Portion Control

(removing the tag off of my new jeans)

Mother: You don't need to tell everyone what size you are.

Moi: But I so rarely get to be such a small size.  I know that they keep altering the sizes-

Mother: Exactly.  This would be an extra large in China.

Thanks, Mother.

Jack of All Trades

That Jesus was right.  It is hard serving two masters.  (Or did he say you shouldn't serve 2 masters?  Semantics.)  It's taking a lot of brain power to barely maintain 1 blog.  Adding on another one, why, I can feel my cerebrospinal fluid drying out.  Not that you have missed out on much.  I did not take a spectacular fall during a softball game and shatter my hand to pieces, or trip and fall in the middle of the street a couple of weeks later.  I did not talk to a Times columnist about dog poop.  I have just been quietly working in the suburbs, only going into town for Whitecastle's disapproval.  My big project of the day?  Cleaning up my childhood room.  And figuring out why there are several feet of white nylon rope at the foot of my window.

Sheep Go to Heaven

I am in need of the help of a good five-year old.  I have used my fingers to count multiple times this morning.  I have been so flummoxed that I just emailed Whitecastle for help in reconciling the counting discrepancies in our review. We have been working with collaborators for about a year now on this project.  Between the five of us, there are 3 MDs, 2.25 PhDs. and 2 Masters of Science.  And yet we can't figure out if our review has 10 or 12 studies.  It shouldn't be this hard, but right now, it all feels just a little overwhelming.

Silent Alarm

Katy's alarm woke Nik up at 5:30 am today.  Nik wondered if Katy had pressed snooze and needed to be woken up.  Then, because it was 5:30, she fell back asleep.  Katy's alarm also woke me up at 5:30 am today.  I wondered if Katy had somehow gotten up without my notice.  Then, because it was 5:30, I fell back asleep.  

About an hour later, my alarm rang.  It woke me up.  I stirred and thought, "I guess she left and I didn't hear her."  Unfortunately, neither my alarm nor Katy's alarm woke Katy up.  And she had a flight to catch.  Five minutes later, Katy shot up in her bed and blurted.  "Oh sh*t!"  And that's how I ended up at the airport in my pajamas.  And how Nik and I managed to get back, change, go out for breakfast (and come up with a brilliant baking idea-- pumpkin bread with Raisinets) and return again, all by 9am.  It was a very productive morning.

Peer to Peer

Dear Reviewer 1:
  The feeling is mutual.

Sincerely,

Annoyed and Reviewed

Those Who Do and Those Who Can't

Wednesday was a chaotic day.  It was less dramatic than the day before, which had me both wiping Mother's blood off of the kitchen floor and offending an eminent missionary family.  But it was tiring and busy, and I have a swollen mosquito bite because of it.  In my younger days, I used to be all about service.  I worked for the Center for the Common Good, built houses on weekends, and spent my vacations interning at non-profit organizations or leading service trips.  Nowadays, the staff meal at BP is my one piece of annual do-goodery left.  By that, I really mean, "trick D'Bomb into opening up his kitchen and spending his afternoon helping me cook for 25 people."  Which was exactly what I did on Wednesday.  I wouldn't say it was the best staff meal ever, but it sure beat the frozen beef patties we served with Nate a few years ago.  The blueberry cake was delicious, though.  Even if D'Bomb and I were the only 2 people who couldn't stop eating it (I even brought some leftovers home... the leftovers of the food I donated to BP).

Liz: We need to hang out (true- we do!).  You're always sneaking into town to hang out with this one (indicating D'Bomb).

Moi: That's only because he literally has no schedule.  Teachers and the unemployed: those are my summer friends.

Prospective Perspective

Ah, New York Times.  You were doing so well.  It has been almost a year since I last complained about the ridiculousness of your subjects.  But the good times couldn't last forever.  And well, here we go again:

Ms. von Sperling offers a Friday-to-Sunday intensive, for $8,000. One day is devoted to carrying yourself properly and the art of conversation. Treat rush, she says, as you would a job interview. Avoid politics and religion. “I teach them how to make interesting small talk: what you saw at the cinema, a trip to Europe. I don’t know too many 20-year-olds who are having a debate about economics.” Another day is for getting physically ready — hair, makeup and wardrobe. Ms. von Sperling organizes “outfits down to accessories, completely strategized.” Just in case a client forgets, outfits are photographed and placed in a style file.

Spending $8,000 on college consulting used to seem ridiculous.  But compared to spending $8,000 on a weekend consultation on getting into a club?  The figure seems respectable.  All those stories of helicopter parents and private flights for summer camps also seem almost sane compared to these mothers:

As rush grinds on, students often text their moms with frequent, sometimes tearful updates. “Drama Trauma Drama,” wrote one weary mother on a Greek chat forum. For some mothers, empathizing with the pain of peer rejection is excruciating.
“I lost six pounds that week,” recalls Julie Baselice, whose daughter Christina is now a Chi Omega at the University of Texas. “It was the most stressful experience of my life.” 

Nerds on the Beach

(this was my beach book)

This is how I like to vacation: comfortable bed, seeing nature without being in it, good food, quiet reading time, beach, and (beating everyone in) Bananagrams.  Being with my old H'Bomb friends this weekend, this was exactly how we rolled.  We got to the beach at a reasonable hour.  Applied sunscreen.  Joked around as we ate our lunches.  Then we all took out our respective books/Kindles for a couple of hours of quiet reading/napping.  This was followed by swimming, sunscreen reapplication, more lounging, and going home at another reasonable hour.  The only fuss to the whole weekend was when we tried to hunt down an ice cream shop I had recommended via Jenny.  Though we got lost a couple of times in search of it, the Cranberry Bog (craisins, dark chocolate chunks, walnut, and cranberry ice cream- aka genius) and well-constructed waffle cones were well worth the effort.  Skydiving will have to wait until next year.

(but Laura totally showed me up with hers)

It's Only Taken 3-5 Years

I have a public health blog now.  Because I'm so consistent about maintaining this one.  And the preachy posts go over so well.  I think Sister Claire came up with an idea for a college radio show once.  I don't have enough to fill 30 minutes of show time.  But I think I've gathered enough stories for a post a week for the next little while.  I hope you enjoy them.

Relatively Stupid

I regret telling Father that I sometimes quit when I play Sudoku and it takes too long to solve.  He is not impressed with my level of play.

Father: It's only Hard and you still can't solve it?

Like a Missing Child

I remember years ago, talking with Lenny about how we missed our lunch, only to have her very confused mother ask us why we didn't eat if we were hungry.  "Oh no," we said, "I didn't say I missed lunch.  I miss it.  It was a really good lunch."  Today, I found out, food longings may not run in Lenny's family, but it does in mine.

(on Thursday, Mother made tons of bamboo-wrapped sticky rice packets with a friend)

Moi: Are you going to have the pasta for lunch?

Mother: No.  I miss my sticky rice.  I'm going to have that.

Moi: Have you been away from it long?  Didn't you just make it?

Mother: I didn't have any yesterday.  Nor the day before.

Never Ending Story

I know these are cheap posts, but five years in, I still don't tire of a good Whitecastle-as-martinet quote.  These are not accurate portrayals of m'boss, but they sure are fun.

(overhearing Big Chief discussing his travel arrangements)

Moi: Everyone is leaving town.

Whitecastle: Yes.  But that doesn't mean that those who are staying can stop working.

Moi: I spent the weekend proofreading your CV*.

Whitecastle: As things should be.

*Not actual portrayal of me-- exaggerations go both ways in creative writing (speaking).  How fascinating.

My Father's Keeper

Father's Cardiologist: Your children, they're grown?  They support themselves?

Moi: Uh... what if they're starving grad students (and can't support the parents)?

Father's Cardiologist: (to father) That's not your problem.  That's theirs.