Monday, November 26, 2007
Sunday's Sunset
George and I stopped in Pacifica on Sunday evening to check out the sunset. It needs no words:
Sunday, November 25, 2007
The Juggernaut Stymied
George finally beat me in Scrabble. Twice in row. I confess I threw minor temper tantrums (I have yet to progress beyond my 10-year-old self when it comes to one-on-one competition). The board below illustrates George's second victory. "Pithy" was a 49-point word and really the game-deciding play.
A few weeks ago, Otis' brother Silas was in town for work, and one weekend I accompanied them to Ocean Beach to take in some chilly sunshine while they surfed a bit. The two surfers wading in the distance are the Warren brothers clad in wetsuits.
Another day, the three of us went for a little city bike-ride. This photo is at the Cliff House.
Otis, Elle, George, and I enjoyed a Friday Thanksgiving meal since Otis had to work on Thursday. We played some Scrabble (I won both games--take that, George!), watched some Arrested Development, and generally goofed off. Elle and I cooked. I was responsible for the turkey, which came out quite dry. Bummer. I did, however, make a yummy apple pie.
Elle made a batch of amazing mulled cider, using these lovely spices.
The sunset view that evening from Otis and Elle's apartment was gorgeous.
George actually took Thursday off, and we were guests at two Thanksgiving dinners--one was my work friend's meal and the other was George's project manager's.
Last night, George and I dined with two of my co-residents, Kim and Aras, at the Blue Jay Cafe, an American/Southern home cooking restaurant--tasty. We then met up with Elle, Otis, and Dan at Wazima, our Ethiopian vegetarian restaurant-cum-bar with a jukebox that the boys love (the Phil Collins album gets a lot of play when they're present). I did my civic duty by calling out a bum who tried to steal the bartender's tips left out on the bar. He told me to go f@*k myself, but the bartender/proprieter kicked him out. The rest of the night went smoothly with much laughing, and George and Otis sealed their drunken fates with Irish car bombs. This yielded a very loud and bleary-eyed Otis and a ridiculously sleepy George.
Today we returned to the Frolf course, my first outing with my right hand since my injury/surgery. I averaged a double bogey on each hole. Lovely.
The Steelers are breaking my heart these past weeks. First, a treacherous victory over the Browns. Then an incredibly embarrassing loss to the FRIGGIN' JETS! The Jets? Fo' real? If the men of Black and Gold don't bring it on Monday night against the abysmal Dolphins, I will cry. I watched the Jets game at a non-Steeler bar, and the only other Steeler fans were women who'd brought their boyfriends! George had sneaked off to work (on a Sunday!) and was absent from Steeler Nation-by-girlfriend.
A few weeks ago, Otis' brother Silas was in town for work, and one weekend I accompanied them to Ocean Beach to take in some chilly sunshine while they surfed a bit. The two surfers wading in the distance are the Warren brothers clad in wetsuits.
Another day, the three of us went for a little city bike-ride. This photo is at the Cliff House.
Otis, Elle, George, and I enjoyed a Friday Thanksgiving meal since Otis had to work on Thursday. We played some Scrabble (I won both games--take that, George!), watched some Arrested Development, and generally goofed off. Elle and I cooked. I was responsible for the turkey, which came out quite dry. Bummer. I did, however, make a yummy apple pie.
Elle made a batch of amazing mulled cider, using these lovely spices.
The sunset view that evening from Otis and Elle's apartment was gorgeous.
George actually took Thursday off, and we were guests at two Thanksgiving dinners--one was my work friend's meal and the other was George's project manager's.
Last night, George and I dined with two of my co-residents, Kim and Aras, at the Blue Jay Cafe, an American/Southern home cooking restaurant--tasty. We then met up with Elle, Otis, and Dan at Wazima, our Ethiopian vegetarian restaurant-cum-bar with a jukebox that the boys love (the Phil Collins album gets a lot of play when they're present). I did my civic duty by calling out a bum who tried to steal the bartender's tips left out on the bar. He told me to go f@*k myself, but the bartender/proprieter kicked him out. The rest of the night went smoothly with much laughing, and George and Otis sealed their drunken fates with Irish car bombs. This yielded a very loud and bleary-eyed Otis and a ridiculously sleepy George.
Today we returned to the Frolf course, my first outing with my right hand since my injury/surgery. I averaged a double bogey on each hole. Lovely.
The Steelers are breaking my heart these past weeks. First, a treacherous victory over the Browns. Then an incredibly embarrassing loss to the FRIGGIN' JETS! The Jets? Fo' real? If the men of Black and Gold don't bring it on Monday night against the abysmal Dolphins, I will cry. I watched the Jets game at a non-Steeler bar, and the only other Steeler fans were women who'd brought their boyfriends! George had sneaked off to work (on a Sunday!) and was absent from Steeler Nation-by-girlfriend.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
By popular demand
My grandmother has expressed her dismay that I have not posted anything recently. So here goes: not much terribly interesting. I finished off my stint at the SF General and have started a rotation at Moffitt/Long (UCSF) as the (P)resident of the blood bank. It's not as glamorous as it may seem. I'm an information gopher and gatekeeper of the platelets. I hate platelets. And crossmatched platelets are the worst. I spend my days trying to convince clinicians that they shouldn't give platelets for reason X or send out for crossmatched platelets for reason Y. And no one really wants to hear resident putting a kabosh on their plans. So yeah. It's fun. Though today I did successfully convince a young, oh-so-timid intern that giving a patient a unit of platelets before sending her out the door "just to get her counts up" was not good practice. Oh, even the small victories are only semi-sweet, like Nestle Toll House Morsels. Not even. I keep having to remind myself that at least I don't have to hustle around like a real intern or (not) sleep in the hospital overnight. Things could be way worse.
Beyond my (P)residency, I have gotten back on the bike about once a week. It gets dark early now. I can now easily ride 45 or so miles and feel good about dragging myself up moderate hills. I went bowling last weekend and found that using my right hand, post-surgery, is no better that previous left-handed efforts. Still pretty weak--or just subconsciously guarding--in the wrist and shoulder girdle.
The Steelers rock! Go Steeler-men! I am now sporting Big Pappa Hampton's jersey at the Steeler bar. Last week I went by myself, and the tenuous Browns' game was a three-nail biter.
I watched "Friends With Money" the other night. For all its self-absorption, I thought it was really well done.
I apologize for the lack of pictures. I will put my camera back in my bag for on-the-spot candids.
Beyond my (P)residency, I have gotten back on the bike about once a week. It gets dark early now. I can now easily ride 45 or so miles and feel good about dragging myself up moderate hills. I went bowling last weekend and found that using my right hand, post-surgery, is no better that previous left-handed efforts. Still pretty weak--or just subconsciously guarding--in the wrist and shoulder girdle.
The Steelers rock! Go Steeler-men! I am now sporting Big Pappa Hampton's jersey at the Steeler bar. Last week I went by myself, and the tenuous Browns' game was a three-nail biter.
I watched "Friends With Money" the other night. For all its self-absorption, I thought it was really well done.
I apologize for the lack of pictures. I will put my camera back in my bag for on-the-spot candids.
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