashcan in case I didn't make it.

Got myself out of the store, and leaned against the nearest lonely corner and held the trashcan against the wall. Luckily, the nausea, one of the worst feelings in the world, soon faded. I stopped that awful salivating, and the diaphoresis vanished as soon as it had started. I walked back into the store and gave them back the trashcan. It's funny how people shy away from the nauseated. I wanted to explain that I wasn't contagious, only over-medicated. But I just wasn't in the mood. So, I turned to go. Then had to turn around again (ooo, not good), and asked for the lens solution and case again. I almost laughed at the timidity with which the eye guy gave me the package.

Headed for the homestead. No one home. All the better to lie down and sleep it off. Dad came home first. Talked about Bork's offer from the law firm where's he's been interning this summer. Excited to have him, Genie and the Beans close by, at least for the next little bit. Also chatted about how the stake presidency has dropped the ball on the mid-singles magnet ward. I'm disappointed in them, but have decided to take matters into my own hands. My extracurricular, alternative RS is just the beginning.

Mom came home for just a little bit, before going to one of the pre-season tax classes. Updated her on happenings in general. She reiterated her desire for me and JLITH to marry. She couched it in terms of wanting more grandchildren, but I think she just wants to see us happy, and thinks that marriage and children will be a very big part of that. Most of the time I think the same, but it just doesn't seem to mesh with the reality of my current life. And most of the time I'm quite philosophical about it. But today, I was sad that my mother was sad for me. However, it takes two to tango. And to lindy-hop, bal-swing, west coast swing and nightclub two step. Otherwise, it's just tap dancing.

When both parents had gone out for their evening activities, I left as well. Started the drive back to LA (with a short detour to Costco). Got a call from a friend. Asked if I was going to the summer dance series, inasmuch as they were teaching lindy hop tonight and next week. I confessed to a lingering desire to go, not only to condescend to whoever was going to teach the awful savoy-styled lindy that is popular at BYU, but because I haven't danced in almost a week, ever since the nefarious twisting of the ankle. After a few minutes of chatting, I knew that I wanted to go. Got myself home, took some advil, and iced the ankle, and headed over with Girl Friday.

Walked into the cultural hall, very prepared to exude lindy-snottiness. And had to stifle it in my delight ... Brittany and Marshall were teaching. Knew Marshall from years of dancing. He's a great dancer, and does the most amazing splits move. And Brittany? I knew that she was LDS, but it seems like just the other week that she was talking about graduating from high school. Plus I thought she lived rather far away, and hadn't connected her with the Santa Monica crowd at all. Anyway, she's a great lindy dancer, and small enough that most leads feel comfortable doing aerials with her.

So, I swallowed my snottiness (ick, yuck), and jumped in. Was alternatingly a follow or a lead, as the uneven numbers changed. Of course, there were more women, but it wasn't bad. Helped a lot of the girls with key pointers. And taught some of they latecomer guys (those that weren't too stuck-up to take lead advice from a woman) what they had missed. Overall, Brittany and Marshall did well. It's very ambitious to teach a lindy lesson in an hour to mostly non-dancers. Sure, there were several key points that they didn't think to cover ... opening up for a small rock-step when sending the girl out with the underarm turn, etc ... but overall they did a great job, and everyone had fun.

When the lesson broke up, talked a bit with White Boy and Satine. Danced a little lindy with White Boy, reviewed some stuff. Watched B & M cut it up a bit. Then Marshall asked me to dance a song. Fun fun fun! I'm probably a decade older than he is, but those types of distinctions seem to fade when the dancing is good. So great to be dancing after missing out on a week of it.

Got home and watched SYTYCD. I think the final four should be Sabra, Danny, Neil and Lacey. Sabra is so talented, she just lights up when she dances. Danny and Neil have such pretty bodies, and move really well. Danny is better than Neil, that's not in doubt. But Neil has improved by leaps and bounds. If only he wouldn't hunch his shoulders and sink his head and neck down. And Lacey is really good. I think it is a given that she will be in the final four, if only because she has such a large connection of dancing family and friends who are absolutely invested in getting her there. When all is said and dance, it's as much a popularity contest as it is a dancing contest.

And lastly, got some late night chuckles from Workman's take on the sheepish tale. I’m glad that it has been recorded for posterity. Even if it only gets funnier with each retelling. Sort of like FGITW falling in to the canals of Venice.

The other famous Potter

The other week, in post-Curry-and-Catan languid girl-talk, Jbeany recommended Miss Potter, a romantic biopic of H. Beatrix Potter, author and artist of the Peter Rabbit children's books. Maybe it was Jbeany saying that she liked to movie so much that after watching it on dvd, she immediately went out and bought it. Or maybe it was because she recounted a scene that extolled the virtues of a single woman's life. Whichever, I knew that this would be the next film I wanted the girls to get together to watch.

So, there we were. Nine women. One married. One divorced. Most of us unmarried and single. One student. Three with master's degrees. Two and a half women representing minorities. Originally from four different states. Found out a little more about these women that I'm so interested in getting to know. Excited about my alternative Relief Society.

We potlucked it, then moved to the living room to settle in.

I really liked the film. It was ... charming. As much as I am generally indifferent to Renee Zellweger, I forgot her as she became Beatrix. I was smitten with her relationship with her publisher (played by an endearing Ewan McGreggor), and delighted with her friendship with her publisher's sister (engagingly played by Emily Watson). I was dumbfounded when tragedy struck, eventhough I half-way expected it to happen (no one gets to be that happy, not even in the movies). And I was inspired by all the other things that Potter did with the rest of her life ... caretaker, farm owner, conservator, sheep breeder, scientific artist. She did spectacular things during her life, even when it must have seemed like it was over.

In short, I wholeheartedly recommend the film. Watch it. Then watch the special features. Potter was a fascinating woman. And the Lakes District goes down on my list of places to visit ... along with Prince Edwards Island, the Secret Annex in Amsterdam, and the Austen estate in Chawton.

It's tough being the Fearless Leader

Did charge today ... ideal, because I wasn't as hindered by my ridiculous gimped up ankle. Also, it's a Saturday, which means no admissions for scheduled surgeries, and no patients that have to travel for special prcedures, and less physician traffic for consults and follow-ups. And, as a bonus, I had TS as team leader ... or unit slave, as the position is more colloquially called.

Wasn't a bad day. Sent one patient directly home from the unit. Transferred three patients to the floor. Admitted one non-ICU patient to start nightly BIPAP. Got three sick calls, which wasn't ideal. And had to deal with one family crisis.

I've been thinking a lot about our really sick, chronic patients. Partially due to this post on DS and this other post on a child who had an in utero CMV infection. We see a wide variety of chronically sick patients, mostly in the winter time. In the PICU, summer is trauma season, and winter is respiratory season. So, in the winter, we see a lot of chronically ill patients, who suffer from a variety of congenital or chromosomal disorders. We see kids who are very much loved and well-cared for, and those who have been institutionalized because their parents lack the desire or ability to care for them. We see families who rally around a sick child, and those that unravel with chronic illness. We see those who put the best interests of the child above any other consideration, and those who prolong a child's suffering for their own needs. It's thorny, to say the least.

Today, I had one family that was in a lot of pain. An older couple, had been through years of fertility treatments to obtain their hearts' desire. Finally, their wish came true, but with a twist. Their eagerly anticipated baby had a non-hereditary syndrome that encompassed many congenital anomalies, affecting almost every organ system, with the outlook of a life filled with hospitalizations and surgical procedures. Added to this fact that the couple, although settled in the US, is from a first world country with socialized medicine.

I should have known that something was amiss when a consulting attending physician disrupted our unit attending rounds to speak with the attending on-call about this family, and their dissatisfaction with hospital medical staff. They had been presented with alternatingly rosy and gloomy outlooks on their child's prognosis. They had heard second-hand whisperings about physicians who reported not wanting to be involved in the case. They were put off by the brusque manners of specific doctors. The situation concerned me, but got lost in the hectic pace of the day.

(Aside: I might note that the day already had a white-rabbit-I'm-late quality to it. Morning rounds (with the fellows and the residents) hadn't finished until 1130, and the attending rounds had been delayed because of several mini-parent conferences regarding several very sick patients, and one not-sick-at-all child of a very pushy VIP. We didn't start attending rounds (with the attending, fellow, and charge nurse) until 1300.)

When we finally finished attending rounds, Half & Half came up to me and pulled me aside and described the situation ... the family was really upset, and wanted to meet with Nine Yards (the critical care and anesthesiology director). I groaned. I think I might have mentioned in several places how much I hate psych-social issues in nursing. But I knew that this had to be addressed today.

So, I gathered my thoughts and resolve, platered a gentle smile on my face, and knocked on the room and entered. I was unprepared. Instead of the angry and remonstrating parents I expected to meet, I met some lovely people. The parents were warm, clearly well-educated, and extremely reasonable. And as I listened to them, I could see that they needed me to be there.

Yes, they had been receiving very contradictory stories. Generally, the PICU physicians are really good at telling it like it is. Of course, some are more gentle and tactful than others. But they tend to give their expert opinion, based on the most current findings, and offer as many options are a possible. And, just as generally, many other services offer extremely rosy outlooks ... the oncology service comes to mind as one that is generally not realistic enough to benefit parents. The best solution for this mismatch of outlooks is best solved by a genuine parent conference, where the family is able to sit down with all the services involved in the child's care, hear all the opinions of the specialists, and have a chance to get their questions answered in a cohesive and understandable way.

The parents were further confused by the parade of physicians involved in their child's care. Not only are there mutliple services involved, but the attendings roate weeks on call. Then there are also the fellows in each service, and all the residents just in the PICU. The solution for this was to have one person overseeing the patient's care on an on-going basis ... someone the parents could meet with during office hours, who was available on a consistent basis, and not just on a by-the-week basis. The ideal solution would be to have a case manager keeping track of the patient's progress, to coordinate and be a support to the family.

The parents' unhappiness was compounded by the fact that there was a serious trend of miscommunication. When the physicians talked about the child's prognosis, all the parents could hear was that their child's life was intolerable and not worth living. I can emphatically state that this was never implied. Aside from cases of documented brain death or a DNR (do not resusitate) order, we do everything we can to restore and/or improve the health of our patients. Added to this was the fact that the parents had shut down when the physicians broached the subject of a tracheostomy. Apparently they had met a child who had the same syndrome, and who had a trach, and it became their worst fear. Clearly the parents needed someone to support them and facilitate communication with the healthcare team. Sadly, our unit social worker was on vacation, but I got the covering social worker to step in and start working with the parents.

And lastly, the parents wanted to speak with Nine Yards, which I agreed to arrange.

So, what did I do (besides try to keep my nervousness under wraps)? I practiced my reflective listening skills. Heard them out. Tried to reflect/rephrase their statements. Clarified when I could. Offered the above four ideas as a starting place. They were very appreciative, and I felt that I had helped de-fuse a potentially combustible situation.

When I left, I found an empty room and paged my on-call manager. And she listened to me. She took the responsibility to get a case manager involved. She informed me that Nine Yards was still on vacation. And advised me to broach the on-duty attending about what had transpired so that he was aware of the situation. She was a calm port amid the shrieking voices in my head.

Re-entered the unit and was immediately swept back into the business of being The Fearless Leader. Couldn't seem to get the on-duty attending alone for a minute ... demands on both his and my time. However, I finally got a quiet moment with him, and updated him on my conversation with the parents. Afterwhich I had to listen to him and help de-fuse some of his enfensive mechanisms. Afterwhich he calmed down, and was able to talk with the family to arrange for a conference. Afterwhich I approached the parents to follow up. We reviewed the goals of having the parent conference, getting a case manager, and involving the social worker. I told them that Nine Yards was on vacation, but that we would let them know when he returned and arrange a meeting.

My personal opinion? I think these parents will love their child with all their might. I think the child will be very well cared for. My hope is that they always put the best interests of the child ahead of their need to be parents.

With all this, you would think that I would be chomping at the bit to get home. If I wasn't gimping, I would have hightailed it to Pasadena for salsa dancing at Paseo Colorado, then blues dancing at One Colorado Courtyard. However, it wasn't even a possibiility ... and the night shift was short-staffed until 2300. So, I gave myself the smallest patient possible, gave report to the oncoming charge nurse, and stayed four more hours for the overtime pay, and to wind down from a rollercoaster of a day.

Gimping around town

Went out to do a few errands. And yes, still gimping around on crutches.

Over to Third Street in Santa Monica to go to REI. New water bottle, and more shirts. See, when I go dancing, I tend to get sweaty. I'm totally jealous of non-sweaty dancers ... although other sweaty dancers console me with the fact (hmmm, really?) that non-sweaty dancers have no other way to dissipate heat, and are far more likely to collapse of heat strain. I'm not so convinced, but it's one of those glass-half-full story options. Anyway, I get sweaty when I dance, which is why I'm most liable to be found near the fans at the front of Lindy Groove, or the side of Paladino's, or where ever the breeze or A/C is strongest. And, I tend to bring at least one back-up shirt whenever I go dancing.

Even more importantly, I'm always on the prowl for active wear (with quick-dry features) that doesn't actually look too much like active wear. Best results tend to come from yoga or dance wear, which don't generally have too much logo junk scattered all over, or outrageously bold stripes of color in all the wrong places, or ugly necklines.

So, when I trialed out my newest find on Monday, I found that it fit the long-enough-in-the-body test, and the quick-dry (ie: doesn't reveal sweatiness) test, and the comfort test, and had sleeves. Thus it was that I headed back to REI where I bought three more of the same shirt (in three different colors), and was relieved that they were still on sale. I believe in going with what works. Huzzah!

Dropped in at the rental management agency and dropped off the rent check that WW hadn't ever gotten around to before she left on vacation. Found TankGirl there, looking for a new apartment, since hers is now basically a mold perti dish ...due to her awful landlord. Got to talking a bit, and now I have a few more names to add to my list of cool women in LA that I'd like to get to know. Huzzah again!

Made a quick stop over at Best Buy. Got Miss Potter (for Sunday night, just in case Jbeany can't loan me hers), and the soundtrack to Once, which I fell in love with months before I ever saw the movie.

Home for a little rest, then over to my PMD for a look-see at the ankle. I really like my Doc. He's about my age (not too young and inexperienced, but not too old ann entrenched), second generation asian, and really listens to me. Plus, he knows that I know what I'm talking about, and lets me get whatever studies I think are necessary, and is good about suggesting things and explaining why. Since my urgent care appointment was so late in the afternoon, I was worried that I wouldn't have time to get the xrays done. When I left his office, I gimped over to the radiology office as fast as was Dorably possible. The front office was shuttered down, and it was with a little panic that I headed to to back, where I saw only a janitor pushing two large trashcans. I was about to get really frustrated, when he pointed to the clerk exiting a door just behind me. Turns out that I was just in time to get the last films (hmmm, does anyone still use actual xray films now that digital xrays are so prevalent?) of the day.

Took my time crutching back to my car, and got myself home. Not long after, Doc called me with the results of the wet (meaning: read and report on ASAP) read: no fractures! Hurray! Of course it's sore, and stiff and still a bit swollen, but I'm going to do everthing possible to get it back in danceable shape as soon as possible!

And, just to finish off the day on a great note, here's a great clip of Jim Minty and Lacey Schwimmer in a Jack & Jill competition. I'm a Jim fan. I like the way he teaches, and the fact that he lets (or is it that he wants it done?) his students post bits of his lessons on youtube. Because really, dancing is all about spreading the love.

Get Gimpy

Up fairly early this morning, after having spent the wee hours of last night drowning my sorrow in watching every new tivo'd thing ... SYTYCD, Law and Order, Sex and the City (the tamed down version that Perky keeps saying should be renamed Heavy Petting in the City), and My Boys.

... and remembered that I had yet to put up a post over at the Exponent II blog. So, looking at my white board, I decided to put on hold the half-dozen ideas I've been contemplating, and post on how on-line LDS interactions translate into real-world interactions. You can see my ruminations here. Interestingly enough, the photo is actually of LDS women. Initially, I was hoping to get an interesting contemporary picture of multi-racial women. But when I typed "women" into google images, the picture showed up on the second page, as part of the Women's History Initiative, affiliated with the Joseph Fielding Smith Institute. Interesting also to note that 2004 saw the first Mormon Women's history class at BYU, co-taught by Jill Mulvay Derr, who I've heard speak at Miller-Eccles, and liked exceedingly.

So, got my post blogged, then headed over to work for the preceptee graduation. I thought about skipping it, but I wanted to be there to support E, and felt that since I'd already told her I would be there, I should be there. Ended up taking my crutches (that I got when I broke my ankle at my first snow-boarding attempt) along just in case. I ended up not having time to get flowers for E, but I've got a good idea for another gift that will do much better at a slightly later time. Was very glad to have brought the crutches along, as the swelling, soreness and stiffness in the demmed ankle was getting worse.

The graduation was nice. The class this time was small, just twenty preceptees for the whole hospital. In the fall, there will be seventy with six in the PICU! They showed the video set to With Arms Wide Open (good grief, could Scott Stapp be any sexier?). It's the second time I've seen it, and it still gets me a little misty. They show video clips of many patients ... critically ill, hooked up to life-support, in surgery, recovering, at clinic visits, playing in the gardens, interacting with staff doctors and nurses, etc etc.

The Chief Nursing Officer, and CEO spoke a few words.

The pain management nurse (who works hospital wide with a team) was the keynote speaker, and had a great presentation about how the preceptor program has changed and developed in the past decade. Of note, our program is so successful that it's being marketed and used across the nation.

The on-site childcare program kids came and sang for us. Image the "You Are My Sunshine" song. Except the lyrics go like this:

You are my angel, my only angel
You made me better when I get sick
YOu'll never know, nurse, how much I love you
Please don't ever change your career.

Totally brought the house down.

And then, the graduates were presented with certificates, etc. The PICU team got the most enthusiastic responses!

Afterwards, spoke with E for a few minutes, and congratulated her. Then hobbled back to my car. Called my PMD, and got an appointment for tomorrow afternoon, after which I expect to get some xrays done. Gimpy has had it ... and it's not even been 24 hours!

An unfortunate incident

Second day on, in one of the big rooms, with a fairly busy pair. And, I was in the room with E, who came off orientation early because we were so short-staffed. I could tell that she was a little nervous, but I reassured her that she would do fine, that she had all the skills do carry her through the day, and provide excellent care to her patients. I'm so proud that she'd been doing so well.

Day went well. Even managed to put in a substantial amount of time into getting the first version of the schedule finalized and printed. E did well,and volunteered to stay over until 2300, since nights was going to be a bit short. At some point I asked her if she was working the next day, and she said that she had the preceptor graduation. A good reminder, although I'd had it penned into my Franklin. Anyway, I told her that I would be there.

Finished work, and changed to go out dancing. Had originally taken a change of clothes to go to the Wed night summer series over in Santa Monica. However, after I read through my juno email accounts (I know, they're old, and not as user friendly as gmail, but I still keep those accounts for certain list-serves), I decided to go to Doug Silton's novice/intermediate west coast swing class, at a location not too far from my place. I've just really taken a liking to WCS, and would like to sharpen up my stylings for when I go to SLC in October.

The class was small, only two leads and two follows, which meant for a lot of personal attention, if not a good variety of leads. We worked on basic WCS styling, and a wide variety of pass-bys ... I liked the double turn ones the best, both in front and behind the leaders. Afterwards, we also worked on a move that they Int/Adv lindy class (which met just prior to the WCS lesson) had done the week previous ... which had a side by side forward movement, cross-handed turn, body stop, and an interesting lat-push by the leads that moved into side by side turns and a shoot-her-out-the-back second half of a whip. Take 5 minutes to describe, and 20 seconds to do. Really good class. Unforturnately, it looks like Doug won't be continuing the class, due to low attendnace.

Didn't change my shoes, but picked up my stuff, and was about to leave. Then, I felt bad about not saying goodbye to one of the leads (who I don't really like, but don't really dislike), so I turned around nad bade farewell just as I was walking through the door. Bad move. I should have listened to my first instinct and kept walking. Because, by turning my attention to the guy, I missed the low step down out of the door. My right foot turned under me as I collapsed, and I followed onto the ground. Ugh ... horrible horrible horrible. After laughing off the event, I slowly walked to my car, becoming surer and surer with each step that I'd badly sprained my ankle.

Got home, and RICE'd my ridiculous injury. Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation. To which I added my customary dose of advil, for a little non-steroidal anti-inflammnatory action. This does not bode well for the rest of the summer.