ebrookeb's Journal

Another day, another echo DVD

I am currently taking a "meeting week" in which I was originally scheduled to go to San Diego, but due to a few ill-timed contractions, it was decided I'd best keep my pregnant butt at home. However, I have the DVD's of all the lectures at the meeting (a review of transesophageal echo for my upcoming board in May), so it was suggested by my superiors that I go ahead and take the week off anyway, and use it to study. So that's what I'm doing. It works out well that the husband is in Peru, so I have no distractions. Not that ANYTHING could tear me away from the riveting lecture series, boasting such wonderful titles as "knobology" and a "review of cardiac anatomy with TEE correlation".
Some of my friends are giving me a baby shower this weekend, which is extremely nice of them. However, when sending out the invitations, they somehow neglected to put my name (first or last) anywhere on the card, which means I've been calling people over the last few days saying -- you know that shower invitation you got? It's for me. Which is kind of uncomfortable, because I feel like I'm saying -- "you're coming to the shower right? Right? Which is also like saying "you're buying me a gift, right?" So it makes me feel bad.
in other news, well, I guess I have no other news. My husband just called and I got to talk to him for the first time since he got to Ica, and apparently he's having a terrific and exciting time. Bastard.

Current Mood: lethargic

My husband left on friday for Peru. I'm 8 months pregnant. I'm going to say that one more time. My husband left on friday for Peru, and I'm 8 months pregnant. The italics, in this case, are to denote bitterness. Unfortunately for me, I can't even really be truly upset because (a) he asked how I'd feel about it before signing up for the trip, and (b) He's going to be doing surgery on little underpriveleged Peruvian kiddos with club feet and scoliosis and things, so being angry that he's not there to make me a cup of hot tea in the evening and listen to me whine sounds just a tad shallow and self-centered. Having said all that, however, My husband left for Peru and I'm 8 months pregant. Hmmph. I may have the baby this week just to spite him.

In other news, I received the baby blanket from the lovely and talented edhed , and it is truly a thing of beauty, and quite soft and cuddly. I'm sure the boy is going to thoroughly enjoy sleeping/eating/peeing/puking on it.

My father is now working on the dresser/changing table for the baby's room, which brings us to the baby controversey of the week, namely, what type of drawer pulls to put on said dresser. My parents are for some reason wigging out over the drawer pulls. My mother has called me no less than 3 times and emailed me once to remind me to send her a link to the type of drawer pull I want, because my father has found these drawer pulls that he likes that are (gasp!) FOURTEEN DOLLARS A PIECE, and they don't even GO with the DECOR of the ROOM, according to my mother. Thus, obviously, an intervention is in order, and rather than tackling my father on the way to the computer and jamming a syringe full of haldol in his thigh to prevent him from ordering said drawer pulls, we must buy different drawer pulls IMMEDIATELY, so that he doesn't have the chance to fritter away his retirement on hand painted ceramic stars. The drama. It's everywhere.

Current Mood: lonely
Current Music: the sound of silence

yeesh!
Well, here I am, home from work and it's not even 4:00 in the afternoon. I'm on call though, so that could change at any moment.
We are going to put our house on the market tomorrow -- the realtor finalized everything with us yesterday. This means that we will have to have the house looking decent AT ALL TIMES. Those of you that know me know that this is no mean feat. I mean, come ON, we're RESIDENTS. It's a wonder the dogs get fed. And now we have to water the plants, too? Hopefully we can show the house and someone will want to snatch it up in the first week, but I'm doubtful, seeing as how we live in an area populated by residents, and match day isn't until March the 16th.
We're going to miss this house. It's roomy. It's been good to us. It makes me a little sad to think of leaving it. Of course, it may just be that I'm a little stressed, because I'm pregnant and hormonal, and because we have NO IDEA WHERE THE FUCK WE WILL BE LIVING come July. Thank you, esteemed members of the U.S. Air Force, for being SOOOO forthcoming with the assignment information. (I figure I can still say "fuck" because the baby isn't yet born, so I'm not yet forced to abide by any mom rules.)
Also, it makes it a touch tricky to look for a job when you're not exactly sure in which country you'll be residing. But hey! Who needs work! I'll just, you know, stay home and let the hundreds of thousands of dollars in accrued debt from medical school pile on up. We should manage to climb our way out of the hole by the time the baby's KIDS are in college.
I just tried to make my self feel better by singing "always look on the bright side of life (dee dee, dee dee dee dee dee dee...)", and the baby kicked the crap out of me, right under the ribs. Perhaps I was a little off key....

Current Mood: worried

So my parents came in town this past weekend to help get the house ready to put on the market, and also to fix up the nursery so it look nice and baby like. My father, I must admit, has done an excellent job making the crib and cradle. They will truly be an heirloom. Those of you that know my father and my relationship with him know that high praise from me is rare indeed. He is now making the changing table/dresser combination, which hopefully will look just as classy. We chose a bedding set called Starry Night, which is a kind of Noah's ark/safari/moon and stars amalgam, and we painted the walls of the nursery a color called "endless sky", which is a fancy way of saying "baby blue" in my opinion.

The only row we had this weekend was over television. Dad has decided that since mom is moving in and he will be here quite a lot until the end of June when we move to God-Knows-Where, he NEEDS TV. He HAS to watch SPORTS. Now, it's not that I'm utterly opposed to television. I just don't think we need it, especially because he wants to get the dish which requires a year contract and we won't even be here for that long. We tried to compromise by getting a television with a DVD player that they could watch in their room, thereby satisfying the craving for moving-picture entertainment, but since it doesn't receive any channels at all that's not good enough. He insists on haven't honest to goodness real-live television so that he can watch monday night football etc etc etc. Methinks he will win the argument because I am weak and he has money and he will just contract for it when I'm not at home. (I caught him trying to do it this weekend, but he didn't have the right information. HA!) So now, after 5 years living in this house without television, we are going to have to cave and get it for the last 4 months, just in time for the kid to be exposed to all of its evils. It's the devil's minion, I tell ya.

Current Mood: accomplished
Current Music: marc cohn -- burning the daze

home again...

Well, There I was, all happy and excited like because it was 6:00 am on Tuesday and I was officially off the 12 day call stretch. Then the totally unthinkable happened: my co-fellow (and the only other person with whom I share call) got Montezuma's revenge on the last day of her Belize vacation and ended up being violently ill and not coming to work. So back on call I was. And, of course, we got a call from the cardiac cath lab about a guy who needed a bypass right then, at 6:00 in the evening, just as we were finishing our other cases. So to make a long boring story short, I got home sometime after midnight, back to work at 5:45, and now I'm home again, and tired. And my feet hurt. And I'm on call tonight. And tomorrow night too. (But I have the weekend off!!!!)

In other news, I went to my OB appointment, and had some really shocking news: The baby is big. Go figure. We established that a few days ago. And before anyone asks, my glucose tolerance test was totally fine. I think it may have a teensy bit to do with the genes. My 6'5'' husband, my 6'9'' brother, etc etc. But the doc wants to do a growth scan at 34 weeks to check the progress, basically to decided whether I want to just throw in the towel before the game even starts and schedule an elective C-section due to the monstrous hugeness of my child. That will be ultrasound number 17, if anyone's counting.

I need a massage. And a martini. Neither of which will be coming my way in the near future.

Current Mood: sleepy

it's lunacy, I tell ya...
So I've been having the dreaded pregnancy reflux for the last couple of weeks. I remember working in the ER as an intern, and these people would come in going "Oh my GOD! I'm having a heart attack! I can't stand the PAIN!!!!!" (five exclamation points worth of screaming. Seriously.) And you would do all this workup and think they're going to crash and burn on you right there, and then 5 hours later they're like -- "Oh yeah, feeling a lot better -- guess it was just a bad case of reflux"
And I'm thinking -- "what the hell man? What a total wuss you are!"

Now I know how those people felt. And my husband knows how I felt back then, because I'm walking around the house going "I can't stand the PAIN!" (only one exclamation point though-- I may be a wuss, but not a histrionic wuss. Very often.)

So I took some milk of magnesia to stem the tide of esophageal erosion. And this is what I find interesting. The stuff is peppermint flavored. Peppermint. I know very few things anymore about the ins and outs of the GI system (no pun intended), but I do know that one of the major things you are supposed to avoid if you have reflux is ... peppermint. So what gives? And by the way, it still tastes horrible.

I have a dream...

How many LJ entries do you suppose start that way on MLK weekend? Methinks a fair few. I love going with the mainstream and being totally obvious.

So far, the MLK weekend has been OK. I have been on call, and as of yet have not gotten called in to do anything. I cannot be overly happy or optimistic, or use any phrase such as "hopefully my pager won't go off" or "It'll probably stay quiet" because the pager gods, they read these things, you know, and they're all about sticking it to you when you least expect it. They live for that crap. So at this juncture I am only allowed to state the facts. I have not yet gone into work this weekend. My call officially ends on Tuesday morning at 6:00 am. Well, until Wednesday at 6:00 am, when I'm on call again.

Shawn and I have been spending our free time this weekend trying to clean out our house to get ready to put it on the market. (And also to make room for the baby, who, by the way, is already HUGE by the last ultrasound report. He was supposed to be about 2.5 pounds and he's already weghing in at 3.2 as of Friday. This news was met with a teensy bit of trepidation by yours truly. Here's hoping the water breaks at 37 weeks and not at 41 or something crazy like that.) Shawn is trying very hard to get us to get rid of lots and lots of clothing, using the excuse that, as of July, he will be wearing a blue uniform every day for the next 4 years, and that I will, for the most part be in scrubs, just like now. The issue I have is that I can't fit into ANYTHING that I own right now unless it is made by motherhood maternity, thus I do not appear to have a reliable barometer for what clothing might be reasonably useful to me at a later date. Still though, I figured the sweaters I wore in high school may be good candidates for the Salvation Army. Of course, we also don't know yet where the good Ol' Air Force will be sending us, and knowing my luck it'll be Alaska, and I'll be begging for those bulky, oversized, completely untrendy sweaters inside a year's time.

This time of year is the time that we usually start getting the phone calls. And sure enough, one popped up this weekend. You see, every year, we have people that are moving stuff into and out of their houses, especially come summer when the residency year ends. It is at that time people remember that they once met this big guy who might be willing to help them move. This weekend it was a pretty good friend of ours who called, so no big deal, Shawn went over and helped move all the stuff out of his house onto the truck and he was done in like 2 hours. But many times, we get calls from people from whom we've had little contact in the last, I don't know, DECADE. Usually we get an answering machine message like "hey guys! It's so and so! Long time man! Just wondering what you guys were up to this weekend, thought may be you'd like to come buy and we could grab some dinner and catch a movie or something. Oh, and move my piano. It shouldn't take that long...."

But hey this is what I signed up for, marrying a 280 lb powerlifter. He just considers it more training. They should repay us in protein powder.

Current Mood: it's the heartburn. It kills

Happy Friday the 13th.

I was at dinner with a few friends last night and we were talking about how, though non of us are extremely superstitious, all of us go to work with a slightly higher than usual amount of trepidation on friday the 13th. I had forgotten about this conversation (and also the date today) by the time I woke up this morning.

And my day proceeded thusly:

5:55: I wake up, and realize my 5:30 alarm did not go off.

6:15: I go to work, as usual, and forget that I have a lecture for which I haven't read which starts at 6:30 instead of the normal 6:45 time.

6:27: I run by the patient holding area, hoping my residents have been able to put lines in by themselves (which they usually can handle), only to find that they are having difficulty, so I now have approx. 2 1/2 minutes to place the arterial line in my patient before my lecture starts. I place the line.

6:30 I sprint to lecture (well, as close to sprinting as someone who is 7 months pregnant can manage, anyway). 7:18 lecture runs over, giving me -3 minutes to get the patient to the OR.

7:20 The patient rolls into the OR, we now must await the surgeon to do a confirmatory "time out" prior to induction of anesthesia. This is to prevent wrong site surgery, like operating on the wrong leg or arm. You know, because this guy is scheduled to have a heart operation. It would be horrible if the surgeon accidentally operated on his OTHER heart.

7:30 surgeon shows up, case starts yada yada yada. Lots of running around and general work ensues

9:55 we finally go on bypass. Ah, now I can leave my resident, get a drink, relax for a few minutes, while the heart-lung machine essentially does my job for me.

9:57 get the call from the ICU -- roll back horrific badness coming to the OR involving a lady, her aorta, and a really big hole.

10:05-2:30 I spend the next several hours with the lady and her aorta and the hole, until 2:30 in the afternoon, when we bring her back to the ICU, and she is pronounced dead 12 minutes after arriving.

2:55 I eat some tuna and a mandarin orange for lunch.

Nexy friday the 13th I am definitely calling in sick.

Current Mood: depressed

Ha! I'm writing something. Feel free to skip it.

Hi.
I've decided to once again try the journal thing, rather than just looking at what everybody else writes and occasionally commenting. Hello to edhed ,miteman, and kingwamba , if you're out there. Glad to know you all are doing so well. I figured since I'm finishing my training this year and also having a baby, it might be a good time to start chronicling a little bit of my life, once in a awhile.

Today I got to sleep in, sort of. I was supposed to be at work, but I got called in last night at 8:00 for a heart transplant, and I didn't get home until 5:30 am, which kind of absolves me of having to be back there until sometime after 3:00 pm today (which is now, actually, but I'm not moving until my pager goes off). God willing, the CT team will stay quiet for the rest of the night and I can stay in my jammies, which are the only clothes I'm comfortable in right now. I'm on call for the next 9 days straight, as my cofellow is in Belize soaking up the sun and fly-fishing. If she wasn't one of the sweetest people ever I'd be hating her guts right now.

Oh, and I thought OR scrubs would be a blessing the farther along in pregnancy I got. But see, there's this evil little twist. As the belly expands, the draw string tie at the wasit starts to migrate down, so that it sits under the belly, in a very low-rise fashion, causing your pants to try to fall off several times a day, often when you have your hands completely full. If you tie them under the belly to begin with, you can never get a tight enough cinch, and they just have less distance to travel when they decide to migrate. I'm considering suspenders.

Current Mood: blah

cough,cough
Dear cyber-people.
I am at home now after a reasonably good day at work, but I woke up this morning with a sore throat and a fever and I felt kind of bad the entire time. No major drama, though. Except for this one lady. I wanted to strangle her. She was having a big belly surgery, and the surgeon asked me to put in a thoracic epidural, which, incidentally, I would recommend for anyone having a big belly surgery. So I go to talk to her about it, and she doesn't know if she wants it. So I talk to her some more, and she still doesn't know. So I tell her that ultimately it's her decision, and I'm just trying to offer options for post-op pain control, and her surgeon was in favor of her having it, and the risks and benefits, blah blah blah. 20 minutes go by while I"m discussing this with her.
She opts not to have it.
Fine.
So I decide to do this narcotic infusion thing with this expensive medicine that works well for post-op pain control, at least for a little while.
So I crack the vial of medicine, dilute it, set up a drip. blah blah blah.
Then she gets to the OR room, and is on the table, ready to go to sleep. In walks the surgeon. I say, Ms. so-and-so opted not to have a thoracic epidural placed. He says "fine". The patient says "well, Dr. Surgeon, do you think it might be a good idea?" As if I had never, in fact, spent the 20 minutes discussing this with her and explaining that her surgeon requested that I speak to her about it. He, of course, says "yes, I do think it would be a good idea". She then says, "Oh, OK then. I'll get it". So now, out with the really expensive medicine which is now wasted. Now I must set up for a thoracic epidural and do that, with other expensive medicine.
See why the cost of health care is rising in this country???
At least it worked well.
But I sure felt guilty about wasting all that medicine.
Wow. My life is astoundingly boring.
See Ed? This is why I don't post. I have nothing of worth to say.

Current Mood: tired
Current Music: John Mayer

I'm trying this thing again
OK, so I haven't posted here in a million years, but I'm trying to keep in touch more with friends, so I decided I should use this medium more often.

Mu husbands birthday is tomorrow, which means we have spent the w/e eating vast amounts of food that is very bad for you, and we have no intention of stopping. I wanted to have our friends in a cook a huge meal, but Shawn thinks that I am incapable of cooking for more than 2 people without using every pot in the kitchen, and he didn't want to spend the rest of the weekend doing dishes. Also, we haven't actually taken our Christmas tree down yet, which could be slightly embarrassing, but I was just going to put a party hat on top of it and call it a Birthday tree. After all, it isn't every year you turn the big 3-8.

Shawn got a juicer for his birthday (at his request), and I got an ice cream maker for Christmas (at my request), and so we are going to spend the day making juice and ice cream. And taking down the Christmas tree.

I tell you, the fun never ends on this plucky little island we call home.

Current Mood: calm
Current Music: Los Lonely Boys

I'm now on vacation
OK, so I haven't written here in months. But now I am on vacation, so I have some time, and I can write about my pathetic boring life. My hubby was supposed to be in florida this week for a conference, which got canceled thanks to Ivan. I was going to have a week here by myself, seeing friends and taking road trips and whatnot, but now he's here (although working every day), so instead I'm home doing housewifey things and cooking a whole lot, because it's something I don't get to do very often anymore, and I really enjoy it. Unfortunately, I also got two deep second degree burns and I sliced through my thumbnail. I guess that comes with being out of practice in the kitchen. My husband is not sure I'm going to survive the vacation. On the up side, I am going to see Sting (aka the love of my life) in San Antonio on Friday. A good time should be had.
Lets see. In other news, I had a miscarriage, found out I'm hypothyroid, and got started on replacement.
Oh, and two days ago Shawn watched Once upon a time in Mexico and I cooked Puerco Pibil, the Johnny Depp characters leitmotif in the movie. It was pretty good. However, I made the achiote paste with only one habanero and one jalapeno instead of two habaneros. I think it could have used the second habanero, and i'm kind wimpy about stuff like that. I have a banana tree in my yard, so I went out and cut off some leaves in which to roast the pork. I served it with black bean cakes, and rice, and fried plantains, and mango salsa. Oh, and I made corn, jalapeno and cheddar tamales for appetizers. A word of caution for the home cook. NEVER try to make tamales unless you have several hours and would like to be repeatedly frustrated. Making the masa harina and the filling wasn't bad, but getting it all into those damned corn husks was crazy. They turned out OK though. I served tres leches cake for dessert.
Last night I made chicken with 40 cloves of garlic, and haricot verts, and smoked cheddar and mustard mashed potatoes, and pears poached in port with mascarpone cheese. I roasted the chicken in clay and it came out quite juicy. The roasted garlic was terrific on french bread. See, this is what I do when I'm not a work. I make a huge mess in the kitchen.
Oh, and on Saturday I made another pork roast, but this one I slow simmered with garlic and lemon in milk. It's a tuscan dish called arrista con leche. I liked it batter than the pibil. Both were tender, but this was juicier, and didn't even need sauce. I served it with pureed sweet dumpling squash served in their shells, and potatoes roasted in duck fat, which were also quite nice, and a green salad with pan seared pecan crusted buffalo mozzarella, and molten chocolate cake for dessert. We had a La crema pinot noir with the meal, which was quite nice.
That about does it for this blog. I think that's plenty.

Current Mood: lazy

how hot does it get in hell?
OK, so I got home from a long day of work on Thursday at 6:30 pm. Plan was to get a quick workout in and then meet friends at a mexican restaurant for a graduation party (sadly, not for me). Husband was on call and not available. So I walk into my home, and instead of being greeted by my ehuberant dogs, I am greeted by a whoosh of blasting-ly hot air. I take a look at the thermostat (one of those digital, save money by programming your temperature jobs), and it reads 97 degrees. IN MY HOUSE. 97. Incidentally, it is also set on cool and the fan is blowing hot air like crazy. My dogs have by this time come in from outside and are laying on their sides on the ceramic tile, hyperventilating.

So I call an ac repair man who doesn't charge overtime, and is licensed and bonded etc etc etc, and he gets to my house around 8:00 (so much for the workout). He then tells me the AC is shot, and I need a new one. For all I know, it needs more freon, but how the hell can I tell? SO I am forced to believe him. He then explains that he can out a new one in for me, tonight, for 1000 dollars IN CASH.
Now normally I would have probably just said I'll deal with this tomorrow and gone to a friend's house and let all of my computer stuff melt, but I was worried about my dogs. To make a long story short, the new AC was installed at 11:00 pm, so much for the graduation party. But by that time I was so hot and tired and ready to sleep that I could have married either one of those extortionate ac repair guys, just for making cold air come from my vents.
I got to bed about 1:00 am, and I was on call the next day in the ICU.
And I'm pretty sure all of my wine is ruined, but I can't drink it to check, being pregnant and all.
So that about sums it up for my really really crappy day on thursday into friday.
By the way, does anyone know what the plans are for the Harry Potter kids and the next movies? I keep hearing rumors that they are going to change, and I am totally out of the loop on this stuff, except that I've read all the books and seen the movies an stuff, and I think they cast them pretty well, but they are looking a bit old.
TTFN

So here I am at 6:45 in the morning. I tried to sleep late and this is how far I got. I have to go to work tomorrow and be on call all night, and I can guarantee you that I will not be awakening spontaneously and springing into action at 6:00 am. Sometimes life can be so cruel. Oh well, at least I'll have plenty of Sunday to enjoy.

Hubby has promised me that today I get to go to baby world to try to figure out all of the things I am supposed to be getting for this kid, our first. It's not like we don't have 7 more months to do this, but there's no guarantee we will both have a w/e off at the same time in the ensuing months, so we better get started early. We won't be buying anything of course, but at least I can get a sense of scope and purpose. That's what I told him, anyway. Really I want to go because Babyland is right next to the mall, which has an Arby's in it, and for some wierd pregnant reason, I'm really craving Arby's. But I can't exactly ask said husband to drive for 30 minutes to get me an Arby's sandwhich. I guess I could, but he would say no.

My folks come back from a trip to Scotland and England today (the lucky bastards), so I'm sure I'll get the call this evening to hear all about their wonderful time in the british isles. I love my mother dearly, but she cracks me up because whenever she goes somewhere, she always tries to adopt the slang of that place -- not with an accent or anything, but I'll get these emails from her like "Just hopped off the tube at Charing cross and wanted to write you a note before we have a cuppa down the road from our hotel..." Mom's from West VA. Not exactly a direct descendant of the Windsors here. But she's having fun, which is the important thing. At least she's staying away from cockney rhyming slang for the moment. God love her.

Well, that's enough for the early am mindless drivel. Time for tea.

P.S. another pic -- this is of Julius and Oliver, my other mutt. (I have no idea what he is, but he sure is cute!) They were both strays. Who could say no to faces like those??

i'm trying the picture thing
hopefully, along with this post there will be a picture of my dog Julius. He is a boxer mix and the sweetest boy in all the world. wattaface!!!

Current Mood: lazy

Ahh, a weekend off
Hello and thanks to everyone who bothered to read the first journal entry. Still getting the hang of this thing, so my apologies if I'm not very good at LJ etiquette yet. Today is Saturday, and I actually have the weekend off, which is wonderful. Last night I decided I was hungry for a steak, so me and the hubby went out to eat. The problem was that said hubby was also very hungry, and that man can eat a TON. So before I got my steak we had to get the calamari, and a caesar salad, and the lobster bisque, so by the time I got to my steak I wasn't really hungry anymore and Shawn (the hubby) ended up eating most of it. I wouldn't let him order dessert after that. Tonight we are supposed to go to this anesthesiology end of year party and say goodbye to all the lucky bastards who are graduating. I hate going to those things. I'm tempted to skip it, but I've told so many people that I'm tempted to skip it I'm afraid that now people are going to be looking for me.
I saw Pres. W give his eulogy at the Ronald Reagan funeral online this am (I don't have a TV so I'm always a few days late in getting these things). I have to admit that I think his speech-writer did a pretty good job. However, I have to say that despite what I'm sure has been at least 4 years of intensive training in the public speaking arena, W still sucks at it. I'ts like someone has told him over and over "you need to pause for effect", so now he sounds like freaking Captain Kirk. It is so ironic that he is giving the eulogy of a man who had to be one of the best public speakers of our time. Whether you agreed with Reagan or not, you had to give him that.
OK, that's enough meandering through my psyche for one morning. Hope all is well with everyone, as soon as I figure out how to do the picture thing and the friend thing I will. I'm really slow at this sort of thing.

TA DAA!!!!!!!
So, here it is. My very first post on my very first blog. And all thanks to EdenB, one of my oldest and dearest and zaniest friends. Unfortunately, I am totally computer illiterate and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing here.
Today was not a bad day. I got to leave work early (which is a real rarity in my field), because I had an ultrasound (I am 9 weeks pregnant), and there was nothing much going on in the unit (I am on my SICU rotation right now), and I'm not on call until NEXT WEEK, which is terrific. The ultrasound went fine, and everything looks good, so it was a happy day for all. Additionally, I treated myself to a pastrami sandwich from Sunflower Bakery post ultrasound. I have to say that I think the best pastrami sandwiches I have ever tasted have come from Sunflower Bakery. This however may not be saying much, because I have spent the majority of my adult life in Texas, and I must admit that whilst Texas is known for many things, an excellent kosher deli is hard to come by, thus one may consider my past experiences regarding pastrami sandwiches to be somewhat limited. The dogs sure did like the leftovers, though.
Tonight I have to stay home and wait for one of my friends to finish a meeting, because is car is in the shop, and he needs a ride home. Not a big deal except that it is raining cats and dogs and he lives on the polar opposite side of the island (Galveston), and by the time we get there his road will probably be washed out and he will have to come back to my house for the duration. And do you know why I have to suffer this? Because he bought a HumVee. Not one of those new H2 jobs, but the real thing. The scary-ass ugly, 8 mpg, useless unless you want to go careening down the side of a rain forest kind of car. I should make him walk home on principle alone.
Well, that's it for blog number one. Sorry it's so long. I'm kind of a stream-of-conscious kind of writer. Adios.

Current Mood: nauseated