Property of Matter

Nik will probably get mad at me when she reads this later. It's a gorgeous day outside. The last day of a long weekend. I should be calling up my friends. And probably will in a few. But right now, I just want to sit before my desk.

I've got [very little sleep but can't seem to sleep in] + [a captivating book (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks)] + [new headphones that make me want to re-listen to every song in my pathetic collection] + [sun shining on the couch] + [freshly baked focaccia]. Why would anyone ever want to move?

Plus, my appetites for eating and cooking have returned (the former never quite left). My spinach dip disappointed last night, but swapping goods with frmAmy (not to be confused with me) did not. Now, I want to make a nice roast chicken sandwich and eat a Chinese banquet. But will probably settle for burnt burgers for the day.

Red Bean Soup

Yesterday, I got tricked into going home with the promise of a free, albeit shady, haircut. The haircut turned out to be absolutely fine and at a nice salon, but then I was guilted into staying the night. Only after I agreed did I realize that my parents actually had an event at the church until 9:30PM. So really, I was tricked into spending the night home alone and watching a re-airing of the LOST finale (the ending is just as annoying the second time around). This was all after I'd spent 3 hours in the church office waiting for Mother, only to have her come by and say, "Why don't you just drive home [and I'll ride back later with your father] since we came in 2 separate cars?" "Because 3 hours ago, you asked me to wait for you to drive home now." "Oh. I've decided to stay until 9pm." "Wait, this thing goes past dinner?" (She gave no indication we were even coming to the church from the salon until an hour into the haircut. She's that good.)

Staying at home meant that I had to catch an early train this morning to get in town for Meli's baptism. I would've had just enough time to go home, change into fancier clothes and shoes, wipe the train grime off my face, and hop right back on the bus had there not been a half marathon that derailed all my plans. Instead, I did what I do best:

Moi: Just a heads up that since I don't have time to go home, I'll be in jeans and carrying a giant backpack when I come to church.

Ashley: I wouldn't expect any less.

(I'd shown up to her graduation with a giant backpack-- full of my shoes and work stuff-- to everyone's confusion: "What's in there... homework?")

Moi: And since I have 40 minutes to kill, I'm wandering the streets of Chinatown.

Ashley: Isn't that what you always do?

Indeed. Indeed. I was there so early that quite a few street sleepers were still in slumber.

Dream Jobs

1. Editor of This American Life

2. Interpreter for major league baseball player

3. Quality control for Cheetos. According to Wired: "... every hour hours, a four-person panel convenes to inspect and taste the snacks, comparing them to perfect reference Cheetos sent from Frito-Lay headquarters." I don't care about ice cream or chocolate, I want to taste a perfect Cheeto.

Wouldn't It Be Nice

The internship may not have lunch conferences (remember those pre-recession days of bento boxes, Finale, and warm Viga sandwiches for lunch? I hope you're happy Wall Street), but it gets a little better every day. This morning, there was birthday breakfast. There were fresh fruit and bagels and yogurt and granola bars and pastries. And I found people discussing Lost and crashed their conversation. And met an intern that is not my nemesis. The awkward-to-normal ratio here is completely different from both school and work. I'm not sure if I can ever go back.

(discussing the internship)

Moi: They're all really nice.

Whitecastle (scoffs): Of course they are. They want to save the world.

Species on Species Abuse

A. Sister Claire is awesome.

 

B. There's also someone awesome at my internship.  Or deranged.  It's not clear.  On the paper towel dispensers in the bathroom are hand written signs, written on paper towel, with pictures of trees, that reminds people (written from the POV of a paper towel) that towels come from trees so we should not be wasteful.  When I first saw the signs yesterday, I thought it was ridiculous that they would be written on paper towels.  Until I looked closer this morning and realized that someone else also felt that way, and had written below one of the signs, "Thank you for sacrificing your life to save your brethren!" 

 

C. Eating through a packet of Pocky sticks right now and enjoying myself for it.

Newman

Today was the first day of my internship, and already, I don't want to have another internship ever again. And already, I've made a nemesis. I arrived at work today in a colorful skirt and tee shirt, looking bright, summery, and semi-casual, only to find my Nemesis already in the reception area. At least 4 other interns started today. Nemesis was in a full suit. And had a leather briefcase to my giant backpack (I crashed at Liz's last night). A coffee to my soy milk. Sensible shoes to my dressy sandals. "I have no idea what I'm doing," I confided, after telling her what department I'll be working with. "Well, I'm a law student," she replied in turn, as if that cleared up anything about her job description, before telling me her department. And that, my friends, is how nemeses are born.

Catching Up

I suck at capturing the magical moments of my life. School friends, North Conway, Liz's wedding, Amy's party, LOST BBQ, and this is all I've got:

Mike's Pastries. Every time I think they're overrated, I taste something that I like.

So did Louise.

Besties.

Picture is awful, but note the strangely short furniture of the cabin we stayed in. This is McDarty and Nik at their most "comfortable." Not pictured: The bear on the wall. I kid you not, actual bear on wall. Best cabin ever.

Making Assumptions

Those hockey games at the Bo' really did contribute to our education (and by "those," I really meant the two that I attended in my four years)...

Amy: Horses and mules make donkeys, and donkeys-

Moi: No, no, you've got it mixed up.

Amy: Oh right, that's because-

(fists instinctively clenched and raised)

Amy et Moi: (chanting halfheartedly, but in unison) Mules are sterile.  Colby sucks.

Laura: Wow.  Fist pumps, really? 

Talk to Your Father Today

Discussing allergy meds with father on the phone took an unexpected turn on Monday...

Moi: Do you take Zyrtec or Benadryl?

Father: Neither, it starts with a 'V'.

Moi: Claritin?

Father: No. V-something.

Moi: There're no allergy meds that start with a 'v' and you're not on Viagra.

Father: That's the word! It's not Viagra but it's something similar. It's always on TV.

(did I mention that I'm standing in CVS when I'm having this conversation?)

Moi: (mental image of 2 old people in bath tubs overlooking a cliff) It's NOT Zyrtec or Benadryl? Not Claritin? Not Viagra. Please don't say Cialis... Allegra?

Father: That's it. Allegra.

Moi: Oh, thank God.

The Say Ah Kid, Update

How many Harvard clinicians does it take to diagnose a mosquito bite allergy? A conclusion that I had already reached before I saw any of them? For the average American, probably 0. But if you work in the medical area, 4.

After I'd seen Doc Query and the school nurse. I stuck around work for a couple of hours until it was no longer possible to elevate and cold compress my leg in a manner befitting the work place (it was hard enough finding a modest skirt today-- skirts were not designed for people to lift their calves for physician supervisors to inspect). When I announced that I was heading home, Whitecastle became uncharacteristically concerned and volunteered his clinical services. Once again, the sheer size and gnarliness of the bite impressed him, as it had everyone I've seen. He suggested that I ignore the nurse and get my hands on some drugs. It's always encouraging when doctors do that. Finally, for kicks, I consulted Nurse Ashley to round out the conflicting advice. (and waiting for the bus got boring) She mostly sided with Whitecastle, except for those times she paused to laugh at me. Final degrees count: 4 clinicians-- 2 MDs, 2 NPs, 2 MPHs, 1 JD, and 1PhD.

The Say Ah Kid

Remember that mosquito bite from yesterday?  It has grown.  After a long deliberation with Jen regarding our docs of choice, because working for a group of docs is both a wonderful clinical resource and awfully awkward when you want to take advantage of that resource, I stepped into Doc Query's office for a quick consult.  ("You look nice today... can I ask you for your medical opinion?)  Yesterday, Doc Firewall sent Jessica to the ER for her toe.  Luckily, I fared better.  After commenting on the "nice red border" of my grotesque bite and providing no assurances on the state of my leg, only that he's not going to prescribe me any meds ("am I going to lose my leg?"  "I hope not."  "Is this freakish?"  "Well..."), Query gave me the OK that this wouldn't be a ridiculous reason to see a doctor.  His words were, "As much as it pains me to tell you not to work on my project today, I think you should go see an urgent care provider right now."  So off I went to student health services...

Moi: I don't have an appointment, but I have an allergic reaction.

Nurse Aide/Secretary I: (looking unimpressed) You think you're having allergic reactions? 

Nurse Aide/Secretary II: (skeptical) What kind of reaction?

Moi: This.  (stick out my leg)

Nurse Aide/Secretary I: (alarm and repulsion)  Come sit here.  Let me see that.  You can see a nurse practitioner in 30 minutes. 

Nurse Aide/Secretary II: (more alarm and repulsion)  I think this is the third case we've had this week.

Moi: Glad I can contribute to the trend.

Nurse Aide/Secretary I: No, no, that's not a good thing.

So I Says

For reasons that are unclear, I was designed with a particular skin tone with even more particular attributes-- dry, dermatographic, and allergic to mosquitoes. Spending the weekend in the White Mountains, I was lucky to avoid mosquito bites for most of our stay (and also avoid arduous hikes by generally being a kill joy) until literally, the last 5 minutes in the area. The waters and woods had nothing on me. But I was bitten on the car ride home. And now, the little sting has blossomed into a giant circle three and a half inches in diameter pulsating through my calf. It's made for a miserable Monday. A Monday when I had wheat thins and coffee for breakfast. A Monday that felt not quite like death-- it felt so sluggish and fatigued that it seemed incapable of taking someone's life-- more like death's second cousin. Mabel.

The One with the Adorable Doctor from India

Talking about our challenges of the year-

Shawn (boy): No matter how many episodes of Friends and Sex and the City you watch, it just doesn't prepare you for life in the United States.

I dare you to have a more precious quote of the day.  Bring it on.

Acknowledged in the latest NEJM, which is almost like being published in NEJM... maybe this will motivate me to finish my papers.

The night before my last two finals are due is a perfect time to be craving sugarcane juice. Can anyone spare a cane?

Filial Priority

(after I'd explained that I wasn't going home tomorrow but instead preparing for finals)

Mother: If you fail a class, you can always retake it. But you only have one mother.

Physician,

Writing my paper just now (procrastinating just now, writing moments earlier), I thought of how I need to use PubMed to find articles that I could cite to define proper adherence. Then I said, "Doesn't that sound like a paper I wrote*?" And found that I could cite myself instead. Why, I could get used to this feeling.



*Or, I was 4th author out of 7 and mainly tried to make figures to Whitecastle's liking.

Parental Discretion

The craziest stories I have heard have come from my parents. Not all of them have been true. And many were missing important details. Which was probably why they sounded crazy. They're not very good at story telling. Or checking in. They'd been out of the country for a month and didn't call until tonight, when they arrived in Chicago (to be fair, my dad did email- once).

That was when I heard this story.

Father: ... there was an incident toward the end of the trip. We got stomach flu and couldn't go on the exploration.

Moi: Explore what?

Father: The Shanghai explore. The biggest thing in-

Moi: The Expo?

Father: Yes. Ex-po. We got sick. It was probably from this Tibetan tea that cost 100,000 RMB.

Moi: How were you drinking such expensive tea? (~$15K USD)?

Father: It wasn't really 100,000 RMB. Well, The bag of tea was, but we only had a little. We toured this tea place and the owner gave us each two pieces [of this caterpillar fungus tea]. The roots were 50 RMB apiece ($7.30). It's not like we could say no. So we had some. No, wait, it was 360,000 RMB. That's $53,000 USD.

Moi: And that made you sick?

Father: It's a little complicated. I'll tell you more when I get home.

Based on the hesitation in his voice, I'm guessing some 'shrooms were involved, too.

Building My Church

When I was wee, I was very wee. My red Snoopy backpack often looked like it could eat me. That I was capable of carrying so much weight always marveled Mother. One day, she lifted my bag off of my back and exclaimed, "what did you put in here, rocks?" And discovered that indeed, I had.

I had been for weeks. I brought rocks to school for a science unit one day in 1st or 2nd grade and never took them out. Because Wee Me liked rocks. And enjoyed having them with me. I never said that Wee Me was smart (but I was, I really was). Picking up my backpack this morning (nickname: Yasu, after my bag twin*), it felt like I'd been hoarding rocks. I even checked. But all I found inside were grad student things like real notebooks and notebook computers. In 10 days, this, too, will be off of my back (for the summer).

Keep'em coming, School. I've been training for this since 2nd grade.



*For months, I thought that Yasu, an (unintentionally) hilarious PowerPoint whiz kid in my cohort, had the same backpack as I do. This fact made me feel much better about ditching my way-cooler green Puma pack. It now appears that I may have mixed up my Japanese classmates and my twin is someone less exciting. Jury is still out though, I have a hard time telling these people apart.

Weekend Menu

Finals are just around the corner, so of course I roasted a chicken, made a simple bread salad, whipped up some creamed spinach, and also made a bread pudding this weekend. I tossed some corn into the spinach and tasting the result, it reminded me of the creamed corn soup served in Taiwanese steak houses- a very pleasant callback. I've often mentioned this, but the 3 foods I missed most when I first moved from Taiwan were potato chips, hot dogs/sausages, and steak dinners. So finding that little whiff in my spinach? Highlight of the weekend.

Close behind that was the sauce I made for my bread pudding. The recipe that I loosely followed (perhaps 'consulted' is a closer word) called for whiskey. I didn't have whiskey. I had Bailey's. And it turned out wonderfully buttery and fragrant. Like butterscotch for grown ups.