Groundhog Day

On Friday JD had to have a very minor procedure done. (He’s fine.)  The doctors were nice enough to give him some conscious sedation and let me just tell you that seeing my husband completely stoned was one of the funniest things I’ve ever witnessed in my life.

While there were several recurring themes in his ramblings, this was the one that tickled me the most.

“Hey honey, how are you”

(through half closed eyes) “I’m good.  Hey, did you know that my doctor used to live in Old Town Alexandria?  But he and his wife didn’t like the fact that drunk people kept puking on their doorstep so they moved.”

” Yeah, well I can see why.”

At this point his eyes rolled back into his head and he started snoring.

15 minutes later he opens his eyes and says,

“Hey, did you know that my doctor used to live in Old Town Alexandria?  But he and his wife didn’t like the fact that drunk people kept puking on their doorstep so they moved.”

“Oh, yeah, I can see why they would want to move.”

Head back, eyes closed.

15 minutes later:

“Hey, did you know that my doctor used to live in Old Town Alexandria?’

“Oh, really?  Did they have people puking on their doorstep?”

Eyes widen:  “Yeah, they did!”

Pause.

“Did I tell you that already?”

“Yep”

“Oh.”

This went on and on for the next 4 hours.  It was hilarious.

It was our own little version of the movie “Groundhog Day”.

It was almost as funny as this.

Wish I’d had my video camera.

Easy Winter Supper

There is a big ice and snow storm headed our way.  So I decided to do my grocery shopping tonight after work in order to avoid getting stuck without bread and milk and (who are we kidding?) cheeze-its and nutter butter cookies.

Seems like a few hundred people had the same idea cause the commissary was packed.  Between that  and the large number of folks who think it’s a grand idea to stop their cart in the smack dab middle of the isle while they decide between the creamy and the crunchy Skippy, it took me well over an hour to get finished and back in the car.

This put me back at home far later than I had planned and with two children begging for dinner.  To be fair, JD called and asked me if he could start something for dinner while I was on the way home, but 1. there wasn’t much in the house (hence the grocery run) and 2. I had a plan brewing.

I walked in the house at 6pm and at 6:40 we sat down to dinner.  It was delicious.  Healthy and hearty and yummy.  The spice list is long, but it comes together so easily that it’s worth investing in them.

Plus, I’d put money on the fact that you’ll be making this over and over again.

Chana Masala: adapted from the adaptation from Smitten Kitchen

1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 medium onions, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
2 teaspoons grated fresh ginger
1 fresh, hot green chili pepper, minced (jalapeno was my choice–seeds removed. Leave them in if you’d like more of a bite)
1 tablespoon ground coriander
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper (I left this out because I wanted the girls to eat it)
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
2 teaspoons cumin seeds, toasted and ground *
2 teaspoons paprika
1 teaspoon garam masala
2 cups tomatoes, chopped small or 1 15-ounce can of whole tomatoes with their juices, chopped small
2/3 cup water
4 cups cooked chickpeas or 2 (15-ounce) cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 lemon (juiced)

Heat oil in a large skillet. Add onion, garlic, ginger and pepper and sauté over medium heat until browned, about 5 minutes. Turn heat down to medium-low and add the coriander, cumin, cayenne, turmeric, cumin seeds, amchoor (if using it), paprika and garam masala. Cook onion mixture with spiced for a minute or two, then add the tomatoes and any accumulated juices, scraping up any bits that have stuck to the pan. Add the water and chickpeas. Simmer uncovered for 10 minutes, then stir in salt and lemon juice.

* Put the seeds in a small skillet, turn on medium heat and wait til you start smelling them.  Toss them around a bit and then throw in a coffee grinder to grind them up.

Katie (our “meat-atarian”, as she calls herself) suggested adding chopped chicken and I think that sounds like a fine idea.

I picked up some store bought naan to serve with it, but any kind of bread would do.  Believe me, you’ll want something to sop up every bit of the sauce.

Control

The parallel lines on her forearm were still fresh enough to have scabs on them.

“Want to tell me about those?”  I asked her quietly.

Tears welled up as she looked away and told me she didn’t want to talk about it.

So I dropped it.

For five minutes or so.  I went on focusing on the reason she was in my office to begin with.  Something unrelated.  And certainly less complicated.

Then I asked again.  “How long have you been cutting yourself?”

The story spilled out of her in fits and starts.  Years of fighting depression.  Begging her parents for help and being told she should just learn to wake up and choose to be happy.  Still living at home at 22 and working for her dad.  Wanting to get away, be independent and unable to make the break. Having crying fits and anxiety attacks over things such as having too many apples in the pantry.  Things that she can’t explain and she can’t control.

“It’s the one thing I can control.  I can control how much this hurts me.  I can’t do that with anything else.”

At times like those I feel sadly inadequate for the task at hand.  Where do you begin to unravel a problem like that in a short office visit?

Ten years in family practice is teaching me that I can’t fix everything for everyone.

I do what I can.

Today that meant listening and making sure she felt heard.  Giving her some resources and hoping she’ll choose to use them.  And extracting a promise of a return visit in a month.  Which she may or may not keep.

I hope she does.

Strike Two

So today my second little old lady fell out and had to be taken by ambulance to the hospital.

I think the EMT’s are going to start talking about me…………..

I guess this is what I can expect from a practice where so far the average age seems to be 82.

I sometimes find myself thinking about the gadgets my children are growing up with.  About the fact that they will never remember a time when there weren’t multiple computers in our house.   That they have no idea what the Encyclopedia Britannica is but will instead do their research by typing a word or phrase into Google.

Rotary phones have never existed for them.  Neither have 8 track tape players.

Which just happened to be what I received for my 16th birthday, complete with Boston’s “Don’t Look Back” tape which I wore slap out over the next several months.  Alternating that with the Bay City Rollers and the Stone Brothers, of course.

Today Katie was doing a report for social studies and she said she needed my help on something.

“Mommy, what is that thing that they used to play on those things with the big thing coming out of the top of it.

(The fact that I understood exactly what she was asking me is a source of endless frustration to her daddy as he wishes we would all be a little more descriptive in our questions.  My brother in law suffers the same  thing with my sister.)

“You mean a gramophone?”

“No, I mean that black disc thing they played on it.”

“You mean a record?”

“Yeah, that’s  it.”

And it made me just a little sad that she’ll probably never hear the hiss of a record player as it plays her favorite Barry Manilow album for the fifteenth time that day.

http://z.about.com/d/top40/1/0/1/A/manilowlive.jpg

That she won’t hold a record jacket in her hand and admire Peter Frampton’s curly locks ( I was partial to the “LIVE” albums)

I’m pretty sure they mostly came from the Columbia Record Club 12 for 1 penny sale.

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pbV9QqddqnE/SYutgriIGLI/AAAAAAAAAl8/6AQjf3dZxCU/s400/Peter_Frampton_Frampton_Comes_Alive.jpg

or try to figure out how those boys from Kiss walk in those crazy platform shoes.

http://www.esquire.com/cm/esquire/images/kiss-destroyer-2009-lg-17422423.jpg

(That one was by brother’s)

Call  me crazy, but I think these kids are missing something with their little ipod screens, don’t you?

Gray Skies

I had forgotten just how gray the midwest can be in February.  When the sun does manage to peek through, it is cause for celebration.  But it never lasts long.  It makes a girl’s thoughts turn to anything that reminds her of sun and warmer weather.  I’ve found myself dreaming of white sand beaches and fruity drinks and endless sunshine.

Alas, since I just started my job and have accrued all of 1.8 vacation hours, for now I’ll just have to make my own sunshine.  And on Saturday night this little beauty did just the trick.

Try it out.  It’ll make you forget all those gray skies, too.

*Feel free to use any mixture of citrus you can find, but by all means get blood oranges if you can.  They really make this dish extra beautiful.  Oh, and I’m not a huge fan of the kumquat, so I left them out.

Orange, Avocado and Green Picholine Olive Salad

from my dear friend and cooking buddy, Julie

2 large navel oranges
3 bood oranges
3 Tbsp orange juice
1Tbsp Balsamic vinegar
1tsp honey
3Tbsp Extra Virgin olive oil
salt and freshly ground pepper
2 medium, ripe avocados
3/4c green picholine olives or other imported green or black olives
4 kumquats, thinly sliced
Fresh chervil as a garnish, optional

Grate enough zest from 1 of the navel oranges to measure 1tsp. Set aside in a small bowl. Using a sharp knife, cut the tops and bottoms off the navel and blood oranges to reveal the flesh. Cut off all of the peel so that no white pith remains. (Go here to see pictures of how to do this. Follow the steps only until the fruit is completely peeled, then proceed with recipe) Cut the oranges crosswise into 1/4inch slices. Set aside.

In the bowl containing the orange zest, whisk together the orange juice, balsamic, honey and oil. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

When you are ready to assemble and serve the salad, cut the avocado in half from top to bottom. With a sharp knife blade, tap the pit so that the blade lodges in the pit. Twist the knife slightly to remove the pit. Discard. With a large spoon, remove the flesh of the avocado in 1 piece. Cut each avocado half into 8 slices.

Place the various citrus slices on a serving plate, alternating with slices of avocado. Drizzle the vinaigrette over the oranges and avocado. Garnish with olives, kumquats, and chervil and serve immediately.

Serves 6 (unless you are serving me and then it pretty much just serves one)

Pink

Remember this couple?

You may remember that they married after life brought them back together after YEARS apart.

And if that weren’t blessing enough……

It’s a girl.

Olivia June.

Due this summer.

Anxiously awaited by lots of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins

who just can’t wait to spoil

this new little girl within an inch of her life.

It seemed to happen just like that.

We are trying to find a small group to attend with folks from our group.  It has been a bit of a challenge and I’ve had a bad attitude about it.

Humph.

We went last night (me mentally kicking and screaming while physically bearing homemade sweet rolls and smiling….faker…..). It was really a lovely group.  As JD said, he liked the spiritual vibe of the group.  They were sweet and oh so welcoming.

But seriously, I’ve got 15 years on all of them.  At least.  They all have little bitty kids.  Like, ones that can’t talk yet.  And they haven’t given their maternity clothes or baby equipment away.  They are trying to figure out careers and family and school.  They wear cool glasses and shoes and have cute haircuts and perky b………

Well, you get the picture.

And I was whining to JD about it last night.

“But honey, I feel old there.  No one has kids our age.  They are so young and not anywhere near where we are in life.  We’ve done all that school and career and baby stuff.  Where are the women my age?

AND WHY DOES NONE OF THIS BOTHER YOU?!

But today I’m feeling differently about it.

Maybe we are supposed to be the older couple in this group.  Maybe the fact that we have gone through a lot of these experiences and come out the other side will be helpful to somebody.  Not because we have any great amount of wisdom but there is something to be said about the perspective you have on things in your 40s.

Maybe we are there just to let them know you can survive these years with very young children, because Lord have mercy, wouldn’t you have loved to have someone tell you that when you were in the middle of it?

So perhaps being the older woman won’t be so bad after all.

Maybe.

On our way back from church Sunday morning, I looked back to see Elena reading her bible.

How sweet, I thought, and turned my attention back toward the road.

Then she says, “Mama, what is semen?”

Thinking I surely had not heard correctly, I asked her to repeat it.

Which she did.

So still hoping against hope she was just mispronouncing something else, I asked her to read the sentence to me.

And straight out of Genesis, Elena read the following verse.

May you be blessed by it as we were.

But Onan knew that the offspring would not be his. So whenever he went in to his brother’s wife he would waste the semen on the ground, so as not to give offspring to his brother.  Genesis 38:9

As you can imagine, this required some explanation on our part.

And here I’ve been worried about what they might see on the Disney channel.  When all along I should have been worried about the Old Testament.

I told her that perhaps she should turn to another passage.

When I looked back again, she had her bible open to Leviticus.

Great.

In An Instant

So I was feeling pretty good about being back to work. Things were going smoothly. I love the folks I’m working with. I had not, in fact, forgotten everything I knew in the six months I had been away.

Then today an elderly woman tried her hardest to die right in front of me.

Now, I don’t know how many of you have ever watched someone die but it can be slow and agonizing or it can be fast and furious.

This would fall into the fast and furious column.

I was going along minding my own business, when one of the gals at the front desk said, “Hey, I’ve got someone here who can’t breathe.”

Really, in my experience, that’s never been a good thing to hear.

I look up to see this poor elderly woman gasping for breath. We quickly got her into a wheelchair and one of the girls asked if we should call the squad.

Yes.

Absolutely yes.

Now the squad was there in less than 5 minutes, but I would have sworn it was 5 years. Time slowed down in some crazy kind of way. We got oxygen on her and watched her oxygen saturation recover only to plummet right down to dangerous again. She got sweaty and anxious and kept gasping “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.” She felt sick to her stomach and she hurt all over and I swear I was standing there trying to calm her down and watching the very life leave her.

And in that moment I had a total understanding of “the peace that passes all understanding”. It was like I was watching this all happen from the ceiling or something. I have been in situations similar to this and could hardly keep my knees from buckling. I would feel my heart beating so hard that I was afraid I was going to join the patient on the floor. My mind would be swirling a thousand different directions.

But this time that didn’t happened. My heart stayed calm, my hands didn’t sweat and my thoughts were focused. My legs held me up. (Yes, Jim, I totally know who to thank for that!)

The squad got there and got her on the stretcher. And though I didn’t think it possible, she continued to look worse and worse. She turned a shade of gray that was just wrong in so many ways.

They loaded her up and out the door they went.

(Meanwhile her husband, who I’m just going to give the benefit of the doubt and say that he was unaware of how serious it all was, continued checking out and telling our very distracted office manager about his recent knee operation.)

After they were all gone we just looked at each other.

Because I think we all realized just how quickly your life can change. How quickly it can end.

We learned a little bit later that she crashed in the ambulance right outside our door and they had to work hard at getting her breathing again. She was later admitted to ICU in acute respiratory failure.

Not five minutes before this all happened, she had been talking to our receptionist and taking care of some business while we drew some blood from her husband.

And in an instant.

It all changed.

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