A two week hiatus

Well, I'm back. Again. These past two weeks have been good ones, though very busy. I think part of feeling busy, of course, is the long days of residency, though certainly another part is life in New York City. Its denizens become accustomed to spending 30 minutes getting to a nearby neighborhood, or up to an hour traveling to another borrough.

I will try to share some highlights of the last two weeks in posts to come. First, however, a picture of my cousin Lucia, whom I visted a month ago in Washington D.C. I thought this was a great picture!

My Lone Star Vacation, part one

Today's been a busy call day at the hospital. A craniotomy for clipping a cerebral aneurysm kept me busy from 0800 until 1715. I grabbed some food with the fellow residents in the lounge after the case, and then had some alone time on the 12th floor roof looking out over Manhattan. The skyline at dusk and a nippy 50-degree breeze (That's 11 degrees Celsius, for my down-under readers) greeted me as I walked into the open air.

That's all I have to say about that. I wanted to share some highlights and pictures from my vacation in Texas last week. Even though I felt like three months away from my home-state was a significant amount of time, when I returned it was amazing how it felt that no time had passed since I left!

Memories include:

• Working all day with my family to prepare a shower for my cousin Lauren and fiance Trevor in our backyard. About 50 people came, though I think we had food for a hundred.

My Lone Star Vacation, part two

• Breakfast with Adam Sunday morning at La Madeleine.
• Park Cities Presbyterian Church with Dawn. Phenomenal organ music.
• Lunch with medical school friends after church

• Hanging out with David O at our old apartment in the afternoon.

• Dinner with Scott, Bonnie, and Chanelle at one of my favorite casual dining establishments, Cafe Express.
• Dessert with David and Scott.
• Breakfast Monday with Nathan.
• Visiting my old hospital.
• Lunch with Mom and Charity.
• Dessert with Adam & Ashley.
• Mom and me spending the night with Aunt Sara, Uncle Ken.
• A trip to Sam's
• Visiting Clint & Kristin in Waco. I learned never to rub my eye after taking out the seeds of a jalepeno pepper. I mowed their yard to be helpful since the baby comes in just a couple weeks!
• Visiting the Arboretum with Shelley, Roman, and Bella.
• A beer at the Ginger Man with David & David.
• Dinner with Clay & Lori. Spending the night at their place and seeing their morning routine.
  
  

My Lone Star Vacation, part 3

I left the day after I got back to New York for Philadelphia and spent some time with Uncle Paul and Aunt Betty. As usual, Aunt Betty had plenty of great, homemade food waiting!

Sunday I was back at Emmanuel, and I hosted a group of eight for "Guess Who's Coming To Dinner". This is a potluck dinner where no one knows who else will be there. Two or three guests were kind enough to help me with the dishes afterward.

This next picture is from a different evening; it's the "Asian" small group I've visited a couple times. I'm not sure if they're so warm to me because they like me, or because I make their group more multicultural.

Far Rockaway

Confronted with a one-day weekend (as I'm on call tomorrow) I made a plan for how to best utilize it. This included:

• Housecleaning. My weekly chores comprise sweeping, dusting, watering plants, and cleaning the kitchen and bathroom.
• Watching a little of the Ric Burns New York Documentary series.
• Reading some anesthesiology.
• Riding the entire length of the A train. It's approximately thirty miles from Washington Heights to Far Rockaway in Queens past JFK Airport. I felt a neat sense of connectedness with my grandmother, Joy, when Mom later told me that Joy would grab a book and ride the "L" in Chicago for an inexpensive day out, exactly as I had done today, some fifty years later.

I wish I'd set aside more time to hang out in Rockaway. It has the feel of a small community despite its being part of the largest city in the United States. Some pictures:

A main street in Rockaway.

A firehouse.

The sandy area which lies just before the beach. The plant life in this place, whether in New York or Florida, always seems rather scrubby.

Park bench in the afternoon sun. I liked the lighting effect in this picture.

A dune with grass.

Silvery waves crashing on the beach. Gulls were flying, and plenty of people were out fishing in the cold water. The salty wind was a refreshing change from the typical Manhattan air.

My superlative D.C. weekend

Still playing "catch-up", this post is a continuation of this one.

The morning was still gray and damp when I arrived in Chinatown. I hurried from the subway station at Grand Avenue along the slick streets where men unloaded fresh fish from trucks and the blue steel of the Manhattan Bridge loomed above. One of the more startling things about the Chinatown bus system that ferries budget-conscious travelers between major cities on the eastern seaboard is that there's really no station. One rounds a corner and stumbles upon a small crowd of suitcase-toting passengers and a white bus that either bears cryptic words like "Fung-Wah" or is creepily unmarked.

On my way to Washington I sat next to a Polish fellow who was studying computer science at a university in New York. This was a real-live case study where I could put my knowledge of European current events (gleaned from The Economist, naturally) to the test. We talked a few minutes about changes in Poland since joining the EU, the migratory patterns of skilled and unskilled workers in Eastern Europe, and possible government reforms in Poland. Pleased with myself for daring to enter such a conversation, though wary of getting in over my head, the conversation soon shifted to our respective plans in this nation's capital.

My good friend from college, Emily, picked me up from the bus station, and as we drove toward Georgetown pointed out interesting landmarks including where she used to work and the upscale restaurant where she and her husband recently had a $30 three-course dinner as part of the local eateries' promotion. We also drove past a huge flight of stairs near campus which was in a famous horror film, but of course I couldn't remember the name of the movie when telling the story later, and I still can't remember it. Kinda takes away some of the punch of the moment.

My cousin Lucia met up with us--she's a freshman at Georgetown--and showed us around campus, including her dorm. Here's a picture of Lucia and me on the terraced rooftop of one of the upper-classmen dorms with a great view of the river and the Washington Monument.


We dined at a local Indian restaurant, and then Emily and I met up with Seth at a "passing on the torch" Saturday afternoon get-together at their church. Emily is taking over the coordination of the church's Sunday morning coffee hour, and this was a key meeting where she could network with the various hosts. Seth and I networked with the snack buffet. Wherever there are Methodists gathered, there will also be good food.


This was my first time to see Emily & Seth's home in a smaller town in Maryland. Regrettably I didn't take pictures, but the best parts of the "split-foyer" home were the automatic apple-peeler, and the back deck where Stumpy lives. Stumpy is a little turtle who has been part of the K_____ household for several years. A student gave him to Seth back when they lived in Texas, and Stumpy is so named because his two front legs are just that. He seems to get around okay, though, and enjoys a diet of mealworms.

The remainder of my time there consisted of a great Mexican food dinner (New York sadly has a paucity of good Mexican places), and church on Sunday morning, with a home-cooked Sunday lunch. Another picture of Seth & me at the kitchen table while the pork roasted. (You can see that I'm busy working, while Seth is doing a little light reading.)

On days like today...

On days like today when nothing of note happened, it's difficult to write a post.

There's really no need to write about my awakening in the middle of the night to the crash of my white pull-down window shade falling to the floor, or the incessant "Barber of Seville" alarm tune of my cell phone as I forgot to take it off snooze while I showered. For that matter, it would bear no relevance to mention that I now shower with the bathroom door open a bit to keep the mirror from fogging and to slow mildew growth, as advised by Aunt Betty.

Clearly no one would want to read about my piping hot cup of green tea which lifts my spirits during my morning commute on the groaning subway while I thumb through my dog-eared news journal, or how I prefer to walk a block along the dawn-lit street past the carts of street vendors selling bagels and sausages, rather than trudge that block through the yell0w-lit hospital even though it's more direct.

How boring to note that I remembered Christian had told me that Thursday was "Taco Day" in the cafeteria as I walked through its doors, only to see Christian making himself tacos, piling sharp yellow cheddar over hospital-grade ground beef and crisp shells.

Of course now is not the time to say that surgeons sure can be irritating when they ask what the blood pressure is every two minutes, or how my heart soared when I was relieved at 1600, just when I was about to pre-op my final case of the day. And a blog is not the place to relate my special trip to Target today to buy a VHS tape to record The Office (not knowing the VCR would fail me), and how I bought 15-watt fluorescent bulbs there which have the same light output as 60-watt incandescent ones.

If this were a menu I might describe my pan-seared tilapia with crushed red pepper and parmesan cheese on top, or my green spinach salad with lemon juice and little Greek olives, or my small serving of special dark chocolate squares with toasted almonds. But it isn't.

It would be of no importance to dwell on the cool, gentle breeze and muted street noise wafting in my window in this moment, or the warm glow of the lamp on the cocoa walls and my soft beige comforter pulled back. Nor will I linger on how pleasantly warm my feet are when stocking-clad, or how my pillow knows just how much to give and how much to support my head as my eyelids grow just a bit heavier...as I sink into the end of yet another day.

Lions & tigers & bears...

I love it when I can link two seemingly unrelated experiences in one post, which I will now proceed to do.

A month or so ago, some friends and I were dining at the Carnegie Deli in Manhattan's Midtown. One in our party ordered a sandwhich called "The Mouth that Roared." At least 8 inches tall, this culinary offering comprised layers of pastrami, cheese, egg, and tomato. Even in the context of the generously portioned fare typical of this establishment, this sandwich was impressive.

While we were talking and laughing about it--even taking pictures--I noticed a 5 year-old girl at the next table who caught sight of the sandwich. She was already an adorable kid to start with, but when her mouth dropped open and she tapped her daddy on the shoulder in total amazement, she transcended levels of cuteness that ordinary kids achieve only on a good day.

And just the other day as I was on the train to Philadelphia, I was speaking with a 30-something woman on her way to a class reunion at Swarthmore. With her was her three-year-old half-Korean, half-Caucasion son, who at one point whispered to his mother. She then looked at me and said, "Would it be okay if Timmy showed you his roar?"

I wish I had him on video! The child squeezed his little hands into fists, arms bent at the elbow, took a deep breath, and then..."Grrrrrrr!!!" The overall effect was that of a kitten trying to imitate a lion's growl.

So there, two cute kids, two roars, one post.

Gladys' calf

My parents have pared down the herd to two cows. Our original bull, Supper, got sent to the auction along with the majority of his harem. With escalating hay prices and all-too-frequent Texas droughts, it wasn't cost-effective to keep a larger herd.

My parents did keep, however, two cows which tend to have better calves. The quality of the calf can make a big difference in the price per pound they bring at the auction. I have yet to figure out how they'll continue to have calfs, unless that new equipment under the kitchen sink is for bovine IVF.

Here's a couple pictures of Gladys' new calf. (Gladys, in the tradition of naming cows after the women in my dad's family, bears my great-grandmother's eponym.)

Catching up

Once again, the blog has been neglected. My readers cry for help from the ditch beside the road. For the last two weeks, I've simply gathered my robes and hurried about my life, looking the other way.

But I'm back. Never again will I let this happen. I have started afresh. A new leaf. An open book. The curtain rises.

Yeah, yeah. Right. Get over it, readers. I'm busy, okay? It's called residency! Yes, I know, I know, it's anesthesia, but I'm still working harder than those Wall Street traders I know. So two weeks went by. It's happened before; it'll happen again.

(To my more mild-mannered and gentle readers, I apologize for that brief tirade, but it must be understood by those nervy patrons of Mulberry Street who is the one writing this blog.)

So here we are. I wanted to share a brief synopsis--the highlight reel--of my busy September weekends.

September 1-4 Labor Day weekend. New & old friends Jessica, Michael, and Sarah in town. We strolled the Brooklyn Bridge, ate pastrami elbow-to-elbow with strangers at the Carnegie Deli, and braved the rain on our self-guided tour of Columbia. I cooked a garlic-embedded leg of lamb one evening, which we enjoyed. One particular fellow sitting ahead of us at Spamalot did not seem to enjoy the garlic during the funnier parts of the musical. And then there was the stroll through the park, sushi & sake, dim sum, and the Empire State Building. I did more tourist things that one weekend than in two full months in The City.

September 8-10 The weekend started with my birthday on Friday spent on short call. Yippee. Roommate Clay treated me to dinner that night at what is destined not to be our new neighborhood hangout, Rancho Jubilee. Dark. Candle-lit. Caribbean decor. Creepy romantic Latin music. At least the shrimp and sauces were good! The next day friends from Philadelphia--Luke, Marianne, and Lucy--came in town. We had brunch at a sports bar, I finally visted the Cloisters, and later we enjoyed Magnolia cupcakes in Washington Square Park. On Sunday I hung out with Justin after church on the "urban beach" of Columbia's steppy mall, and picnicked in Central Park with other residents. And by sheer, random chance met William, whom my sister knew in Fort Worth.

September 16, 17 Overnight call on Saturday has a way of eating up the weekend. Thankfully there was still time for church, lunch at a cheap Mexican place with Alex, and a little social activism at the Darfur rally in Central Park where I met up with my cousins Lucia (accent over the i) and Johanna (pronounced with a y). I accompanied Johanna to afternoon church at Redeemer's East Side service. And oh yes, chanced upon William--this time with wife Katherine--yet again, entirely randomly on the street.

September 22-24 Fellowship group with my church on Friday night at Andy's amazing brownstone apartment. 12 foot ceilings, and a bay window looking out onto a tree-lined street on the Upper West Side. I arose at 0500 the following morning to take a subway to Chinatown. Awaiting my connection at 59th Street, I enjoyed listening to a few jackhammers busy at work early on a Saturday morning! The Chinatown bus took me to Washington D.C., about which I'll write more in a future post.

Coming home

My original plan for my first week of vacation during anesthesia residency was to do something new and exciting: perhaps a week in London, a trip to Toronto, or a hike in the Catskills resplendent with autumn color. As the time drew closer, however, I realized that the thing I wanted most was to go home to Texas! My three months in New York City make the longest stretch of I've ever been away from my home state.

More posts will come regarding my whirlwind tour of the Lone Star State, with over 500 miles logged under the dizzying dome of the cavernous Texas sky, but I wanted to write first about what is most recent in my mind. Sure, since moving to the northeast I'd spent a night away here or there visiting family & friends in Philadelphia and Washington D.C. But this was my first real homecoming to New York City.

I'd requested a left window seat with hopes of another flightpath up the East River and phenomenal views of Manhattan. Unfortunately my boarding pass was printed with the seat assignment 12D...aisle, right side of the plane. An airborne preview of The City, however, wouldn't have prepared me for the new sensation I experienced as I stepped outside of the terminal at LaGuardia Airport.

Leaving behind October weather in the 90's in Texas, I stepped outdoors into a sunny late New York afternoon in the 60's. A breeze greeted me as I gazed at the the purple and gray clouds streaked across the sky. In the distance rose the Empire State, Chrysler, and Citicorp Buildings. And the strange thing was that...that it was familiar. This airport was my portal back to "regular" life with my apartment, job, new friends, and church. Just a few miles away lay my bridge, the little grocery on 187th that I frequent, and the Dominicans playing dominoes on the sidewalk outside my building.

The M60 bus pulled up to the curb after a couple minutes, and it was all very normal to dip my Metrocard as I boarded and simply to read a magazine to pass the 30-minute ride into The City. Walking down the block in Harlem--past the African-American hairstyle establishment Kinky Twirls, I might add--the sidewalks crawled with humanity in the long shadows of the late afternoon. But best of all was what lay beneath the streets. Dirty, dingy, damp...New York City subways! The familiar rumbling, squealing, and screeching greeted my ears as I squeezed my suitcase, carry-on, and myself onto the packed car.

Little had changed in the apartment, except for some mail stacked on the dining room table. Enjoying my first hours of alone time during my vacation, I put on a sweater and went down to the little pub nestled halfway below street level at 181st Street. I sat alone at a tall bar table in the dark paneled room and watched college football while enjoying a burger and beer. And then, of course, the familiar fifteen minute walk home down Bennet: the bike shop, the Hebrew school, the little pastoral Lutheran church, and the semicircle of park-benches where older folks feed birds in the afternoons. I was home.