Pictures with Words

It's been a while since I've updated Bloggoville with any regularly. Part of me hasn't felt like it. The other part was staying up too late and getting up too early to prevent my ever-growing mountain of work from consuming me like a big, green monster. Luckily, I'm learning more about where my career is going (and where it's not going) and on which projects I should truly focus. Or delegate. Or strategically procrastinate on because I'm not feeling it or not sold on the business purpose behind such projects.

Do you like that term, "strategically procrastinate?"

It's almost as good as saying Costco stores are the "cathedrals of consumerism."

[haha, right?]

So while work's been work and I continue to juggle a dozen beach balls, I have a better sense of where I'm headed. This is good. While I've been surfing the waves of conflict and stress, Jack's been keeping busy in the kitchen (while making me fat).

After we finished Mom's lamb cake from Easter,

Jack bought a couple packages of Puff Pastry. It's more like, "Puff the Magic Pastry." He made fruit tarts and the glistening finish comes from warm apricot jam that sets the fruit in place.

When Jack finished the tarts, he handed them to me on top of my latest HBR that had just arrived in the mail.

Which I thought looked hilarious. Steve Jobs points at the tarts.


Later that day, Jack whipped up a tailgate dream: Manwich and cheddar-stuffed Puff pastry.

Our day of Puff was amazing. Until we realized that puff pastry is 98% butter and each bite packs about 100 calories.

***************

While my fat settled, I returned to the treadmill of work and attended another Franciscan Leadership retreat last weekend. Quickly praying to God for a sign about my career, I slowly drove up the convent grounds and came face-to-face (face-to-car?) with the chairperson of our system's board, standing in the middle of the road.

God usually doesn't answer me like that. "God, can I have a sign?" "BOOM, here's a sign."

Except that I realized the chairperson was practicing her turkey calls, communicating with a broad (flock?) of turkeys on the hillside.

Hmm. Maybe I'm the turkey.

The retreat was INTENSE and one of our instructors, a professor from Harvard, graced us with 12 hours of upper-level Ecclesiology and the formation of doctrine and dogma. The retreat participants struggled through the material and my geeky self was in theological hog heaven with all the talk of the Magisterium's authority and infallibility.

[Just post an "L" on my forehead!]

However, I worked too late before leaving the night before the retreat and was in severe danger of being late to the convent. One must arrive before 9 p.m. or face being locked out of the grounds. I didn't have time to stop on the highway for a quick burger; I arrived at 8:58 p.m. that evening, sighing with relief and shaking with hunger.

In my room, rifling through my bags for any hint of nutrition, I stumbled upon a little bag of peanuts from Southwest Airlines the last time I used my luggage in January.

Hey, that 1 oz bag of nuts stabilized my blood sugar and shut my stomach up enough to sleep.

*************

Returning to the treadmill again, I resumed my discernment struggles and stress. Because of the retreat and family stuff, I completely forgot about the management bakesale sponsored by the hospital's leadership on Tuesday. Late Monday evening, I ran to a nearby gourmet bakery and picked up $20 worth of cookies for the bakesale.

I know, it's the epitome of sad laziness. But I do try to honor my word, even if it means a stash of storebought goodies. And my laziness did not stop me from digging into the box on my drive home:

Tuesday was rough. Rough enough that when I finally got into my car at 8:30 pm, I found this "card" from Jack, who snuck into my car mid-day to leave it for me:

And when I got home, I found a box on my porch. I looked closer and noticed it was from Lush. I thought to myself, "wow, did I order Lush in my sleep again?" Nope, it was my dear, amazing, wonderful, generous, friend, Nurse Starbucks, surprising me with a whole box of fun and smelly Lush stuff.

Between Nurse Starbucks' and Jack's gestures and three employees individually seeking me out to thank me for my work, I somehow made it through the week.

Plus, we cracked open a bottle of this last night:

It's a great feeling to survive a couple weeks like these and kick back with your hubby on a Friday night...just to conk out cold at 8:30, without even having finished your Manhattan!

Oh well, there's always next Friday night!

I'm grateful for my opportunities, my friends, and Jack. Thank you for getting me through this time (and for not yelling at me for buying store bought cookies!!)

This Soup's For You

Travel season is over! I'll write about that later- I am still percolating the knowledge and experiences I acquired in Boca Raton, trying to let my soul catch up and the muddy waters settle to make sense out of the week.

But since Daylight Savings Time ended last night, my seasonal affect disorder is in full effect today. I glanced up from my laptop, noticed the shadows of dusk in the living room and my body thought it was 6:30. It was 4 p.m. Ugh!

We landed last night at 8pm from Fort Lauderdale (in shorts and sandals, I might add) and immediately turned all our clocks back an hour...watches, car clocks, clocks at home, etc. In our extra hour of relaxation, we ordered a pizza.

Boca is a five-star, old money, wonderful place. But they don't have Chicagoan pizza.

I quickly went unconscious on the couch and awoke to Jack trying to walk me, zombie style, to bed. I slept 12 hours without moving. I had not had a good night's sleep in at least two weeks and wouldn't have cared if a mouse ran across my face.

WAIT, I take that back. Please don't let mice free in my house! Or spiders. EEEK! One of my friends gave her son a dropper full of medicine today, for his ear infection. As her son took the dropper's liquid, she saw a little spider, trying to force its way out of the dropper to save its life. Um, yeah. I guess we *do* eat eight spiders in our sleep. That toddler almost ate a spider while he was AWAKE!

Anyway, Jack and I worked all day today, trying to dig out from the piles of work. While we toiled, Jack brewed a tremendous vat of beef barley soup (secret ingredient- cloves). On the plane last night, we shared recipes with the woman next to me who works at a competitor hospital. She looked like an ICU nurse. I asked her what she does for a living and she answered, "I'm an ICU nurse."

BINGO.

That was her secret ingredient, not ours. Intrigued, we tried it and it's fabulous.

We always make soup on Sunday's. It's our tradition. So far this soup season, we've made chicken soup, ham and bean soup, chili, beef barley, and ham and potato. Next week is creamy red pepper soup, courtesy of my competitor ICU nurse!

Here's to an impending winter, lots of soup, and a quickly-fading tan. And please pray for me around 1pm Eastern on Wednesday!

Twist My Arm...

...All the way to Sin City.

Last Friday night, we dined with friends from work at Coopershawk (yes, again). These friends are wonderful, with witty humor, hilarious stories, and share a Christian faith that rivals the friars. Good times seem to follow them. I laughed so hard my face hurt. Those types of evenings replenish even the emptiest tanks. My tanks were empty from teaching a class on Friday, doing leader rounding on patients (where you get to go "check on them" and see how things really are. I always ask the patients, "So how are we treating you?"), and process mapping our hellacious physician recruitment process (that took six execs and two Lean experts a total of three hours to master), I seriously wanted to bail on dinner and just go home to my pj's and frozen pizza. My friend (I'll call her Mary) wouldn't let me bail. She flat-out refused and told me that if I bailed, she'd just show up at my house with a bag of food and bottle of wine, so I might as well just go. Friends who threaten you like that are awesome and I think I need more of them!

Anyway, I'm glad I went. We invited the men this time and our monthly "directors' meeting" turned into a four-hour dinner with awesome friends.

More importantly, Mary is traveling to Vegas in a couple weeks for a conference and she told me she has an empty room in her suite in the Paris hotel. She wants company, I have a ton of PTO, and she told me I need to sit by the pool and catch up on my reading while she's at the conference. Then I can join her for networking and the vendor fair if I want to. Seriously? The best of both worlds and it's next to free? Dude. Count me in. Why not?

When people ask me how I am, I have a hard time not responding, "blessed."

'Cuz that's what I am.

Vacation- The Food Edition

Well, I'm in this strange middle ground of complete relaxation and an anxiousness to return to my usual routine of craziness. What can I say, I'm a glutton for punishment.

Anyway, Jack and I enjoyed a LOVELY long weekend away these past five days. We left Wednesday morning and after battling scary Chi traffic, ended up on the backroads of southwestern Michigan. While we had plans of visiting Maui for our 10 year anniversary, it just made more sense to return to our roots and spend time at a B&B in Michigan, on the coast. We did that for our honeymoon; being penniless and young. Everyone thought we were "so cute" back then, when we scraped together enough money to pay for a few expensive nights at a kitschy B&B on the coast of Lake Michigan.

Oddly enough, we were *still* the youngest in the B&B and everyone *still* thought we were on our honeymoon! When approached by a few fellow B&B mates, Jack laughed when asked how our honeymoon was going. He explained that we have been married ten years and this was just a quick getaway from our frantic lives in Chicagoland. But, apparently, we still give off that honeymooner vibe, which I think is so very neat.

***These are the food-related stories from our trip!***

So we ambled up the coast highway to New Buffalo and realizing we were too early to check into our B&B, the Inn at Union Pier, we hit the nearest wine trail. Forgetting the close proximity of all the SW Michigan wineries, we made an afternoon out of wine tasting and eating. This was the view inside Round Barn Winery:



After tasting and purchasing our requisite bottle of wine, we headed for more familiar grounds, Tabor Hill:



Tabor Hill is my mother ship. It was the first kind of wine I ever loved and it ushered me into a whole world of demi-sec, Riesling, and chardonnay. Again, ironically, Jack and I visited Tabor Hill for our fourth anniversary. So we *had* to stay for some vino:



The glass on the left is Valvin Muscat and the glass on the right is Red Arrow Red. Both were excellent and served as wonderful precursors to the all-important dinner entrees:



Gourmet chocolates and tirimisu!



Taking home another few bottles of souvenir wine, we departed for our B&B. It was very cute, welcoming, warm, and inviting. But we decided to fight the fog and dreary day and head out to New Buffalo harbor. I grew up climbing the half mile of massive boulders marking the boat channel. This was even more fun as adults, having spent the afternoon sipping wine! But we made it to the end and no one pitched head-first into the churning waters below:



That night, we grabbed a quick burger at the New Buffalo hotspot, Redamaks. We retired to our B&B and dreamt of the gourmet breakfast that was to soon follow. That was the highlight of our B&B...the gourmet breakfasts every morning. We woke up to a fruit parfait and lemon and cream cheese-stuffed pancakes. The second day was an egg quiche with feta and sun dried tomatoes. It was just crazy- how do you even burn off that many calories from breakfast? Nonetheless, we took one for the team and polished off our wonderful eats.

For dinner on Night #2, we ate at Bentwood Tavern. We considered going to the steakhouse inside Four Winds Casino, but who wants to pay $85 for a steak?! Anyway, we split a seafood extravaganza and a single-person pizza topped with fresh mozzarella, prosciutto, and basil. Who *wouldn't* want pizza for their 10-year anniversary!? We kept it real!



Then on Friday night, we tried out the new GreenBush Brewery and neighboring Fitzgerald's. The brewery was good, but not as good as Bell's or Three Floyds.

As one last tribute to great food on the beach, Jack and I decided to forego the fancy dinners and pricey tabs on our last night. We instead opted to sit on the beach all the way through sunset. We quickly ordered a pizza from a nearby pizzeria and noshed during sunset, eliciting jealous stares from other beach goers ogling our oozing cheese and sausage pie. It was great- we were *those* people who sat on the beach all day and made it through until sunset. It's an accomplishment, after all.

I have a few more stories from our getaway, but Jack is back with our Sunday sushi and I will add another post soon.

Camp Stories

The moment you've all been waiting for, stories from FEMA Camp! I cannot tell you how many times I heard someone say, "This one time, at FEMA Camp..."

It *was* funny, if quite ridiculous!

So I left on Sunday morning and arrived in Atlanta just after noon. Then I caught a bus for the two-hour ride to Anniston, Alabama. It was HOT. And there were big bugs. Those are the two things I will remember most about 'Bama. But we did manage to have some fun along the way, at Fort McClellan, an Army base in the hills of 'Bama, the site of the Center for Domestic Preparedness.

On Sunday night, everything in the bustling metropolis of Anniston was closed. Everything, that is, except Walmart. So my new friend, Nurse Onomatopoeia, and I chartered a ride from base to Wally World in the hopes of some entertainment. The people watching was just as much fun as checking out the local Wally's merchandise:



I would have bought this shirt, but they were sold out. Seriously. So RN Onomatopoeia and I stocked up on our Alabama Crimson Tide t-shirts. I kept thinking it was the "Crimson Wave," not "Crimson Tide," but I was corrected. That would've been funnier had Alabama been a women's college. :) And I dubbed my friend "Nurse Onomatopoeia" because she had a sound effect for everything. An ER/Trauma nurse from Fort Worth, TX, she used sounds more than words for communicating.

On Monday, we were transported to Noble Army Hospital (busing to and from base), an out-of-commission hospital in which we were going to train. It felt official:



Security was TIGHT. Even though they check your badge against your photo ID when you leave base, they check it all AGAIN when you arrive at the hospital. What's going to happen? Spontaneous evolution of human life on the 4 minute bus ride? Regardless, it was probably one of the safest places to be this past week.

There were 60 administrators, RN's, EMS, and fire chiefs in our class. Day 1 consisted mostly of lecture. Nine hours of lecture. After that, we were desperate for some local culture (read: alcohol), so a group of us chartered a bus to a lovely, sophisticated dining establishment called Cooter Brown's. It redefined "hole in the wall."

Seating about 40 people (tops), this was the view from the minuscule loft:



Being total tourists, our group tried Alabama Slammers. The drinks were the color of river water but tasted like fruit punch. They were perfect to accompany the "tasty butts" Cooter's is known for:



It was simply the best BBQ I've ever had. The pork was smoky and the sauce spicy and tangy. However, it was the BBQ that never ended; regardless of how much I ate, my pile of pork BBQ never went down. It regenerated itself. Like *MAGIC* BBQ. Cooter's lived up to its hype, except when we were reclining after our feast, a cockroach scurried across the table. Making one of her characteristic sound effects (kind of like a crazy rooster), RN Onomatopoeia hailed the table's check in 3.78 seconds. Honestly, I wasn't that surprised, but one of the infection preventionists in our group started hyperventilating.

The next morning and four TUMS later, we returned to the hospital for more lecture. Then we did table-top exercises where you think through what you would do in Disaster A, B, or C. They split us up into groups, so we got to know several other folks.

That night, I returned to my room and JUST ABOUT finished my ethics paper. Yes, this is newsworthy.

The next day, day three, was our first simulation. We actually ran the Army hospital during a crisis. It was a terrorism explosion that turned into a nerve gas event with some anthrax thrown in. As hospital incident command, we had to supervise the decontamination of patients, treat the hazmat situation, accommodate hundreds of ER patients (using mass triage) and somehow work with public health to protect society. We ran and ran for 8 hours and everyone was zonked by the end.

That night, a spontaneous party erupted at the FEMA bar, with about 20 people from my class. There was an outdoor picnic area and everyone congregated to share tales from the day. Fueling this were the $1 draft imports in the FEMA bar subsidized by YOU. Your tax dollars at work!

It was interesting, though, because the whole experience was starting to remind me of college. Everything from the cinderblock dorm rooms to the shared bathrooms to the dining hall food with excellent entrees and even better desserts, it was just like college. Except that most people were married and the bizarre late-adolescent courtship rituals were not occurring, thankfully. This is a shot from the inside of FEMA bar. Even it reminded me of Senior Bar at Notre Dame:



Then on Day 4, the last day of training, we had to run the hospital again. This time, it was a bioterrorism attack with small pox. It was insanity and people really got into the exercise. Here is the administrative command post:



Here is the ER:



So the last night, we again congregated in the picnic area to share our gritty stories from the day. A few days ago, we didn't know each other at all; now we were good friends who survived anthrax and small pox and kamikaze terrorists. We swapped phone numbers and email addresses like kids exchanging friendship bracelets at camp, promising to keep in touch as penpals. It was a cross between camp and college and we all feel better prepared to manage our respective hospitals in a time of mass disaster.

The only hiccup during the trip was thanks to my Citibank credit card. I used it in the Alabama outback and when I tried to upgrade myself to business class for the return flight, it was denied. Turns out Citi didn't think I should have been in 'Bama, buying Crimson Wave t-shirts at Wally World! They said it was "outside my usual spending habits."

How funny. And true (as I adjust the Alabama baseball cap I'm wearing)!

Back to the real world and the 548 emails I have awaiting me. My ethics paper is 98%done, I paid off my student loan yesterday, and travel season has come to a close...I smell a party!

Pierogi Power

I'm resurrecting my resolution to keep the Sabbath holy and not work too much. I discovered last weekend, that if I actually avoid working on Sunday's, I (gasp) actually feel reasonably rested and refreshed for the week come Sunday night. So instead of working, I am choosing to honor the Sabbath by celebrating my Polish heritage and telling you about our flour-filled adventure last night.

[no, this is not the same as mud wrestling!]

Jack had it in his mind that he was going to make homemade pierogi (pronounced "pa-dug-eee"). Having been a part of pierogi-making several times, as my aunts converged to make a pierogi assembly line in my grandma's kitchen, I understand the stress and common mishaps that occur when one undertakes a difficult culinary challenge.

Pierogi are not easy to make. In fact, I have been conditioned to fear their mere existence by my aunts who only attempt the feat every few years. For it takes that long to get the flour out of the fine wood grain cracks in my aunt's floor!

Anyway, after honoring our time-honored tradition of attending church on Saturday night, we hit one of the gourmet grocery stores by our new house. We discovered a Fair Oaks Farms Butterkase cheese and a bottle of Vouvray (a French wine that is quickly becoming my most favorite). I was happy, while Jack messed up the pierogi, I could sit at the island and nibble on wine and cheese. Then I'd throw in the frozen pizza we keep stashed in the fridge, after he cleaned up his foiled attempt at pierogi!

So he started with Step 1: making your own cheese for the stuffing. He boiled a gallon of whole milk and then added juice freshly-squeezed from lemons. It curdled right up:



Strain with a cheesecloth, add some finely-chopped onion, salt and pepper, and VOILA! Pierogi stuffing. As we watched the cheese curdle, I kept thinking of the line from Monty Python and the Holy Grail: "Blessed are the Cheesemakers!"

Step 2 was to roll out the dough. Jack grunted and sweated his way through this rolling pin exercise to create properly-sized rounds of dough. The dough is the most difficult part; too soft and they fall apart, too hard and they come out like dumplings. I watched Jack attempt to multitask. At this point, memories of my Polish youth motivated me to leap off my barstool and start stuffing the dough. They weren't pretty, but you don't want them bursting open during the boiling process:



They then only need a few minutes in the boil. They emerge looking like this:



Ugly! I'll admit it, they're ugly!

Then it was time to fry 'em up. This process comes with an automatic referral to a Cardiologist, but that's why we only make these every few years. I fried them to a golden brown and we each hesitantly grabbed a few on a plate. Jack also made an antipasto plate with fresh Italian salami and the Butterkase. Add some Vouvray and some jazz, and, well, you get a mixing pot of cultures. :)

I bit into the first pierogi, uncertain of what to expect. My gastronomical bar is pretty high with pierogi and the whole cheese-making thing made me wonder if I was setting myself up for food poisoning.

It. Was. AMAZING. We matched the taste I remembered from my grandma's kitchen all those years ago. I gobbled up my Polish delicacy, hurriedly texting my aunts that we accomplished the impossible! Jack and I high-fived, celebrating our Polish lunacy!



So guess what's for dinner tonight? Leftovers! Round Two!

Guitars and Tiki Bars

I hear the wind howling outside, I'm wrapped up in a blanket, and my feet are cold. Yep, must be back in the Midwest!

Last weekend, Jack and I escaped to Florida for four days and relished our time in the 70-degrees-and-foggy beach town we love on Anna Maria Island. It was creepy foggy half the time, but that didn’t stop us from walking around in flip-flops, visiting our favorite haunts, and eating everything in sight. It's one of those places where the songs "Guitars and Tiki Bars" and "Mother Ocean" immediately start playing on 'repeat' in your head.



See? Creepy fog!

A few highlights from the trip:

*We were not able to access our condo before check-in (as we had the first 6 times we visited), so we lunched at Starfish (a hole in the wall that serves the best seafood in the world) and then drove around the island to waste time. The steady drumming of the rain lulled us into comas. We pulled over in the grocery store parking lot to decide our next course of action…and both accidentally fell asleep in the car. Yes, napped in the Publix parking lot! Now, please tell me that’s not newsworthy!

* Visiting our usual “Green Bay Packer Bar” for the Superbowl. We always visit this bar for its great beer, coconut shrimp, and live music and wondered what it would be like to see a GB game there. Lucky for us, GB won the ticket to the Superbowl and the Packer Bar did not disappoint. The owners passed around yellow and green jello shots every time GB scored.



*Watching a huge storm roll in off the Gulf, while eating shrimp broiled in beer (sounds gross, was completely yummy). We dined at The Sandbar, which offers sweeping, panoramic views of the Gulf. Plus, you dine with your feet in the sand.

*Eating homemade mahi mahi that Jack whipped up in our condo kitchen. Feeling bold, he dumped a couple of shots of rum into a healthy (I mean, heart-clogging) scoop of butter and created “Butter Rum Mahi Mahi.” One of our best meals to date, it will surely be re-created. Like, this weekend.

*Going *back* to Starfish, this time for blackened grouper. We took our “to go” boxes back to our condo and ate our lunch in the heavenly atmosphere of our deck overlooking the bay. That fish was like eating a baby angel.

*Sitting by the pool, relaxing by catching up on work reading and flipping aimlessly through people's Facebook updates on my phone (hey, sometimes that is relaxing!). I saw my former neighbor's update that they were on the Island! I couldn't believe the coincidence; when you escape to a quieter island and learn that one of your neighbors was a mere 2 miles away!

*On our very last day, the fog cleared and temperature soared to 76 degrees. Naturally, Jack had to physically drag me from the beach and back into the rental car for our return trip back to the airport.



The trip was wonderful and I love that we can slip away for a few days to our favorite beach escape. While the weather wasn’t ideal, I still emerged rested, relaxed, and two pounds heavier from all the great eats!

Normalcy

Hello 2011, goodbye 2010!

I tried several times to write a "summary of 2010" post, but I kept clearing the screen and starting over. I'm not sure what I want to remember from 2010. Usually, I'm the nostalgic type, who, when watching the ball drop in Times Square on New Year's Eve, surrounded by my family and/or friends, quickly reminisces over the past year and try to obtain full closure. I don't live with regret, rarely bask in my own successes, and really don't think worrying about the past is a good use of time. So I try to quickly say my goodbyes to the positives and negatives of the previous year and start over after the stroke of midnight. Each of us gets a new start today, to accomplish whatever is on the horizon.

At least that's how I usually look at New Year's Eve...an exciting culmination of a year and I wake up New Year's morning with optimism and thoughts on how I am going to position myself toward greater challenges and success.

This year was a bit different. While I've had a few tough years in my life, with family issues and deaths when I was younger, to my physical health issues a few years ago, I was actually very happy to see 2010 conclude. The year continued my loneliness and job-focused existence in Chicago and ushered in nine solid months of confusion, disarray, and chaos. Because of my hard work, I was offered a phenomenal job opportunity out here...but the price was high. We had to relocate, sell our first home, live in a teeny place, endure Jack's job uncertainty and unemployment, and adjust to his new job. Of course, the year concluded with the blessing of our beautiful house, but I decided that I'm ready for some normalcy.

Now, as soon as I go and call my life "normal," something odd will happen! But seriously, I need a year or two of just doing the daily grind. I need to commute every day, work hard, exercise regularly, keep up with school, plan vacations, etc.

Normalcy. Even if responsibilities continue to be added to my job...it will still be better than relocating, moving, selling, buying, etc. I guess I am ready for some routine.

I never thought I'd be saying I was ready for normalcy and routine, but I am.

So as I watched the ball drop in NYC last night, those were my thoughts. Goodbye to the stressful, chaotic year of 2010 and welcome to the routine, "normal" year of 2011.

Jack and I hosted a dinner party for a few of our new friends and after noshing all evening on gourmet cheeses, crusty French bread, stuffed olives, Italian salami, shrimp cocktail, and then eating a wonderful dinner of salmon. Great food, great wine, and great friends.

Here's to a great year of normalcy!

Creeve, the Mob, and Ricotta

I know it's Christmas Eve, but I have one last work-related story to share with you. I woke up this peaceful, non-working Christmas Eve morning with a head full of to-do lists, curiosity about the deer hoof prints next to my big picture window (peeping deer?), ideas on how to align with healthcare reform policy, a general worry about the snow weather heading our way, and a subliminal guilt for not having worked out in about two weeks and eating everything in sight.

Oh, and a headache, because I had a shot of tequila last night. Ugh. I am so not 21 anymore. Not that I did tequila shots when I was 21...but it seemed to fit with our "Christmas Vacation" motif last night. This is our new tradition on "Creeve" (which is Christmas Eve Eve), a holiday that we learned about from friends. We were going to attend a party in Lafayette, Indiana and don our silver sauna suits, but the day just killed me (plus, we have to travel for Christmas) and a tequila shot and a movie was far more apropos.

ANYWAY, I've been fighting my way through work this week. My energy level has been nil lately and the natives have been restless at work. The orthopedic surgeons have been causing a ruckus with referral patterns and one surgeon insists on calling me with a 45 minute discourse each time he learns about a workers' comp case that escapes his grasp. We have five other surgeons to feed and it's just crazy. I wasn't the administrator on call, but the admin who was on call asked me to handle it. Just how does one tame a hungry orthopod?

Then, remember that employee who tried to file an EEOC charge against me when I suspended her from work last week? She's been...problematic. I won't talk about the specifics, but I spent probably four hours yesterday documenting the case, speaking with our attorney, and speaking with Risk Management. I discovered that I have grounds on which I need to terminate her employment. I spoke with Nurse Jackie (who offers her final stamp on such matters) and we actually discussed the employee's lineage and discerned whether she's "connected."

That is the absolute first time in my existence on this earth, that I had to trace someone's lineage to make sure they weren't connected to the mob.

While we laughed about it, fueled by sugar and full tummies from the department potluck, I know there is a seed of truth in every joke.

YIKES!

So that's what's going on here. And I'm just about ready for Christmas. If I can let a few more things go and ignore my to-do list, I might just have a peaceful Christmas after all! Every year for my entire life, I've gone to Christmas Eve mass with my family and then attended my dad's family's fancy Christmas party on the Eve. This year, it'll be Jack and me, relaxing during the day today and attending our brand-new parish's Midnight mass alone.

It will be quite strange to vary from our traditions...but now that set down some roots in Chicagoland, it's time to develop our own traditions. Different doesn't mean bad. For one, we're having fish (salmon) on Christmas Eve. We've been eating a lot of fresh, homemade Italian pasta (as a gift from my secretary who makes a side business out of it). And I found myself preferring rocotta cheese and biscotti as snacks. Ah, the discoveries of great food! OH, and please don't tell my 100% Polish family that we're starting to adopt Italian traditions!

It's still Christmas, and a joyful one at that! We're very blessed.

Merry Christmas!

Magic Bullet

So I received one of these at work this week:


It was a total surprise and it hit on a terrible day. Remember those EEOC and grievance charges I had to defend? Turns out those affect me nearly as much as the employees. I *felt* cool and collected, but apparently, I was festering about this. Both were over by Thursday afternoon, when this delightful treat arrived.

Have you ever had an Edible Arrangement? Fresh fruit is usually good. However, chocolate-covered fresh fruit is on another level. I discovered that chocolate-covered strawberries (both dark chocolate and white chocolate) cure most evils in the world. In fact, they certainly cured my evils this week and I told Jack that if I ever become an absolute bear, just bribe me with choco strawberries. I'll chill right out!

Quick Takes, Vol. 8

1. I am preparing to attend another conference this week, this time I'm going to Sg2 to learn how to "do" strategic planning. To this end, I'm planning how to get a week's worth of work done in two days.

2. To weed through said stacks of work, I went into work on Sunday (breaking my own law about this...and probably God's, too). It was quiet and I was deeply focused on my ROI and plan for accountable care organizations within Chicagoland when Cookie Monster (our CFO) came by to say hi and scared me to death. Right when my heart rate returned to normal and I again became engrossed in my work, Sister Lourdes knocked on my door, again making me jump out of my skin.

Guess none of us keep holy the Sabbath!

3. My folks, Skyblue and Lou, visited Jack and me in Chicagoland yesterday. We completed a three-mile walk for the American Heart Association, then feasted at Joe's Crab Shack, and then shopped, shopped, and shopped. I think the distance we walked at the Heart Walk and in the stores sort of, kind of counter-balanced the heart-clogging saturated fats in our crab pots and fried fish? Hey, peace, love, and crabs!

4. We watched ND defeat Boston College on the football field. That victory, in itself, is newsworthy!

5. Jack needs several hundred dollars' worth of dental work done (what can I say?) and I just discovered a health savings account that we started for Jack years ago. This account covers Jack's dental extravaganza. I cannot tell you how excited I am about it!

6. Last, Jack and I are going to a movie tonight. The candidates are "You Again," "Wall Street," or the "Social Network." I'd like to see all three, but have a special place in my heart for Betty White. It must be that former Golden Girls love of mine!

What Really Matters

Last night's Bon Jovi concert was completely worth the investment and it provided a great opportunity to bond with fellow Chicagoans, eat well, kick back and relax, and log new memories.

We started the day by going in to work for a couple hours (hey, I had some stuff I needed to finish). Work isn't a bad drive from the Loop, so we hopped on the Dan Ryan and quickly parked the car in the Soldier Field lot. We didn't even think to bring tailgating paraphernalia; half of Chicago was out there tailgating at the tender hour of 3pm! Nonetheless, we know the pubs in South Loop and visited a couple for old time's sake, Grace O'Malley's and Weathermark Tavern.

After a couple 312's, we decided it was time to eat, so we grabbed the last available table at Zapatista's. Zapatista's has THE best Mexican good anywhere (possibly including Mexico). It makes any other Mexican restaurant seem a miserable imitation.

So we filled our bellies and walked back over to Soldier Field. Our seats were pretty high up, but we enjoyed a superb view of the entire stadium, the lake front, and Navy Pier. It was perfect. While the show was officially sold-out, we had a few empty seats around us so we could kick back and recline.

Kid Rock was first to play; his concert was interesting. That guy has an ego! He has maybe three well-known hits and after playing those, he covered a few hits from the '70's. He strutted around the stage and what's funny, is that several folks went to the concert for him and left before Bon Jovi took the stage!

Then with a grandiose opening befitting a 26-year veteran of rock music, Bon Jovi made his entrance. It wasn't the religious experience I had during the latest U2 concert, but the huge arena concert fits Bon Jovi well. Amazingly, his voice is the same as in the '80's. We bopped around to his classics, "Shot Through the Heart," "Blaze of Glory," and "Livin' on a Prayer." We were treated to Chicago magic when, during "Bad Medicine," the Navy Pier fireworks exploded in the sky. Navy Pier puts on a nightly 20-minute show and because of our stellar location, our line of vision included Bon Jovi, the Chicago skyline, and the firework displays.

Bon Jovi also played their newer hits, during which Jack and I would discuss our dreams and goals. It was ear-ringing loud, but we could still hear each other. We discussed what was ironically echoed in one of today's readings from church...about not seeking possessions for happiness, but rather, the things that really matter. Granted, it's possible to interpret "what really matters" through an individual's creed or believe system.

For us, it just means that money is a means. Possessions are a means. We want to spend our money on experiences and memory-building, not in acquiring things that won't hold meaning very long. However, the experiences hold value for your lifetime. Sitting in the upper deck of Soldier Field, enjoying Bon Jovi tunes from our adolescent years, meeting new people in the city, and having someone you love to share it all with, well, that's what really matters.

Okay, cheesey sentiments are over for the evening!

On a Steeeeeeeck

I'm hazarding to say that today was my first REAL day as an administrator. How many "first days" do I have to have?

I'm in a fantastic mood because I finally feel like I’m starting to get it. Now, as soon as I go and say that out loud, my world will probably fall apart.

But hey, that's what wine is for, right?

Kidding. Well, sort of!

This week's been one for the ages; Monday consisted of 14 hours of work, Tuesday was 10 hours plus a double-header (We won our first game EVER! Granted, we almost blew it in the last inning, but we WON!). Sore and exhausted, I talked myself up and out of bed Wednesday morning to schmooze with physicians at the medical staff golf outing. It was freaking hot out there; several people got sick from the heat and had to go home. Then again, that's the place to get sick. There were 82 doctors hanging around. Three of my personal faves are the personable general surgeon, the vascular surgeon, and one of the orthopods (orthopedic surgeons). The medical staff golf outing is fun, but by 6pm, I was dragging and drove home through squinty, blurry eyes (always fun on the Interstate). All I can say is "thank you!" to Jack. He's been the best wife ever, doing my cooking and cleaning and laundry. He's been whipping up dinner on nights I've been so tired I might have opted for starvation over dinner.

Who am I kidding. It would have been Wendy's!

Anyway, today was a GREAT day. I arrived bright and early and my first meeting was a patient complaint. Those are tough and you always have to help the family find closure when they have a bad experience at your hospital. Then I had two one-on-ones with my managers. One of the managers is doing great, she's growing her service line and looks profitable. The other, well, let's just say they have some work needed. I'm taking my proverbial hammer in there and breaking it up. They've run amuck and I'm taking over interim management of the department. I don't really have time to manage a department like that, but until I find someone who can, I will have to take over. Again, I had that "my office is a confessional" feeling, but it was good to hear their verbal vomit about their department's inner-workings (or lackthereof!).

At that point, it was only 10am!

Then I had an emergency meeting with our gastroenterologists, as we quickly reformulate their block scheduling. I've been doing this learn-as-I-go thing with block scheduling in the operating rooms. Certain docs have "reservations" in the OR's and we block that time for them. But they all want the same times, so we end up with a massive puzzle to piece together.

Then I went up to our chief medical officer's office (about a 1/2 mile away through the hospital corridors) and had a chat about patient throughput bottlenecks up on the nursing units. I'm presenting to the ER physicians in early August to identify incorrect practice patterns.

THEN I raced across town to the other hospital campus where I was 3 minutes late to my own meeting. I met the new CEO of Beakergroup and we took turns grilling each other throughout the meeting. That relationship will be good, but that takes time.

THEN I went to fix all my employees' security requirements. We have to track how much access everyone has (since we deal with sensitive patient information).

THEN Nurse Jackie bribed me with a Rice Krispie Treat on a stick, dipped in wonderful white chocolate. Savoring our (calorie-free) treats, we got a chance to sit down and share our days. I'm thrilled with our growing work relationship; we're getting to the point where we can just about finish each others' sentences (this is a time saver!).

Today was one of the first few days where I didn't feel like a deer in headlights. I could make confident decisions and know they were right. I'm learning to trust my gut when I meet new people or speak with the docs. It's a good feeling and even though I'm working my fool head off at work and feel seriously sleep-deprived, I still love my job.

Now onto the important stuff. Does anyone know where to buy frosted Rice Krispie's on a stick?

Bless Me Father, I Have Salted

Some days I wish I had a Roman Catholic collar and could grant absolution.

Then again, that would require that I take vows of poverty, obedience, and celibacy (*cough, cough*). Plus, you know, I'd have to be a man. Small technicality.

That doesn't stop me from being on the receiving end of a whole lot of hospital-related verbal vomit. Because of my lucky position straddling operations and strategy, I know a lot of what happens at St. Fozzie's. I don't know anything, but EVOO and Nurse Jackie are kind enough to share details with me, ask my opinion, and continue to foster my administrative growth. As a result, I get to have my hands in a lot of projects.

It's becoming commonplace for me to get stopped 2 or 3 times en route to a meeting. I ask people how they are, how their new areas are going, how their growth plans are, etc., and they share the inner-most details of their departments, insecurities, or successes. It was unnerving. I'm slowly beginning to take this as a compliment (they must trust me, right?), but there are days where I feel like I need a Sham-wow or a squeegee to mop the verbal vomit off me. They tell me everything!

Actually, rather than comparing myself to a man of the cloth, I'll compare myself to a grilling secret: the herb rub. Sometimes the comments, rumors, situations, problems, and opportunities are flung my way so fast and furiously that they are akin to flecks of salt. By the end of the day, I feel like a salt-lick, sometimes weighted down by the sheer number of comments and items people bring to my attention. I end up with dozens of post-it notes that I must eventually address.

I've recently discovered that I often must shower when I get home from work. It's not that I get dirty from a day at the hospital. It's not that I'm a germophobe fearing bio-contamination (although, a small part of me does). It's just that I have to wash the salt-encrusted herb rub off me before I can begin to relax.

Jack whips up a wicked herb rub and can turn a run-of-the-mill sirloin into a phenomenal steak that Bobbie Flay would love. All this talk about salt-licks and herb rubs is making me crave Jack's specialty ribeye!

Gratzie for the Gnocchi!

On Thursday, I had the neatest historical experience of my St. Fozzie's tenure. Sandwiched by back-to-back meetings all day, I was able to slip out of the office for two hours on Thursday.

A few months back, one of the secretaries, Alison, invited me to her former "homeland," for a tour. I had mentioned my love of history and she offered to show me around a small, old Italian area that is only a few miles from St. Fozzie's. It's called The Hill. The Hill used to be a hotbed of mob activity and while they've since moved on, the mafia ghosts shimmer alongside the houses in the broken-down neighborhood.

In the 50's and 60's, it was a place of beautiful, well-kept homes with kids playing in the streets. I have a strange gift that oftentimes, I can "see" the way things used to be as I tour through areas that have since been tarnished of their former glory. So I was excited to tour The Hill.

Al picked me up and while driving slowly through the cobblestone streets, explained how things used to look and where her 18 or so aunts and uncles used to live. I saw the old Italian church, visited the steel mill that paid everyone's mortgages, and learned about Chicagoan Italians' preferred methods of sausage-making, ham-curing, and wine-making.

After the tour, Al took me to a hole-in-the-wall Italian bar that was rumored to serve the best homemade Italian pasta (next to Al herself, who makes homemade pasta...in fact, I just purchased 3 pounds of the homemade pasta for Jack!). The place was scary and smoky and you could just hear the racketeering of years past! Pictures from as early as 1903 lined the walls and I saw The Hill's history unfold before me.

For lunch, I had homemade gnocchi, which were heavenly dumplings that melted in my mouth. While I felt out of place in my black suit and heels, the food transported me to a tiny village in southern Italy. Then the cook herself (a 90+ year-old Italian woman!) came out to greet us and make sure the gnocchi were perfect. Al spoke to the cook in fluent Italian and I just shrugged my shoulders, able to only pick out the word "Gratzie!"

After the lunch, Al took me to her folks' house, as they still live in the area. Typical of all Italian immigrants, their house was decorated with pictures of their huge family, the Blessed Mother, and Saint Rocco (who was French but Italians identify with him!). Al's mom insisted I try some of their homemade wine (stored in barrels in the cool, damp basement) and take some Italian sweet bread home for later. I sipped a small thimble of wine while Al's mom was talking a mile a minute in Italian. I asked Al to please translate...Apparently, I look just like one of Al's third cousins and I must be related to the family. Therefore, I must come visit during the family's annual celebration this summer.

I have to admit...the Italian hospitality reminded me of the Polish hospitality with which I am familiar!

It was a tremendous experience and I better understand and appreciate the diversity of the patients served by St. Fozzie's. And I'm pretty sure that was the first time I've ever had any alcoholic beverage during work hours!

Easter Hangover

I had one of those days where I felt like I was moving through cold molasses and all the coffee (and Diet Mt. Dew) in the world couldn't caffeinate me out of my stupor. I felt like the undead, staggering through the hospital corridors from meeting to meeting, trying to feign, y'know, LIFE.

Yep, holidays will do that to you. I think the official term is "holiday hangover."

It wasn't the prep work that killed me. It was the carbs. I had no less than five pounds of noodles, potatoes, lamb cake, and Cadbury's. Oh, and let's not discount the kielbasa.

Oh, the kielbasa. Let me pause to go grab some Tum's.

The saga of the lamb cake continued, as my mom's lamb cake-baking was not quite as successful this year. They were wonderful, but looked a bit different:


Totally worth the calories! And yes, that's one black sheep and one lamb torso. Apparently the head rolled off the white lamb while my folks attended Easter Vigil. The toothpicks give them a Dante's Inferno look, no?

While yesterday's Easter celebration was fun and informal, the food left nothing to be desired. The company was delightful, the weather beautiful, and we felt blessed to celebrate a holiday together, in what will be the last major holiday in our SB house.

Cue the nostalgia!

I had a hard time leaving SB after the Easter festivities ended. I stalled and wandered around and cleaned some things and stalled some more...it didn't work. I still had to load up my car and drive back to Chicagoland.

The dreadful feeling in the pit of my being only served to confirm our correct decision to list the house. It's time. And it's no longer a secret. I cannot take too many more weekends like this, where I have an amazing time with my family and friends, celebrate the core truths of my faith, nosh on a Polish feast, and then....get back in the car and drive 100 miles to the Land of the Lonely!

I PROMISE this is the last yucky, nostalgic post for a while. I will choose to return to my sunny and usually optimistic demeanor!

Time to go pack!

Irish Po-Po

Last night was a golly ol' hoot! Simply must tell you this story.

Jack came up to Chicagoland this weekend to give me a break. I needed a couple of days of sleeping in and not driving. Even though we were flying under the radar, we still wanted to go out Saturday night. We both had a hankering for good beer, mediocre food, and a wonderful atmosphere. So, naturally, we needed an Irish Pub.

After doing some online research, we ended up at Carraig's. We thought it would be cheesy, but ended up having a great time. The beer was great, the food mediocre, and one of my co-workers plopped down next to us (the one with whom I climbed the stairs). After beering and eating, we started wondering if we should go to the Wolfe Tones concert next door (even though we'd never heard much about the Wolfe Tones). I asked for tickets and we scored the last two in the house. So we went next door to the concert for some Irish cheer. The Wolfe Tones band is an old-school, rebel band that talks about the IRA and how much they hate Britain. The place was packed and the drinks were flowing. Oddly, it reminded me of an Irish version of Dyngus Day.

Our table was full of couples in their late 20's or early 30's, save for two guys across the way. The show barely started and they appeared to be having lots of fun already (which is code for, they each had two beers in front of them). After a bit of talking, we discovered they were both Chicago Policemen. They knew where St. Fozzie's is and told some harrowing tales about Fozzie Heights. We clapped along with the show and stomped our feet to the Irish music, but also chatted with these two guys all night. They are huge ND fans.

After the show, the guys invited us back to an Irish bar called Keegan's. No, we normally don't take people up on their invitations to after-parties, but we figured we could trust the cops (we did, however, turn down their offer of a police escort!) Sure enough, this place was great. It's on a whole row of Irish pubs; I know this part of Chicago is very Irish, but the sheer number of Irish pubs surprised me. Keegan's even served my favorite Irish cider on tap, Magners. After having a beer with our new cop friends and hearing all sorts of "real life cop" stories, we eventually returned to my Chicagoland pad to crash.

So while the night began innocently enough with Saturday evening mass, we stumbled across a great Irish pub, attended an Irish rebel band concert, met some new friends on Irish row, and really left our comfort zones!

New Cereal Idea

I just had a brilliant idea. Why do cereal manufacturers maintain such a dichotomy in cereal choices? When you're a kid and don't care about nutritional content, cereals such as Cocoa Pebbles, Trix, Cookie Crisp, and Lucky Charms completely count as a good breakfast. [Side note: my mom only let me have "sugary" cereals every other week. I had to have "healthy" stuff like Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Life on odd weeks.]

Anyway, I would love to sponsor a contest where such "responsible" cereal manufacturers, such as Kashi, Quaker, and whomever makes Fiber One battle to create a healthy Lucky Charms. I need a Lucky Charms with high nutritional value and decent fiber content! Can they please cross Total with Lucky Charms? Total Charms? Totally Lucky?!

Yes, that's what we'll call it: Totally Lucky.

Which is exactly the attitude I've chosen to have these last two days. I've been so stressed out and completely swamped that my body is threatening to break down. Not sick-wise (well, maybe that, too), but the muscles in my body are a wreck. I have knots the size of tennis balls. Maybe this provides a business case for the in-house masseuse position I'm creating in my Chicagoland pad?

Just kidding, Jack!

Anyway, I decided I'm Totally Lucky. I was asked to attend a corporate Muppet Lean/Six Sigma meeting at St. Piggy's. St. Piggy's is a scant 2.5 hours away and required 5 hours on the road. I spent all of Thursday afternoon working in Business Development (the finance and revenue numbers that must be compiled and organized before hospital-wide decisions are made...after five hours of this, my eyes were bleeding and I wanted to fall on a letter opener so I could escape that office). So Friday morning, I was one tired pup and I was so sad I had to travel the Interstates for 5 hours.

On the way to St. Piggy's, I watched the sun rise over the snow-covered flatlands and had a sudden change of heart. Maybe it was the Vitamin D I absorbed from the sun, maybe it was the realization that, a year or so ago, I couldn't even fathom receiving invites to corporate meetings. Thinking about how far I've come, I felt lighter....more in-control....and happier.

The meeting was phenomenal. We actually had to play a Pictionary game accented with Charades (to make a couple of communication-related concepts real) and we all received Mr. Potato Head dolls after a simulation on the importance of correct and tight processes. I actually had fun and I asked a lot of questions. This was the first corporate meeting where I didn't feel braindead and raw after the meeting's conclusion!

Either the subject matter was much easier to grasp, I wasn't so worried about the other execs' perceptions of me, or I'm just getting used to these forums. I'm not sure what's going on, but I loved it. I had enough energy left on the ride home to make an hour-long call to Business Development. Then my brain was mush! Still, though, I'm totally lucky.

Jazz Hands

Even though I was sick on Friday and couldn't attend the physician party to which I was invited Friday night, Jack came to visit me in Chicagoland. To make the most of our time living so close to downtown, we decided to utilize a gift card I won at the hospital's gala and try a new sushi restaurant, Tamarind. We went into town a little early and had a light dinner of Godzilla and Spicy Windy Maki rolls. The place was minimalist and non-descript, but the sushi was great. Half of sushi-eating is the experience and it did not disappoint.

Jack and I were itching to try a couple new venues. One was located around the corner from Tamarind in South Loop, called Kasey's Tavern. It's been there since the 1930's and has unique microbrew beers for $3/pint on Saturday's. So we stopped in for a pint (I had Bell's from K-zoo, very good) and enjoyed the eclectic atmosphere of such an old pub. Plus, we finished up the NFL play-off game as the Saints dominated the field.

The second venue was Andy's Jazz Club , across the river. We heard rave reviews on this place and since we increasingly like jazz (particularly live jazz), we decided to give it a try. The place was packed and I felt resigned to sit on the window and listen to the tremendous jazz. I felt like I should have been wearing a slinky black dress and smoking a cigarette out of one of those sticks. Jack ran to the restroom and I noticed he was flagging me over from across the room. He tried to get us a table but the only table available was for six...and there just happened to be two couples also trying to nab a table. So we plopped down with complete strangers and had a phenomenal time!

The jazz was excellent. Just excellent. Even if you're not a devout fan (I greatly enjoy jazz but am by no means a connoisseur yet), you could not help but tap your foot and bop your head to the bass, piano, and trumpet. It ended up becoming one of those memorable nights I will never forget...especially as our table mates tipped the hostess to let us keep our table. They had a two hour maximum and we were already at three hours by that point! We stayed for over four hours, absorbing every beat. I kept fighting the urge to do "jazz hands!"

Good Eats--Italian Style

Because of the feet of snow predicted in the lake effect snow belt between SB and Chicago, Jack opted to come and visit me in my Chicagoland home. While we had a couple parties to attend in SB, I was glad to stay in Chi. For one, I keep finding restaurants I want to visit with Jack.

So on Friday night, we met at a cozy Italian pub on the south side of Chicago, Popolano's. They're known for thin crust pizza, so we gave it a whirl. It was excellent; sweet sauce and flaky pastry dough made for a great pizza. Italian sausage is never sub-par in the south side, either! We've had a couple deep dish pies along our "pizza journey" in Chicagoland, but you have to be in the mood for deep dish.

On Saturday, after awakening naturally and to glorious sunlight streaming in the windows, we lingered over coffee and relaxed. It felt a bit like vacation (and I may start considering my Chi house a vacation home and re-arranging it as such). Anyway, the day was ours so after hitting the gym, we visited Cooper's Hawk Winery in Orland Park. I visited Cooper's Hawk for two physician lunches in previous weeks, but wanted to go back with Jack and actually try some of the wine. This place was *so* popular; we went at 3:30 p.m., the bar was packed, the restaurant had an hour wait, and we had to wait in line to do some wine tasting! So much for going early!

We tried nine different wines, ranging from a sparkling peach to a heavy Cabernet to a fruity blueberry wine to a wonderful riesling gewurztraminer. We bought a bottle of the Cooper's Hawk red and it'll be a good wine to age and open on a special occasion. We had so much fun and spent almost 2 hours tasting these wines.

Since the restaurant wait was still over an hour, we got in the car and drove through Tinley Park. There are a few restaurants down there I want to visit, but we didn't feel like paying $30-45 for an entree. Hopping back on the expressway, we ended up at Gino's. It's a great place to sit and linger; we knew we wouldn't be rushed out. Instead of pizza, we ordered Italian beef and sausage. Notice a pattern here?

We eat an awful lot of Italian out here in southern Chicago! Mob roots usually equate to phenomenal food.

Most people have a bit of Italian in there, including Nurse Jackie, the CNO at Fozzie's. Everyone knows I'm heavily involved in process improvement projects around the hospital. Nurse Jackie, somewhat familiar with process improvement mapping, is always commenting that we need a "spaghetti diagram." Likely suggestion from an Italian woman, of course she wants spaghetti anything!