The holidays are great for catching up on food, sleep, family, friends... and the latest rankings in college basketball. Specifically UConn basketball! I was pleased to learn that the Husky Men are ranked #9 by ESPN and the women #5. However, several "experts" have left the UConn men out of the Power 16, most likely because we are a young team and have had a relatively easy schedule so far. We'll see what happens! The most important event in the UConn men's future, however, is when they come to Georgia Tech on February 11th, where there will be a DIE-HARD fan waiting to cheer them on! Also of note in the Husky world of news, is that Diana Taurasi has been voted USA Basketball female athlete of the year! All great things (including myself) come from Connecticut!! Except for Lyme Disease, which came from my hometown. Damn Borrelia Burgdoferi has to ruin everything.
Anyways, now my 4 day holiday is complete. GO HUSKIES!!! WOOOO HOOO!!!
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Always under a hundred
I didn't go to a movie last night and instead went bowling with my brother. We bowled three games. He beat me every time. My highest score was 80 something. I had 4 total strikes. I also broke a nail. I've always wanted to say that.
Monday, December 25, 2006
I don't do teeth and I haven't lost weight
Those two damn letters at the end of my name are here to stay for life. This is what I realize everytime I come home, and everytime my parents have people over our house. A couple of nights ago, a friend of the family was over and the first thing he says to me is (in the English equivalent of the Kannada original), "My mouth is paining me, please tell me if it is ok." My dad tries to come to my rescue with, "She's not a dentist" but it doesn't work. The family friend still insists he just wants someone to have a look at it. He just had a tooth extraction and wants to make sure the wound wasn't reinfected.
The other thing that annoys me when I come home are comments about my weight. I have gotten comments about how I seem to get skinnier and skinnier for my whole life (by now I should have a width equivalent to a pencil), and I don't think they'll stop EVER until my metabolism slows down.
"You must not be eating well. You are getting too much thin!"
"Ayyyy yo! She's working too hard. So much weight she has lost!"
This time I answered with, "Well, since my pants don't fit me anymore, I know that's not true." Which is true.
On another note, I'm going to a movie tonight with my bro. Yay! Merry Christmas everyone!!
The other thing that annoys me when I come home are comments about my weight. I have gotten comments about how I seem to get skinnier and skinnier for my whole life (by now I should have a width equivalent to a pencil), and I don't think they'll stop EVER until my metabolism slows down.
"You must not be eating well. You are getting too much thin!"
"Ayyyy yo! She's working too hard. So much weight she has lost!"
This time I answered with, "Well, since my pants don't fit me anymore, I know that's not true." Which is true.
On another note, I'm going to a movie tonight with my bro. Yay! Merry Christmas everyone!!
Sunday, December 24, 2006
The Baggage Handler
I finally made it back to Houston and I'm home for the holidays, but the journey was slighly arduous. After finishing a 14 hour night shift (~20 cross cover calls, 5 admissions, 4 fevers, 1/5 hrs of broken sleep and a partridge and a pear tree), I downed a cup of English Breakfast tea that I stole from the Heme-Onc floor for a caffeine lift, hugged the day people goodbye while simultaneously wishing (and singing) them a Merry Christmas, and made like a baby and head out of the hospital with the intention of driving to Grady, parking there, walking to the MARTA that would take me to the airport in time for my 11:18 flight to H-town. Phew that was a long sentence.
I walked out of the hospital and was greeted with raindrops that were falling on my head. I looked up and scoffed at the sky. HA! Did the heavens honestly believe that they were going to dampen my day (pun intended)? Hell no! It was pretty wet outside though, and I was careful while driving to avoid the small streams that had gathered by the sides of the roads.
I made it to Grady and parked, and produced my suitcase from my trunk that I had packed in 20 minutes prior to my 5 pm arrival at the hospital the evening before. Then I decided that I should probably empty my bladder, but not in the parking lot at Grady, not at the MARTA station, and definitely not at the airport. The nursery call room was the perfect place.
I walked over to Grady with my suitcase and decided to enter through the revolving doors. Now, this was always a delimma for me. They always make you feel obligated to enter through the revolving doors because there's a huge sign that says something to the effect of "Help Conserve Energy and Use the Revolving Doors." How does this work? If people keep using the other doors that you manually open, this brings the outside air in and messes up the temperature inside the hospital causing the heat/AC to go off more in the hospital. I think. Many people blatantly ignore this sign and simply use the manual doors instead. I have done this many times. On this particular day, however, I chose the revolving doors, neglecting, in my post-call stupor, to calculate that the width of my suitcase was too large to fit. Yes my friends, I got stuck in the revolving doors. It was pretty embarassing. Luckily, I extracted myself from the gnarly clutches of the revolving doors (somehow!!!) and made it inside the hospital where I took care of some business in the call room.
After saying goodbye to more people whom I ran into, I headed for the MARTA. The train. It was only a five minute walk to the train. It was during this walk that I realized I had made a mistake. I felt a buzzing noise in my purse and realized that my pager just went off. I decided to look at it and call the number back. After taking care of that and cursing the fact that I hadn't left my pager in my car, I turned the damn thing off and paid for my MARTA ticket at the lil kiosk. (Truthfully, I almost missed the parking kiosks at the Texas Medical Center that scream "Pleeeease pay for parking! Your parking fee is ten dollars!" at you.)
Here's the thing about the MARTA. It literally stinks. It smells so bad. I have no idea why. I have no idea what smells. I almost feel like it's due to some rare form of excrement that's only produced on the MARTA. Iit's almost unbearable. And it's not really the North-South line... it's the East-West line. Oh man... Anyhow, I endured the train ride and made it to the airport. At this point, I was feeling the effects of having been up for close to 20 hours straight. I put some lip gloss on with the hopes of looking less like a zombie and proceeded to check my baggage. There was no line at the check-in where the MARTA station connects to the airport! How awesome was that!
I checked my bag in and was practically skipping along to the security check, which nearly made my jaw drop. At Atlanta Hartsfield airport, there's only one security check that every single passenger flying through the airport has to go through. This is because there is a single train (that runs frequently) that takes every single passenger to his/her respective terminal (A,B,C,D). The line was so long that it ran through the general lobby area where people can lounge on couches and stare at the random Tyranosaurus Rex skeleton. This was the longest line I had ever seen at an airport before. I was glad I was really early.
Luckily, the line seemed to move along... I spent probably 20 minutes waiting before I got the chance to take off my shoes and hope to God that something on me wouldn't set off of the metal detector (I always carry this small amount of fear with me EVERY time! call me paranoid. underwire can do it, ladies!!! it HAS happened to me before!). I made it through ok and entered the little terminal train and made a beeline for the seat at the end of the train that's supposed to be reserved for senior citizens. I saw no such people in sight. Honestly, I didn't look.
I got off at Terminal C and went to the newstand. I usually treat myself to a magazine whenever I fly, even though this time around I was carrying some O'Henry Prize short stories with me that I checked out of the Decatur public library. At the newstand, I settled for Yoga magazine. What sold me on this particular magazine was the picture of the staring actress in the future The Namesake movie. She had her eyes closed and was covered in a white piece of cloth that I think was supposed to look like a sari of somesort. She looked relaxed. I wanted to be her, so I bought it.
Then I decided I was hungry. I saw Moe's to my right. There are a million Moe's in Atlanta, and I hadn't ever been to one before. I decided to try it. There were breakfast burritos, and I figured they could substitute the eggs for beans or something. I went up to the lady. "Could I have the 'Baggage Handler' please and could I substitue the eggs for something else?" The lady peered at me from under her visor, determined to make this difficult for me. "No," she said. "Fine, I'll just get it without eggs please," I said, not having energy to put up a fight, like I would normally do. "You want it without eggs?" she asked in disbelief. What did I just say?? Am I talking to the human equivalent of a wall? I assumed she had never made a Baggage Handler breakfast burrito without eggs before. I decided to be nice. "Yes." I got my Baggage Handler without eggs and with guacamole and sour cream. I ended up having to pay extra for a burrito without the main ingredient because I ordered guacamole and sour cream. I was so mad. I convinced myself that it was ok, that I was a working woman now and could afford the extra buck and a half. It's just the principle of the whole thing!! I vowed to write a letter to Moe's wanting to know why they treat their vegan customers like shit.
I ate my overpriced, underserviced burrito while reading Yoga. I learned that the movie The Namesake will be markedly different from the book. The main difference? The main character in the book is the boy, Gogol, growing up and coming to terms with his identity, whereas the main character in the movie is his mother. I wonder how that will work out. I'm thinking, though, that Mira Nair probably knows what she's doing...
After finishing my burrito, I head over to gate C7. I spot three empty chairs, put myself in one, my bag on another and attempt to fall asleep, which successfully happens. I wake up I have no idea how much later and notice that CNN is on TV. They're covering the Miss Nevada story. Then the weather. A big green blob is headed towards Atlanta. Lucky us.
Finally we board, and I feel that my luck is improving a little when I realize that there's no one in the seat next to me. Perfect for falling asleep, which again happens successfully. I'm awoken again to the sounds of undersized pretzel bags crunching open. I decide that I want the 8 pretzels that have come along with my $300 ticket.
Finally, I get to Houston, and I see my dad. I'm really happy to see him, but it's hard to have the energy to get cranial nerve VII to activate and move my muscles of facial expression (YES, i'm a big nerd and I'm proud of it, dammit). I get my bag and we head over to the car. Here's the clincher. My father has realized that he's LOCKED THE KEYS IN THE CAR!!!
I begin to laugh. It really was funny. I was so tired, that I was amused by the situation. My father actually locked the keys in the car! He's never done anything like that before! And he decides to do it on a day when I'm super tired! How much funnier can it get! I call my mom, and I'm honestly laughing when I tell her that she has to come bail us out. "Are you joking?" she asks. "Do I sound like I'm joking?" I say, trying to stifle my laughter, knowing very well that it does sound like I'm joking. My mom says she's on her way.
Then come the tears. Now, I didn't burst into tears. I didn't even sniffle or sob. My eyes did, however, well up with tears and down they came rolling along my cheeks. My father sees this and he feels really really bad. Then I feel really bad. I didn't mean to cry, it just happened. And to my defense, I did laugh about it first.
To make the long story finally come to an end, I made it home ok. I made it home, my mom fed me and she ran her fingers through my hair as I put my head in her lap. And that made it all better.
I walked out of the hospital and was greeted with raindrops that were falling on my head. I looked up and scoffed at the sky. HA! Did the heavens honestly believe that they were going to dampen my day (pun intended)? Hell no! It was pretty wet outside though, and I was careful while driving to avoid the small streams that had gathered by the sides of the roads.
I made it to Grady and parked, and produced my suitcase from my trunk that I had packed in 20 minutes prior to my 5 pm arrival at the hospital the evening before. Then I decided that I should probably empty my bladder, but not in the parking lot at Grady, not at the MARTA station, and definitely not at the airport. The nursery call room was the perfect place.
I walked over to Grady with my suitcase and decided to enter through the revolving doors. Now, this was always a delimma for me. They always make you feel obligated to enter through the revolving doors because there's a huge sign that says something to the effect of "Help Conserve Energy and Use the Revolving Doors." How does this work? If people keep using the other doors that you manually open, this brings the outside air in and messes up the temperature inside the hospital causing the heat/AC to go off more in the hospital. I think. Many people blatantly ignore this sign and simply use the manual doors instead. I have done this many times. On this particular day, however, I chose the revolving doors, neglecting, in my post-call stupor, to calculate that the width of my suitcase was too large to fit. Yes my friends, I got stuck in the revolving doors. It was pretty embarassing. Luckily, I extracted myself from the gnarly clutches of the revolving doors (somehow!!!) and made it inside the hospital where I took care of some business in the call room.
After saying goodbye to more people whom I ran into, I headed for the MARTA. The train. It was only a five minute walk to the train. It was during this walk that I realized I had made a mistake. I felt a buzzing noise in my purse and realized that my pager just went off. I decided to look at it and call the number back. After taking care of that and cursing the fact that I hadn't left my pager in my car, I turned the damn thing off and paid for my MARTA ticket at the lil kiosk. (Truthfully, I almost missed the parking kiosks at the Texas Medical Center that scream "Pleeeease pay for parking! Your parking fee is ten dollars!" at you.)
Here's the thing about the MARTA. It literally stinks. It smells so bad. I have no idea why. I have no idea what smells. I almost feel like it's due to some rare form of excrement that's only produced on the MARTA. Iit's almost unbearable. And it's not really the North-South line... it's the East-West line. Oh man... Anyhow, I endured the train ride and made it to the airport. At this point, I was feeling the effects of having been up for close to 20 hours straight. I put some lip gloss on with the hopes of looking less like a zombie and proceeded to check my baggage. There was no line at the check-in where the MARTA station connects to the airport! How awesome was that!
I checked my bag in and was practically skipping along to the security check, which nearly made my jaw drop. At Atlanta Hartsfield airport, there's only one security check that every single passenger flying through the airport has to go through. This is because there is a single train (that runs frequently) that takes every single passenger to his/her respective terminal (A,B,C,D). The line was so long that it ran through the general lobby area where people can lounge on couches and stare at the random Tyranosaurus Rex skeleton. This was the longest line I had ever seen at an airport before. I was glad I was really early.
Luckily, the line seemed to move along... I spent probably 20 minutes waiting before I got the chance to take off my shoes and hope to God that something on me wouldn't set off of the metal detector (I always carry this small amount of fear with me EVERY time! call me paranoid. underwire can do it, ladies!!! it HAS happened to me before!). I made it through ok and entered the little terminal train and made a beeline for the seat at the end of the train that's supposed to be reserved for senior citizens. I saw no such people in sight. Honestly, I didn't look.
I got off at Terminal C and went to the newstand. I usually treat myself to a magazine whenever I fly, even though this time around I was carrying some O'Henry Prize short stories with me that I checked out of the Decatur public library. At the newstand, I settled for Yoga magazine. What sold me on this particular magazine was the picture of the staring actress in the future The Namesake movie. She had her eyes closed and was covered in a white piece of cloth that I think was supposed to look like a sari of somesort. She looked relaxed. I wanted to be her, so I bought it.
Then I decided I was hungry. I saw Moe's to my right. There are a million Moe's in Atlanta, and I hadn't ever been to one before. I decided to try it. There were breakfast burritos, and I figured they could substitute the eggs for beans or something. I went up to the lady. "Could I have the 'Baggage Handler' please and could I substitue the eggs for something else?" The lady peered at me from under her visor, determined to make this difficult for me. "No," she said. "Fine, I'll just get it without eggs please," I said, not having energy to put up a fight, like I would normally do. "You want it without eggs?" she asked in disbelief. What did I just say?? Am I talking to the human equivalent of a wall? I assumed she had never made a Baggage Handler breakfast burrito without eggs before. I decided to be nice. "Yes." I got my Baggage Handler without eggs and with guacamole and sour cream. I ended up having to pay extra for a burrito without the main ingredient because I ordered guacamole and sour cream. I was so mad. I convinced myself that it was ok, that I was a working woman now and could afford the extra buck and a half. It's just the principle of the whole thing!! I vowed to write a letter to Moe's wanting to know why they treat their vegan customers like shit.
I ate my overpriced, underserviced burrito while reading Yoga. I learned that the movie The Namesake will be markedly different from the book. The main difference? The main character in the book is the boy, Gogol, growing up and coming to terms with his identity, whereas the main character in the movie is his mother. I wonder how that will work out. I'm thinking, though, that Mira Nair probably knows what she's doing...
After finishing my burrito, I head over to gate C7. I spot three empty chairs, put myself in one, my bag on another and attempt to fall asleep, which successfully happens. I wake up I have no idea how much later and notice that CNN is on TV. They're covering the Miss Nevada story. Then the weather. A big green blob is headed towards Atlanta. Lucky us.
Finally we board, and I feel that my luck is improving a little when I realize that there's no one in the seat next to me. Perfect for falling asleep, which again happens successfully. I'm awoken again to the sounds of undersized pretzel bags crunching open. I decide that I want the 8 pretzels that have come along with my $300 ticket.
Finally, I get to Houston, and I see my dad. I'm really happy to see him, but it's hard to have the energy to get cranial nerve VII to activate and move my muscles of facial expression (YES, i'm a big nerd and I'm proud of it, dammit). I get my bag and we head over to the car. Here's the clincher. My father has realized that he's LOCKED THE KEYS IN THE CAR!!!
I begin to laugh. It really was funny. I was so tired, that I was amused by the situation. My father actually locked the keys in the car! He's never done anything like that before! And he decides to do it on a day when I'm super tired! How much funnier can it get! I call my mom, and I'm honestly laughing when I tell her that she has to come bail us out. "Are you joking?" she asks. "Do I sound like I'm joking?" I say, trying to stifle my laughter, knowing very well that it does sound like I'm joking. My mom says she's on her way.
Then come the tears. Now, I didn't burst into tears. I didn't even sniffle or sob. My eyes did, however, well up with tears and down they came rolling along my cheeks. My father sees this and he feels really really bad. Then I feel really bad. I didn't mean to cry, it just happened. And to my defense, I did laugh about it first.
To make the long story finally come to an end, I made it home ok. I made it home, my mom fed me and she ran her fingers through my hair as I put my head in her lap. And that made it all better.
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