Board at Work

Name that show: That imagination of yours is an absolute curse.

Sometimes I wonder how much good I would be able to do for the world if I harnessed my creative energies toward work, or even poetry. For today's RA white board, Young Bo' decided on the theme (name that movie) and film and I set about creating the three clues:

1. It was released before any of the RAs were born (Jen squeaked under by just a month)
2. It features the holder of the NBA's most points scored title
3. Don't call me Shirley.

The third one gives it away, I know, but we were all wicked impressed when DocNice walked by, admitted that he was bored, took one look at our board, and said, "Huh. Kareem Abdul Jabbar was in Airplane!? I didn't know that." The ease with which he got all aspects of our riddle got me thinking. And no longer was I satisfied with having a board to amuse me at work. I wanted to go farther.

And that was how Young Bo' and I found ourselves systematically going through a list of everyone in the division. We placed bets on who would and would not be able to name the movie. It's a game of both luck (not everyone stops by the board, not everyone ventures guesses, not everyone is in the office), and strategy (who in the office fits this special blend of generation timing, nerdiness, and pop culture knowledge?). The loser has to make a pair of paper-cup-floss-telephones for the winner. And work just got slightly more exciting. Slightly more bearable.

KendleLand

Perhaps the title is a stretch.

I'm not one to pick favorites, but if you held a gun to my head, or even a plate of salt and pepper ribs in front of me, and made me choose a favorite kid at my dad's church, I would have to say that the current honors go to the Lam brothers. Jeffrey is in first grade and Kendle is about three and a half. Except when they are both hyper and goofy together, the two are near opposites in character. Jeffrey is quiet and detail oriented; he likes patterns, numbers, and often brings home test scores over 100. I used to love playing with him just because he was so shy. For better or worse, he's not shy around church anymore. Kendle was never quiet. Being short, he looks younger than you might expect and as a result, gets away with that much more. He's a natural charmer, a favorite among the youth group girls, and knows how to employ it to his advantage. Not so academically inclined as his brother (and perhaps not at all), Kendle is instead a natural story teller. He told me this morning about the sled he got for Christmas that flew into the air and how he had to cut a hole in the sky to get back down and how he also got an edible lamp as bright as the sun and a super monkey that speaks English (but not Chinese). Not only Kendle a story teller, he also has a very smart mouth for a three and a half year old and a mind that has become very difficult to trick.

Earlier this week, his grandmother told him she was going back to China...

Kendle: Good. Now I can eat all the candies I want and no one will stop me.

Grandmother: No, you can't. The police will come get you.

Kendle: No. They won't know when I'm eating candies secretly.

Status Update Update

Oh, Charlie. I don't doubt that we would have a close match in Boggle. BriWi on the other hand, he stands no chance.

Cowabunga

Ignore most of this video and scroll straight to 2:01-- 2:44. This clip is a few months old, but it's new and thrilling to me. This girl made my day. From this day forth, I am celebrating every victory with a "I get a cow" song and strut.

Boxing Day Bumbles

My mother has disappeared from the house. A couple of hours earlier, she came in to ask me to bring a kid to the mall. I told her I'd think about it. Hopped in the shower. Came out, and was told that her car is gone. Kid still in the house. Don't know what just happened. Six people in the house, nobody has any news. In broad daylight, too. Perhaps some kangaroo boxers will straighten it out for us.

Status Update

My throat hurts and seems intent on hurting for awhile. Can't seem to stop watching cruel and ridiculous Japanese reality shows on Hulu, though they never seem to show a concluding episode. Played Boggle, UNO, Mousie Mouse, Connect 5, and Set today, and could not help but want to win every single one (I did quite well, thank you). Mother stood up to sing 'happy birthday' to me in a restaurant and we just had a conversation about Evita. Merry Christmas.

Tomorrow, I cook, I work, I exercise, I act like a normal person.

Jolly Old Time

Mother and I arrived half an hour early for the Christmas eve service last night-- unfortunate, because we were due to arrive a whole hour early. You'd think we would get Christmas down by now, but no. Mother was still wrapping presents up until we had to leave. When we arrived at the church, we found the power out on the first two floors of the building (the church is on the third). The poor usher spent his evening shining a flashlight up the stairs. (Had we been on time, we would have found ourselves locked out because of the outage. Turns out building management is hard to track down on Christmas eve) This new sanctuary where my dad's church is temporarily holding service has terrible acoustics, so even as we were climbing the stairs up, we could hear the roar of the congregation, the chatter, the frantic setting up, the screaming children. You'd think Christmas eve services would get old, that the setting up would run smoothly, but no. It's the same play, same songs, same service each year, yet always slightly different. The wisecracking wise men, the awkward transitions and stumbles, hilarious kids as sheep, the mumbling unenthusiastic youths, and the grand candle lighting finale at the end when everyone lights a candle and sings to Silent Night-- no, it doesn't get old. My Jesus doesn't get old. So if it takes all this bustle, chaos, and ritual to make us remember, then that's our shame, but I'm glad when we do remember. Jesus, Man, God, coming down then, coming again, that doesn't get old. That's a part of my every day.

Spirit of the Swap

$5 limit.  An invitation with a Bible verse guilting people into sharing.  "Creativity encouraged."  And the hottest gift last year were greeting cards from the Holocaust Museum.  Sounds like a goofy sacrilegious gift swap (my favorite kind), no?  No.  Which made my presents look awesome at the Christmas party with my new small group.  Turned out, everyone not only went over the $5 limit, but wrapped their totally legit presents beautifully.  And then there was me.  With my adorable "I believe" set with a wind-up Santa toy, the cheesiest Obama pin I could locate, and sparklers.  Who doesn't love sparklers (and Obama and Santa)?  Perhaps the Republican who received it. Who even knew there were Republicans in Massachusetts?  From Michigan/California at that! 

Not only did I get shown up on the swapping front, but Erik the Blonde whupped everyone on the treats to eat front.  I brought homemade bean dip and eggnog.  Respectable, yes.  But Erik brought good wine (because he says he knows the difference, the rest of us just nod along), smoked turkey, sliced red peppers, sun dried tomato cheese spread, sliced apples, and Triscuits (I'm forgetting an item here).  AND homemade sugar cookies, frosting, and 4 different kinds of sprinkles.  How am I supposed to earn kingdom points and win with him as my competition?  (At least there were no butterfly finger sandwiches a la Longmuir.  I'll be ready next time, Blonde)  And how are we supposed to enjoy Christmas without atrocious holiday sweaters, inappropriate chocolates, or ironic (but not that ironic) Obama pins?  I tried, folk(s), but I'm afraid the Christmas spirit is just being lost on my new small group. 

Medicaid. Medicant.

Looking for cold medicine last night, Mother first tried to get my to take Nyquil. ("I can't, I need to wake up before 6" "It's OK, I'll wake you") Then take some pills from China that "really works." I know deep in my heart that she is not trying to kill me. But knowing won't mean much when my heart stops beating.

Christmas Hit List

Hello (non-Jewish) Jason. I've been waiting for you.

(That worked on two levels for me, but probably just one for everyone else. Or less.)

Today on the RA white board, we put down our Christmas wish list (presented here in its entirety):

• Good will toward me
• Barbie and the Diamond Castle Princess Liana Doll (Doc Fischer of Men: "If you want Barbie DVDs, I have more than I would care for." "What's on Barbie DVDs?" "Trust me, you don't want to know")
  
• The candy dispenser always has Sour Patch Kids, never Mike & Ikes
• Cure for rabies
• Not get lost during a journal club
• Not be scared of Doc Whitecastle

Quite mysteriously, the RAs came back from our lunch break and discovered the board changed. We were no longer scared of Whitecastle but wished to "Not be scared of the dark." Interestingly enough, too, it was all in Whitecastle's handwriting- how all this was changed by itself... sounds like a Christmas miracle to me.

Also miraculous: the amount of sweets I had today. Dark chocolate. Fudge. Peanut butter fudge. Sour worm gummies. Donut. Cheesecake. Underservedly-fancy-gum-drop. Blueberry mini muffin. Chinese egg custard. But it's OK, folks. I had a banana for breakfast.

Chef's Notes

Salting an eggplant (known as degorging) draws out the vegetable's moisture and can remove much of its bitterness as well as lend a smoother texture.  Salting an eggplant can also make it very salty.  Thus rinsing carefully after salting is crucial to the whole process.  Just putting that out there.  Sometimes they don't emphasize the rinsing enough. 

Also, anyone else think the letter K should go before the J?  I am having trouble alphabetizing today.

Strange Kindness

Blogger deleted one of my entries. It was probably the best one of the year, too. I wrote it in iambic pentameter and the ending would have brought tears to anyone's eyes. But mostly it was about the awesome Christmas present Young Bo' and I made for Nice Doc and Whitecastle- their own two-cups-and-floss telephone set decorated with Calvin, Hobbes, and snowflakes (or as Whitecastle called them, "the tiger and the boy"). Too bad Blogger hates you.

Depending on the time of day, there are many things that I hate. Chief among them: waiting for the bus and running after the bus, both of which I end up doing at least once a week. Last night, with the snow and ice on the ground and the bus still half a block away, I started slowly running, but it was more of a token gesture to tell myself I tried, I didn't actually think I had a chance of making it. But this man standing between myself and the bus saw me, "Are you after the bus?" he asked. Out of breath and flustered, I don't remember responding, just grunting and shooting out my hand, as if flagging down a cab. "Hold up!" he yelled back to the bus driver, "someone's coming." When I ran past the man with a hoarse, "thank you," he just said "don't worry, it'll wait for you, don't worry." And in moments like that (and mercifully, there were actually a lot of moments like that this weekend), there is no animus toward the MBTA, just a swelling of appreciation for a stranger. Best stranger of the year.

... of a white Christmas

From today's Times Magazine, on Mexico's groundbreaking anti-poverty program:

...the [Oportunidades] payments, helpful as they are, are still heartbreakingly small. Emma Pasarán in the town of Venustiano Carranza in Puebla, told me that one of the benefits of the program is that “I am never without money. If my daughter says, ‘Mom, I need a pencil,’ I can say to her, ‘Here’s the money.’ ” She mimes taking a coin out of her purse, a proud smile on her face. In the same town, I talked to Elia Valderrama Vargas, a mother of three, in her dirt-floor house, about the jobs that will be open to her soon-to-be-educated children. “My husband cuts weeds with a machete,” she told me. “My children will be able to work in a tortilla factory because they’ll know how to cobrar” — how to add purchases and give change. For Pasarán, buying a pencil on a whim was the fulfillment of a dream; for Valderrama, it was seeing her children in indoor work.

Happy Hump Day

Eating surprisingly good chili cheese fries in the food court before the office party tonight. Hands down the highlight of the week. Sitting there with Young Bo', digging in to the hot gooey mess, talking about how much we both sucked at physics in retrospect, and doing all of this with the uncertainty of the party ahead of us- it was a gift of a moment.

The actual party was pretty nice, though once again, everyone was disappointingly well behaved. I may have said some stupid things. But all the docs kids were adorable. Everyone was under three in age and height. Doctor Greene's girl loved my dress. Doc Query's son knew his animals (and they weren't just your barn yard variety), but not to be outdone, Doc Nice's girl? Knew where her elbows and wrists are. None of them compared, of course, to how happy little Julian was. He just kept laughing about everything. And whenever we asked about what he was doing, he would explain that he was just pretending. I hope everyone gets to a chance to be as happy as he was tonight.

Runner up awesome moment: When one of the spouses pulled out a little flute and started performing. The look on everyone's faces? Priceless.

Opened the Window

Yesterday, we put up on the RA white board a map of the office and red circles around who was sick as a sort of Division travel advisory, so people would know who to avoid. This did not sit well with Whitecastle, who found himself on the red list.

Whitecastle: This is offensive.

Moi: It's a public health measure.

Whitecastle: I'm not coughing on anyone. This isn't how the flu spreads. It's about droplet transmission. I should make you read about flu transmission.

Moi: It's for the good of the group.

Whitecastle: [Young Bo'], you're here, too. You should be upset.

Moi: Whose handwriting do you think that is?

With that, Whitecastle took the marker and proclaimed himself free of the flu. "Allergies" he explained, though no one is buying it. Office Christmas party tomorrow. Can't wait to pull out my sitar.

Lend Thy Light

Sister Claire, questioning my (excessive) commitment to the RA white board (featuring new posts at least 3 times a week):  The time you spend on these things… are you covered by a grant to do this?

It's only the one part of my day during which I can shine, Claire. 

Speaking of shining bright and starry nights, MC TChu pulled out his fancy phone the other night to reveal a picture of a decked out Christmas tree in his living room…

Moi: Are there presents under the tree?

TChu: No.

Moi: Are you [and the housemates] even going to be here for Christmas?

TChu: No.

Moi: Yet you have a giant Christmas tree-

TChu: -because we have a twelve foot ceiling.

Incredible Edible Me

Tonight, as it often happens, I ran after the T with a big backpack jostling down my back. I had to run about a block on the rough Brookline terrain, and- because I run faster than the speed of light/trolley train- just managed to catch it in time. Only to remember that I had just gone grocery shopping. I had two packages of frozen edamames and 1 bag of frozen spinach in my backpack. And a carton of eggs. All that pounding against the pavement and banging against the frozen vegetables did a number on my joints. I couldn't imagine what happened to the eggs inside my bag. But- sit down for this one folks, grab your handkerchief and brace yourselves for an early Christmas miracle- not a single egg was harmed in the making of this story. Not even the slightest crack. Those little eggs are cool, collected, and sitting pretty in my fridge, each with smooth little cheeks. I am writing congratulatory letters to my congresschickens as we speak.

Public Hygiene

My new, supposedly orange zest scented, body wash smells like bleu cheese.

We've all had stories of not being a morning person, of putting on the wrong sock or forgetting the keys. None of these stories, I learned last night, can compare to that of Anthony's. You see, friend[s], a few weeks ago, whilst passing a store front window on the way to work, Anthony saw that there was shampoo in his hair. "By then," he said, "I had already driven to work and stopped to get coffee at Dunkin' Donuts. No one said anything." Perhaps they were afraid that they wake him from this nightmare. And somehow this man in allowed to operate vehicles at 60 mph in such a state. There ought to be laws against these things.

I feel as if I'm writing too many words so let me just pause a second for you to let this sink in.

Anthony spent a good hour going to the coffee shop and then driving to work all the whilst not realizing that he still had shampoo in his hair.

The boy takes four showers a day. You would think he would have learned by now. In the end, Anthony bought a few bottles of water from Stop & Shop and had to rinse off in the parking garage, clearing his head and landing himself on my short list of favorite anecdotes.

Reasong #6.8 Why I Love Being Out of School

Because having a B.A. is glorious.

Nah. Weekends. That's why. In my senior year, that stretch of time between Thursday evening and Monday were consumed by readings and my honors project. I didn’t even have classes on Fridays or Monday mornings, it was just filled with work study and school work, a dark, long stretch with the occasional episode of Grey’s, brunch, or a quick drink somewhere. I love how things have changed, how it’s 12:10AM on Sunday and I’ve hardly spent any time in my apartment this weekend, how I got to volunteer, doze off during a movie, take a nap, meet up with friends for dinner, then head across town for a farewell party without feeling guilty. I love being out of school so that when I bump into old friends from the Bo', I appreciate it. I love staying up late on Saturday and thinking, “oh, it’s OK, I still have Sunday tomorrow.” It’s a feeling I’ve never had before. Granted, I still have to do schoolwork tomorrow, but only a couple hours’ worth. No more GREs, apps, or school for awhile… I’m optimistic for my social life. Perhaps the mid-20s is when I bloom and finally become cool.

But in October, Jodi’s mother lost her job managing a huge dental practice in the Bronx, then landed one closer to home that requires more hours for less money. Pilates was dropped, along with takeout sushi dinners, and Jodi’s allowance, which covers lunch during the week, slipped to $60. Instead of having a tutor, Jodi has become a tutor, earning $150 a week through that and baby-sitting.

NYTimes, if you write one more story about poor rich people this holiday season, I'm going to give you something to write about. I know I choose to read the paper and its snottiness is part of the charm. But the stories of housekeepers and nannies being let go and $100 allowances slashed to $60 have got to stop.

Of Thieves and Lions

Earlier tonight, we had a Bo' round table at Grendel's (a table we worked hard and bargained for) with a bunch of random kids that some knew better than others (me being the common thread), just the way I like things. And because Young Bo' lives a life of lies, she held up her friends' dinner just to meet up with us, then ditched us after just one drink. Tim also left early, under mysterious circumstances, throwing money on the table and abruptly running out. Maybe it's something with '08ers. But we forgave them, especially Young Bo', because she's awesome. And we're afraid of her menopausal mood swings.

Colin the Cynic...

Moi: My commute to the T is even shorter if I cut through the housing project.

Colin: 'Cause you're running the whole way?

(on the CandyLand competition tomorrow)

Moi: I don't want to spend $10 to play CandyLand.

Amy: $10 is only for families. It's $5 and you get to beat little kids.

Zvi: Can we be a family?

Colin: Yeah, the Manson family.

All in all, it was $15 for one drink, a split dinner, nachos, and Ben & Jerry's ice cream. Just the type of low key evening I was looking for after so many crazy nights. Sure, everyone else split for parties and bars, but I'm secure enough in my social life to be pleased with a quiet Friday evening. But please stay friends with me. Pretty please.

Fit to Print

Yesterday, Doc Query surprised me at my desk and demanded that I go to the Times' page. I had to pretend that I wasn't already browsing and set papers down to make it look like I was working.

Doc Query: Check out the front page, right there-

Moi: Hey! That's the article. Hey! They don't mention your name.

Doc Query: Yeah. They don't mention yours either. None of them did. What's up with that?

I don't know why I don't get personal shout outs in medical journals or the lay press. But it was very nice of Doc Query to mention that as I was trying to pretend to be happy for him. One silver lining though: If you squint real close at 0:24 of this clip, you just might be able to see my name. You might need to freeze frame the thing and blow it up. And even then I'm not sure what article the guy is really holding up, but look, ma, I'm big in Japan!

Demand of the Times

From today's Times.

The case did not produce a court ruling offering guidelines for honoring donors’ intent. But it did highlight how difficult and costly it can be to challenge wealthy universities. Even without going to trial, each side had spent more than $40 million on the case.

Ah, thank you donors. Thank you, college. I could have gone to school for a very long time on $40 million.

Time are a Changing

Yesterday, Young' Bo' and I defined the word ballin' for the office on our PSA white board.  And when we had done so, we were shocked to find out from those of a certain age that they, too, had heard of ballin' but that it had a very different meaning.  (in stage whisper)  It means to have sex.  Seriously.  Ballin'.  Who knew? 

Someone in the office has the ice cream truck tune as a ring tone.  That person has not been at their desk for the past hour.  Yet someone keeps trying to reach that person.  And I am slowly going insane.

Regrets

I had planned to update you on my life. I had jotted notes down in my Moleskine. I had planned on staying in tonight, preparing my long-shot program application, maybe watching some TV, and going to bed early. Then suddenly, it’s 11pm and I’m at Lindsey Lohan’s myspace blog. I don’t know how these things happen. And 400 word essays take a lot longer to write than I remembered. My computer flipped out on me. My application unsaved. And I just bought myself another quiet night in by the computer. Goodbye, Thursday night plans.

ILOVERMONT

In my years in New England, this is what I've learned of what people do in Vermont:
look at leaves
be cold
be rustic
have barn parties
farm and raise a family
hike
talk about Ben & Jerry

I have never known a trip to Vermont to be otherwise. This weekend was no different. Went up to a town whose locales were never made clear to me with my new small group. We hiked, we had a fire, we ate bacon and eggs, and we were very cold. Of course we played games (though not many) and of course I won them. And then I was schooled by a 1980's piece of technology: the Super NES Super Mario. That game is so freaking hard. Mostly, however, we hung out and just talked. Just one group coming together.

Odds and Ends

Wanted to get out a compilation from the work week before I left for the weekend:

It's Good to be Wanted

Earlier this week, Sister Claire noticed that the dark vs. white Thanksgiving poll was still up.  It did not please her. 

Sister Claire: Now that you're a published author, you're too busy to change the board?  (Her success rate is so high that, sometimes, I feel like Sister Claire stops by just to make it into these entries, and oh, now that Thanksgiving is over, the fugitive wild turkeys in her neighborhood have returned)


It's Good to Pay Attention in Sunday School

Remember the Great Zacchaeus Debate of '06?  An update: according to Thomas the Irishman, Zacchaeus was a "very little man."  And Jesus did go over his house for tea.  Why are the Brits and Irish so strange?  And why can't they accept him as a wee one?

It's Good to Be Young

Yesterday, Young Bo' and I put up a picture of Zac Efron under a new feature of the white board, "What the Kids Are Into."  But the young heart throb was not well received as apparently no one in the Division, even those with kids, had ever heard of him.  So today, we replaced Zac with a poll on favorite Ma Query desserts (Doc Query brought in a trio this week), but Jen was not pleased with the shift.  (By the by, let me just say that I'm glad I've never met Ma Query because if I ever do, I just might be compelled to kiss her for her magical baking) 

Jen P: But I want to know what the kids are into.

Moi: You'll have to wait for part 2 of the series to come out then.

Jen P: Josh and I find this very helpful.  We feel we're out of touch.


And It Feels Good to be a Reader of the Times

(the Bo' alums, we took some time out of our stories and mockery lunch today and talked books)

Moi: I was re-reading Salinger's Franny and Zooey just a few days ago.  Reading that liberal, Northeast elitism, it just felt so-

Laura: Comfortable?

Moi: Yeah!  I loved it.

Ah, the Bo'.  I'm so glad that you fashioned dozens of kids who are just like me.

Dim the Nights Go

Weeknight dim sum. Sounds terrible, I know. No carts. No crowds. And on a weeknight, too. But it was glorious tonight, finishing a table of food, then heading over for bubble tea and some more talking. Sometimes I forget how much I like my friends.

I would savor in all this more and tell you some amusing work stories, but I've got a retreat to pack for, birthday present to buy, study to read, critique to write, and a summer program to apply to. It's a crazy Thursday night and I only have an hour left. Wish me luck!

JAM-On It

My name and credentials are on a page of a big medical journal. It's no NEJM, BMJ, or Annals. But take one more guess and you'd be right on. I have an issue on hand with tomorrow's date and my name on it, trying to act as nonchalantly as possible at work (while ringing up my parents-- thank God we don't speak English with each other) but my heart is beating fast. No one likes a gloat and other than the RAs here, everyone else is used to seeing their name in things. And since my mom hung up on me ("That's good, I have a call waiting, bye!"), I'm sharing my excitement with you. I hope I get to get used to this like the other docs, but that may never happen. For now, I'm psyched. I can't wait to go home and do a victory dance. In fact, I might just go into a quiet stairwell to dance crazy for a minute. This is going on my Big Moments of 2008 list. In fact, let's put this a place behind "Winning the Thesis Award" on the All Time Great list.

PS. Less than an hour since I've gotten my copy and it's already got a rip. Thanks, Young Bo'.

All Your Bases

I had quite the baking weekend the last few days. I didn't get around to the cracked pepper crackers I wanted to make, but I did make cranberry rolls, 2 batches of banana bread, and some cookies. All this meant that I got to bring leftover cookies into work, and cookies translate into brownie points. I called them by "Covering My Bases" cookies, because Lord knows that I need to shore up on good will when I have the opportunity. Big Chief assured me that the cookies were worth "a good four mistakes." Which means that should last me until Wednesday.

In other news, Carol's experiences this week are shedding light on the fact that they do call the birthing process "labor" for a very good reason as it is apparently quite labor intensive. Who would've thunk? Whenever, however, and whatever happens, in this season of advent, we eagerly await the arrival of Jeremy-Joy, who's sure to be the best loved baby boy in the tri-state area.