Without Fail

I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for our friends. For how they challenge you, for how they push you out of your comfort zone, for how they serve as a touch-stone for the important moments in life. My life would be bleak, black, and boring without my friends.

Yes, friends are necessary for a happy life. Without fail.

I’ve talked about Vera and Mr. Vera in this forum. Vera taught Jack how to knit. Mr. Vera and Jack regularly cycle through the sort-of-rolling hills of Illinois. And Mr. Vera, another hospital administrator, understands the stress of the job and without me even saying one word, presented me with this:



Friends buy friends excellent Chardonnay. Without fail.

So this weekend, we had the lens through which we view life adjusted to reflect a more colorful, joyful existence. To be blatantly honest, things have rather, well, sucked lately. I knew I had a leadership retreat coming up Thursday and Friday of this past week and took the opportunity to book Jack and I back up at the beach house for the weekend. Why not?

It changed me. Maybe I needed it to change me.

I’ll start with the retreat. I went into the retreat, Wednesday night, with a sense of nostalgia, as it was our last retreat in the actual convent. I’ve had the same room for the last six retreats and it’s felt like “my” room. With every action- unpacking, studying theology at the desk, blow drying my hair, packing up to go home, I had a sense that it was my last time in the convent. As I padded down the convent hallway, at 6 a.m., in my socks, t-shirt, and gym shorts, past the adoration chapel, on my way to the coffee the Sisters lovingly placed there out of hospitality, the thought struck me, “wow, I feel at home here.” It’s a weird concept for a married woman in the secular world to feel at home in a convent.

But that’s a core facet of Franciscan hospitality. To make all people feel at home and at ease. It worked on me. If you ever have the chance, take a retreat with the Franciscans. After a grand total of 14 days in a Franciscan convent, I felt as though I didn’t want to leave.

The retreat itself was wonderful. Guest professors peppered us with upper level Franciscan theology that attempted to explain the substance of Trinitarian, Christocentric philosophy. Boiled down, that means that Christ came to earth because God loves us, not because we screwed up and introduced the concept of sin. The whole premise of Franciscan theology is that God loves us. Focus on the positive, joyful aspects of life instead. Rather that spotlighting one mistake, focus on the 378 good things that occurred.

Oddly, that Franciscan theology freed me…to see the sunshine instead of the clouds, the excitement rather than the fear, the experience rather than the time I-should-be-working-diligently-on-work-or-homework. As soon as you let go of the darkness, the light takes over, blinding all the dark places…

…Without fail…

So Year One of the Franciscan Leadership program is complete. I still look around the room and wonder how I was chosen for the program. I have so far to go, so much to learn.

I’m a Franciscan now. For reals.

So after the retreat, I turned my XM radio to station 67. Have you discovered station 67 yet? It is THE BEST jazz on the planet and after a long, tedious day, I flip to 67 and immediately feel my blood pressure drop by 20%. Jazz has that strange effect on Jack and I both- it’s like audio Xanax.

I took the audio Xanax and drove up to The Beach House (yes, it deserves capital letters). The Beach House draws me like a magnet, through the static and minutia of this life, to something Greater.

Anyway, we met this wonderful woman, Alex, in June at the beach house.

[What? I haven’t told you about the beach house? Sorry about that. Will do, even if it’s 7 months later! For the record, our lives were changed with a 10 day retreat on Lake Michigan at The Beach House in June of this year. Details to come, I guess!]

Alex is one of those high-on-life people. It’s all sunshine and daisies for Alex. Except when her mom passed away and she couldn’t gut through it. I met her three weeks later, during our beach vacation.

In June, we rented The Beach House, not really sure of what would transpire that week. As it happened, Vera and Mr. Vera came up for four days to visit and cook for us (insert evil laughter here). After they left, *I* was depressed. Our friends were gone. Sigh. Sitting on the stunning beach, looking dejected over a book I pretended to read, Alex found me. She had two golden labs running circles around her, daring her to throw the tennis ball. Ball! Ball! Ball! Ball! Ball! She handed me a frozen drink and told me it really cannot be that bad. Then she dashed into Lake Michigan, dogs following her, and challenged me to take the plunge.

I followed her. She was hilarious. Depressed, yet hilarious. We talked for at least twelve hours over the next few days and bared our souls. In fact, after Jack and I got back into our routine after vacation, I thought of calling Alex to say hi. I never did, but the thought never left my mind.

So that’s why, after the retreat on Friday, I found myself automatically driving toward Alex’s house, just to see if she was in. Was there a chance she at the beach with our two adopted doggies?

As I crested the lake shore, I caught a view of the two yellow labs on the beach, frolicking in the waves.

Throwing my suit coat behind in my car, I ran down the 35 stairs to the beach, barefoot, in my suit pants and shell, to see them. When I got there, Alex exclaimed, “Dorrie?! Is that you?! I don’t recognize you with make-up on, your hair done, and without a bathing suit on!” She hugged me and told me, “man, I wanted to call you and see how things are going for you! How are you!?”

THAT’s what friends are. They don’t recognize you in dress clothes and make-up and ONLY recognize you in your baseball cap and swimsuit.

Alex is great. Her dogs, Maggie and Kelly, are phenomenal. I threw a tennis ball AT LEAST 389 times into Lake Michigan for Maggie to fetch. She always deposited the ball at my feet. Such loyalty. Without fail.

This is Maggie, coming in from the 248th fetch from the Lake:



I spent a couple hours with Alex and the pups. When the sun started to dip below the horizon, I knew I had to go meet Jack at the house, where he would be arriving any second. As it was, when I arrived back, coated in sand, happy, and high on life, he had the bikes locked up and groceries stashed way. What a good man.

The next morning, we went for a long bike ride on the hilly Lake Michigan coast. Resting before New Buffalo harbor, my work friend Mary texted me and said, “We’re at Round Barn Winery. Are you nearby?” Of COURSE we’re nearby! Do you not know me!? After finishing our ride, we met Mary and her hubby at Round Barn for a couple hours. It was divine- there are few things better than some 70’s rock, some wine, and some good friendship. Without fail!

After some great fellowship and memory-creating, we headed for The Beach House. Our home on Lake Michigan. Of course, our neighbors, Alex, Maggie, and Kelly were out, ready to play. Alex, handing me a Corona Light and heading out into Lake Michigan, challenged me to follow her. Thinking the water would be 39 degrees, I braced for a “polar swim” entry into the lake. Weirdly, the water was at least 75, warm in the sunshine bathing the beach. In Michigan, the 55 degree nights smell of burning leaves, campfires, and s’mores; it was just weird that we were swimming in Lake Michigan and not freezing our butts off in mid-September!

[At that, my brain wondered why we spent thousands going to Anna Maria Island when Lake Michigan was one hour’s drive away from home- and they looked THE SAME!]

See?

Anna Maria Island:




Lake Michigan:




Regardless, I had the best weekend ever. It recharged me. The last convent retreat taught me to truly focus on the positive. Then I went to the beach only to find Alex and the pups, right where I left them in June. Then we met work friends at a winery, despite all the crap from work and living in a barely-surviving hospital scene, and had a great time reminiscing over Michigan wine. Jack and I bonded, oblivious to the stress of life. Then we went back to the beach and resumed where we left off last June, in Lake Michigan, while hatching plans to open a bed and breakfast that Eric Clapton would frequent.

Top it off with a Notre Dame win, plans to return to The Beach House next year, and plenty of jazz—and we know we’re going to make it.

Life is good.

Without fail.

Leisurely Swim

Here we are, almost in mid-May, and I'm wondering where the heck time's going again!

But, more importantly, I've had some time to catch up, stop swimming against the current, and actually throw in a few leisurely backstrokes. Well, I'm not sure if I HAD time or MADE time, but you get my drift. There was a big corporate meeting today that I skipped and I knocked through a one-page to-do list before 3pm. Priorities!

I've forced myself to make some changes in my life. Historically, Jack and I always do this "nose to the grindstone" thing from January-May, where we don't go out much, we save money, we work hard on school and work, and emerge in mid-May hungry for a beach vacation and Jimmy Buffet.

[Vacation's in June this year. We decided to rent a beach house on Lake Michigan and, believe me, I'm counting the milliseconds.]

I'm tired of my wellbeing suffering because of work. Even Elvis pulled me aside and said he was worried about me. I will do anything to make the care better for our patients, but I've been increasingly stepping out of political turfwars or battles of the will that just complicate everything and make everyone tired.

Plus, I piloted the "Ra Project."

Remember my pal from my Franciscan Leadership program, Ra? She works a zillion hours and after a week in the Cayman Islands, decided to turn off her laptop, pager, and blackberry at 6pm every night. She reported better focus, better sleep, and (gasp) time with her boyfriend. It's so counter-cultural for anyone in administration.

Amazed, I tried the same thing. I shut everything off by 7pm and (bigger gasp) actually relax most evenings now. Believe it or not, the work is still there in the morning and I have 100% more gusto to hit it all first thing.

[Don't act so surprised, this is truly new to me!]

I've only been able to institute the "Ra Project" this week because my massive department closure, construction, move, and re-opening occurred last Friday. The biggest project so far in my career is complete and it was an amazing success. It wasn't me- the whole team stepped up and acted as one unit for the entire transition. The whole way home Friday night, I beamed ear-to-ear, happy to relish this one success.

Hey, if we don't celebrate our successes, who will?

But on Monday morning, we finished planning and crews started demo on the other two projects. I became primary oversite on a $2M renovation. Another department cropped up needing reorganization and interim management. I was contacted by our affiliated physician group asking if I would please, oh please, accommodate the optometry practice in an already-tight clinic space. We had a CSI moment in the morgue that required hazmat intervention (will spare you the details on that one!) and a patient stumble into Occupational Medicine with his ear hanging off his head.

And so on goes the hospital gravy train. But y'know what? It'll all still be there when I'm rested and refreshed tomorrow morning.

Christmas Break

I'm taking a break for the next couple weeks. Time to recharge the ol' batteries and refocus as we move into 2012.

Have a blessed Christmas, joyful New Year, and may you and your families have a wonderful holiday season together!

Viva Las Gala

I had SO much fun on my recent Vegas trip with my girlfriend, Mary.

With all the stress of late, it was the impromptu getaway I needed to keep my energy up for another leadership conference and then a Medical Executive Committee conference next week. However, I’m not sure how the celebs jetset all over the world and never have one hair out of place. The jetlag between Chi and Vegas kicked my rear and I looked like the crypt keeper the day after we arrived!

That is, in part, because of our black tie gala the night before our departure. I spent the morning primping and Jack was downtown at Navy Pier, helping set up for the big event. He came home to pick me up, we grabbed our tux and gown, and we rode downtown to check into our hotel. The “pre-party” was fun in the hotel bar with everyone (even the CFO) in our finest duds. We then taxied to Navy Pier for one of the largest balls the Grand Ballroom has ever seen. There were SO many people there! We talked to what felt like a hundred or more people, bid on silent auctions, hobnobbed, and danced.



Like a wedding that goes too quickly and you're left wondering where the night went, it was all over. We joined a small group at the Redhead for the “after party.” That was the first time I had been out until 2 a.m. in…well…YEARS.

SO we scraped ourselves out of bed Sunday morning and had breakfast with friends. Soon after, I departed for the airport to catch my Vegas flight. I was still so sick and my sinuses threatened to explode on the plane. Thank goodness Mary had stashed Tylenol Sinus in her purse!

We landed and checked into Paris, our temporary home.



Not having been out in, like, a whole 15 hours, we got gussied up for a girls’ night. We chose Ichiban for sushi and it was phenomenal. When the place is full of Japanese folks, you know you're in for an excellent time.

After walking a part of the Strip, we retired to the slots...Where I promptly lost $60 in about 10 minutes. Mary, on the other hand, was up about $50. Then she was able to play for another three hours on $20. Now that’s entertainment!

Sick of the slots, I went back out to the strip and watched several Bellagio shows. I love those fountains! It’s so powerfully emotional to watch them, especially with the slight breezes blowing your hair, whisking you away to another land where stress just doesn’t exist. I made three separate trips to the fountains because, well, I could. And while I like to gamble (when I'm winning), I wasn't into the slots quite as much as Mary was. Vegas is pretty safe; as long as you avoid the drunks, prostitutes, and pick-pockets, you're fine. Y'know?



The next morning, Mary went off to her conference and I went to the Bellagio buffet. Where else can you have sushi, shrimp, and beef tenderloin for breakfast? And yes, I went alone. Several people came up to me and asked in a pathetic tone, “are you here all alone?” Yes, I was there alone and greatly relished my time to wander! Now back off, buck-o!

After breakfast, I walked down to New York New York, my fave gambling casino. I played slots for almost three hours and was actually up about $120 before I lost it all again. Dangit! To dampen my losses, I treated myself to a pre-noon frozen hurricane at Coyote Ugly. Slightly buzzed, I joined the line for the NYNY roller coaster.

Yes, I’m one of those nuts who rides the roller coaster. It was fantastic! At $14/ride, it's a great deal for 3 minutes worth of thrills on the Strip! Except I don’t have photo evidence because they won’t let you take anything on the coaster with you (and they make you lock it away in lockers). So you’ll have to take my word!



I then wandered back to the pool for some work-related reading. It was just stunning out there:



That night, we got all gussied up again and went to dinner at La Cave, in Wynn. “Wynn” should be called “Wow.” Dinner consisted of five tapas: avocado rotini, sushi Panini, prosciutto-wrapped, stuffed chicken, roasted salmon, and filet mignon pizza. Yes, filet mignon pizza!



After dinner, we walked over to the La Reve theatre for our show. Dreamy and surreal, I know shows are good when they make me involuntarily hold my breath:



True to our nature, we returned to the gambling floor for a few more slots. Actually, Mary did and after I lost another $20 in 5 minutes, I just watched her. I was still pretty pissed at Vegas for taking my money so quickly. At least Vegas could *tease* me a little!

The next morning, Mary again went off to her conference and I went for a run along the Strip. Talk about good scenery! Between all the over-the-road walkways and extra staircases, I had a great workout. I then went back to the pool for more 85-and-sunny time. After all, I’m already vitamin D deficient and Chi is not known for its sunny winters!

When Mary returned that afternoon, we hit Margaritaville and in addition to the best cheeseburgers and ‘ritas we ever had, we were treated to a strip show. At Jimmy Buffet’s house. When did they start that crap?



Not quite done eating, we then went to Serendipity 3 for ice cream (that we were then too full to eat!). Deciding we needed to try NYNY again, we walked the length of the Strip and Mary promptly lost about $100 there. I held out, still pretty mad at Vegas. We did, however, catch a saxophone concert in front of the resort...very New York!

We weren’t quite done with Vegas and decided to check out Napoleon’s, a dueling piano bar in Paris. It was fabulous! The whole place was jiving and had a much better vibe than even Redhead in Chi. I love live music and had such a good time. We left only because Mary’s eyes were drooping and I could tell she was about to sleep sitting up at the bar.

The next morning, we only had a few hours during which we could play before our flight home. After a quick breakfast, I decided I had forgiven Vegas for taking my money so hastily. Except I blew the cash I had with me at breakfast. Mary loaned me a $20 (feeding my frenzy) and after taking two pulls on the machine, I won a jackpot. That’s more like it! Quickly cashing out to pay her back, I then played with my own money until it was time to leave. And it was entertaining, the way those pesky, mobster-run machines SHOULD reward you. We’re all like Pavlov's dog, right?

All in all, I left Vegas about $15 down. THAT I can handle.

Three days in Sin City was a perfect amount of time. It gives you enough time to try new culinary wonders, walk it all off while perusing the Strip, and forgive Vegas for taking your money away when they suddenly pay you back for your pain.

I Heart Leaves

It's fall in Chicagoland. And a beautiful one at that. I love the leaves even more now that I don't have to rake them. Blow around, colorful leaves, you no longer force me into the slavery of Saturday leaf-raking! But our back yard (or the space we call our "back yard") is a multi-color panarama of leafy bliss:



It was one of those weekends we don't really deserve in mid-October. With temps in the 80's, humidity low, and sun a-shinin', the perfect weather begged us to throw open the windows and enjoy what's probably the last taste of this Floridian climate until April!



The brown leaves, dried and crunchy, just begged me to run through them yesterday. Had to channel my inner kid before our windy city blew all those leaves away! (Either that, or the mower will get them on Tuesday.) We've had every single window thrown wide open, trying to fill our house with that crisp, dry fall air, hoping it permeates the walls enough to get us through winter. This was my view as I sat on the couch and read all day:



I had to sit on the couch all day, as Jack and I walked ten miles between yesterday and today and I didn't have much of a choice but to cater to my sore tootsies. It was a tough day, I'm tellin' ya!



*I took all these picutres with my iPad, and honestly, am not too jazzed about the photo resolution. Is there any way to increase the megapixels on that thing?

Seinfeld

If you're short on time and impatient, don't read this post. It's the Seinfeld of posts, it's about nothing and saying nothing (and it's not even funny! OOOHHHH, burn!)

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The weeks are slipping by so quickly. It's already August and kids are heading back to school...I hate it when you walk around the grocery store and see all the notebooks and pens and folders calling the kiddies back to the hallways of education.

Okay, I'm kidding. I *LOVE* school supplies and feel weirdly guilty that I'm not in school this fall. I love the smell of new books and couldn't wait to dive into my new classes when I gratefully grabbed for the new class syllabus each semester. The promise of new education! New knowledge! And a whole lot of deadlines I better figure out how I'm going to meet!

I know, I know, there's no shame in therapy.

Anyway, I haven't had a chance to update the blog with much regularity as to what's really going on. Work's work and every day, I employ my tunnel vision to churn through my to-do list with a glimmer of hope that I'm enacting some change at St. Fozzie's or with my employees. I briefly debated discontinuing the blog, but I'm choosing to continue, at least for now, because I love picking a date and reading about where I was on that day one or two years ago.

Just last night, Jack and I read a few old posts from this time last year. After reading about our drama and stress, Jack looked at me and said, "Wow, our lives are so completely dry and boring now. Let's move!"

He was kidding. I hope. With the housing market still in shambles and our investment portfolios down probably 15% from the last three DAYS, it's probably not a good idea. Blech!

Anyway, things are going well. Evidenced by the fact that I'm sitting on my chaise lounger OUTSIDE at 4:39 p.m. on a Wednesday! We realized a few weeks ago that we've rarely seen our house in the daylight...so when I had a corporate meeting that let out early at St. Rowlf's Hospital, I made a beeline for my house to actually (gasp) see my house with natural light spewing forth from the windows. I'm being dramatic, but it's strange to be home.

Almost guilt-provoking, you would say! I'm fighting the guilt, though. I'm strong!

So here I sit, outside, enjoying the unseasonal 74 degree, sunny day out on my patio. The emails can wait, the BB can sit on the charger, and the stack of paperwork I brought home to organize and work through can wait until tonight.

Or tomorrow morning! My new HBR arrived!

(Just kidding, it was the Crate and Barrel catalogue!)

Fargo and Other Stuff

First, I will never again underestimate the importance of margaritas with friends. I know I'm taking a risk of sounding like a booze-hound here, but I went out for a drink after work today with Mary, one of the nursing directors. She's another one of those soulmates; we just 'get' each other.

So after a couple hours and a couple large margaritas, we bonded. And I drove home (sobered up, thank you) so grateful for coworkers like that. I felt better about work because I knew she was in similar drama as me. Misery loves company...and apparently, margaritas, too!

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Second, I arrived home tonight to a 59-degree house. Seriously? In May? So I dug out a heavy sweatshirt and sunk my tequila'd brain down for some quality television. Jack went out with friends since I did and I enjoyed the tv to myself for a while. Checking the DVR, I found our usual staples of "The Borgias," "Deadliest Catch," reruns of "Whose Line Is It Anyway," and..."Fraggle Rock?"

Fraggle Rock?

So I passed on the Borgias and checked out Fraggle Rock. Why not?!

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When I talk about watching "The Borgias," I get the same reaction as when I let it slip that I watch "Boardwalk Empire." I can't help it...murderous scandal in Renassiance, Pre-Reformation Rome? What's not to love? While I know my beloved Church has advanced from this corrupt state, I have studied theology long enough to know (and accept) that it's mostly true. Sad, but true.

Epistemological Doorknob (one of my fellow undergraduate theology scholars) and I debate this show. She has good ideas about how some of the inner-Vatican scenes would be more authentic if they were scripted in Latin. Good point, ED, good point.

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So a few words about my trip to Fargo...I've noticed that Fargo is one of those "one word" cities about which everyone has preconceived notions, like "Miami," "Vegas," or "Hollywood." Except that Fargo is the anti-thesis of those cities!

I'll be nice. It was so outside my realm of usual activity that I truly did forget about work for a while.

I went to visit my friend Bewley, her husband, and their new baby, D. D is three months and quite a character already. He entertains himself quite well, as evidenced in this hickey he gave himself:



He's teething already...Since Bewley is a Ph.D., we figure he's in "AP Teething" or maybe "Teething Honors."

Because of their hectic life as new parents, neither had gotten a decent meal in weeks. So Bewley's husband broke out his home-brewed beer:



It was good...but had a *lot* of bubbles. It was a foiled batch that didn't quite ferment. So the alcohol content was low and the bubble content, well, high.

In other news, I mixed up an herb rub for Bewley's husband and I, as we dined on t-bone steaks one night. The guilt I felt was palpable; this occurred in a staunch vegetarian's kitchen who barely tolerated the steaks hitting her counter tops!



Nonetheless, the herb rub worked its magic. And it was good.

We didn't just eat, we did some minor sight-seeing along the way, too. There are two sights in town, the town theatre and the Viking ship that is housed on the Minnesota side of the border. Here's the ship (which was, admittedly, pretty cool):





We also stopped by the theatre. Bewley and I watched a French film called Potiche, which, ironically, features a woman who progressed from housewife to successful CEO to successful politician. The CEO part was great; when her husband's umbrella factory revolted, she stepped in and with her grace and womanly leadership, created a harmonious work environment.

The trip itself was an interesting study in women's leadership. Bewley studies feminist philosophy and I witnessed how a feminist philosopher views and experiences motherhood. And, like in the movie, women can assume CEO roles gracefully.

I struggled with this diverse concept throughout the trip. Motherhood versus careerhood. Can the two co-exist? It generated a lot of conversation between Bewley and me. Baby D tried to join in, but he was busy gnawing on his arm! He was a cutie and I surprised myself by grabbing him up into my lap several times a day.

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I have a few more tidbits about Fargo...but they involve a new pair of shoes!

Muppet Wisdom

Lazy Day Meme

Well, I worked on Ethics all day yesterday and took today OFF. After church and grocery shopping, Jack and I hauled our lawn chairs outside to enjoy the freakishly warm 77 degree day. We practiced our sloth by sitting out there and watching our boring neighborhood...plus, it was warmer than our entire stay in Florida in February! So because I have a vacation vibe today, I'm takin' it easy. A blogger friend posted this last week and it looked like fun:


1. What were you doing 10 years ago?

Ten years ago, I was finishing college, starting my M.A. in Theology, planning my wedding, working three PT jobs, teaching Religious Education to second graders, and somehow, job searching. It seems like a lifetime ago! We went to Perkins a lot for desserts.

2. Five things on your to do list today:

a.) Process a contract for stat laboratory tests for dialysis patients (yawn).
b.) Restock the wine rack from our company last night. Two friends from work came over and we played a game called "Bananagram." It's a creative Scrabble with fewer rules. Insert a couple bottles of wine and we were laughing until we cried.
c.) Dust the bookcases in the den. I wrote "anarchy" in the dust last weekend and have a new obsession with Swiffer.
d.) Book my plane tickets to Fargo! Time to visit the cutest little Irish babe north of the Arctic Circle (well, not really, but you'd think it was with all the snow those poor folks get).
e.) Remind Jack to file our taxes. It's April 3. Gulp!

3. Five snacks you enjoy:

a.) Fresh strawberries and/or raspberries.
b.) freshly squeezed grapefruit juice (don't ask).
c.) soft peanut butter cookies.
d.) Laffy Taffy
e.) Doritos.

4.) Best movies of all time?

a.) Shawshank Redemption
b.) Top Gun
c.) The Matrix
d.) Monty Python and the Holy Grail
e.) Rudy!

5.) What you would like to be doing in 25 years?

a.) Blogging from our sailboat in the Caribbean...
b.) Sitting poolside at our home on Anna Maria Island, Florida.
c.) Traveling the US on a motivational speaking tour.
d.) Enjoying my man and the life we have built together.
e.) Not worrying about how I look: my hair, my make-up, my weight--none of that crap.

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!

Don't Worry...

...I'll come home with a bunch of sand in my carry-on bag and you can laugh at me then.

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!

Philly: Tourists and Cheesesteaks

Because Jack and I almost always vacation in sunny, beach-releated retreats, we rarely have the chance to do any actual tourist activities. Even when we went to Ireland, we kept our tourist tendencies to a minimum. It dawned on me that I've visited 28 countries but have never seen any significant monument from American history!

So, in Philly, we cast aside our worries and hit the tourist track.



Flying in Thursday morning, we jumped in our rental car, stashed our belongings at the B&B (located on the campus of Temple University) and hit the path. We visited Independence Hall (where the Declaration of Independence and Constitution were signed), snapped our pictures with the Liberty Bell (reverently enshrined in a plexiglass room), took a self-paced tour of the US Mint (which was stamping quarters and pennies for our monetary pleasure), and revered Benjamin Franklin's grave. We gaped at the seemingly tongue-in-cheek Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and George Washington characters milling around the area. Why hadn't I swallowed my pride and had my picture taken with George Washington? That would have been a neat shot for when I open my B&B and need celebrity pictures to line my downstairs bar!

Before and after our touring, we indulged in Philly Cheese steak sandwiches. I'm glad I'm a carnivore!

On Friday night, Jack and I took off for Pat's, the world-renowned Cheese steak dive in southern Philly. When we received our cheese steaks, neither one of us said one word for the entire 15 minutes it took to eat (inhale) those sandwiches. Everyone knows it's a Pat's v. Gino's war in Philly for the best steak, but we opted for Pat's.





With stomachs full of cheese steak bliss, we hit the bridge. As in, the Benjamin Franklin Bridge to Camden, New Jersey. A three-mile round trip, we hiked the bridge at twilight and savored a breezy, 80 degree summer evening from the bridge. I must note that this is the first time I got stage fright. I'm not afraid of heights and this bridge totally overwhelmed my sense of balance!



Then on Sunday, God hit the "Oh, that's right, it's autumn!" button on His eternal dashboard and the weather transformed from sticky and 90 to freezing cold, damp, and 60 (of COURSE we packed for this change). I drug my sick self out of bed Sunday morning and while we briefly debating changing our flights to an earlier time, we decided to make the most of the day.

I've always wanted to see Eastern State Penitentary. I have a strange fascination with jails...so many people come to terms with their lives' actions (or go insane!) in those rooms and spend months or years within their walls. Some emerge with a completely-different world outside their doorsteps (think Shawshank Redemption). So Jack indulged me on my jail tour and we visited Eastern State. Even though I sported a probably-100+ degree temperature and was going through kleenex at a rate of two boxes every hour, what better way to spend the day than trooping through the rain at a prison?

It was awful. The outside, shrouded in heavy, dark granite and iron grates, resembled a medieval castle. A 7-foot thick, 30 foot-high wall guarded the property, which was divided into a total of 12 cell blocks. Designed to deter crime in 1820's Philly, the castle-structure pioneered the concept of solitary confinement and with its dark, dank cells, tried to reform hardened criminals within its walls.



Pause for shivers!

Jack and I, always the geeks, joined an architectural tour to see behind-the-scenes cell blocks and courtyards. I thought the rain added a degree of penance even the Quakers would have been proud of. The Penitentary (from the word "penance") was a worthwhile stop on our Philly tour and after being soaked in the steady rain, Jack and I sought refuge at Jack's Firehouse (across the street) for lunch.

So while I have to return to Philly in April, I doubt Jack will return with me. Unless, of course, I can dangle a Pat's cheese steak in front of his eyes in a hypnotic manner!

Surprised

Oh, to be blogging again!

I was on a recent, AT&T-imposed internet fast. Self-imposed internet fasts are one thing, but when your third party internet provider has to rewire the neighborhood fiber optic, well, that's another.

So, so, so much has happened in the last week. All you need to know is that I really did survive the catastrophe and we shouldn't have to go to trial.

Anyway!

First things first. One of my blogger friends tagged me in the latest meme traveling around the blogosphere. The original intent of the meme was to encourage folks to look back over their lives and see how their attitudes have changed. It's a little narcissistic, but isn't narcissism the core of Facebook and other internet-based media!? I tried to keep mine from the "I rock" variety to the "still give me shivers when I think about it" kind.

And all of this is in addition to living apart from Jack for the one year, one month, and eight days. That takes the cake as the primo thing I did and it still surprises the hell outta me!

Ten Things I Did That Still Surprise the Hell Out of Me:

1. Lived in Ireland.

2. Dated a seminarian (that was before the Jack era).

3. Taught a class. A three hour class.

4. Finished my master's degree while working full time, with sanity hinging precipitously in the balance.

5. Sewed on a button when Jack lived in SB and my favorite dress pants were out of commission.

6. Had a snowball fight on the Indiana Toll Road with The Edge, when we got stuck for hours in a freak, 7-inch-an-hour lake-effect snowstorm. We were wearing fleece pullovers because we were traveling back from O'Hare (from Vegas).

7. Went "Jelly Fish Hopping" with Jack, on a day after a small tropical storm whipped up the waters around Florida and the beaches were littered with hundreds of jellyfish. We could have been stung. Hundreds of times. See pic above.

8. Slept in a train station in Wales. With homeless people. Yes, there are homeless people in Wales.

9. Fell out of a white-water raft while trying to navigate a the East Race Waterway with my dog-walker (an 8th grader) in the boat. I had to be towed to shore and she made it to the end of the run.

10.Finished this meme. Did you notice they got more embarrassing as the list progressed?!

Okay, I'm going back to work for the evening. Before I leave, I tag Therese, Lula, and Nurse Starbucks to complete similar lists!!

Jazz Hands

I think you all know that I'm a workaholic (which, I admit, I'm blurring the line between my adamant perfectionism and workaholism). However, I found a way of dealing with the stress when I'm stuck at the office alone, late at night...I play jazz music. Snappy, upbeat jazz.

I actually learned this idea from Mel Gibson. Okay, it wasn't Mel Gibson, but his film "What Women Want." I hated that movie and it's archaic, inaccurate portrayal of feminist philosophy, but I loved the woman that Helen Hunt played (oh stop, that's not what I mean!). She exuded authority and excellence in her work as a Marketing exec (ahem, in Chicago!). She stayed late in the office, by herself, and survived the late evenings with a good dose of jazz. When I break out the jazz, I feel less frazzled, I take a deep breath, and it jumpstarts my creative brain cells.

And I'm not claiming allegiance to Miles Davis or John Coltrane exclusively. They're both phenomenal artists!

I just realized it's time to visit Andy's Jazz Club again!

Lost "Lost" Me

I used to be a Lost devotee. The pilot episode drew me in and I accepted the mysterious weirdness in the first couple of seasons…the hatch, the black fog, the polar bears, the unbelievably random back-stories of everyone stranded on the island together.

Then I decided that Lost was too weird and not only did I lose track of the story line if I missed more than 48 seconds of an episode, but the plot lines stressed me out.

I felt the same with 24 and ER. I expect surprising, stressful endings when I’m watching Notre Dame football. But regularly-scheduled television? Not so much. But in my tradition of watching series finales and formulating all sorts of unsupported opinions, I offer you my comments on Lost:

1. If they’ve been trapped on the island for years now, why is the 350 pound character still, well, 350 pounds? They can’t possibly have anything but nuts and berries on that island, right? Is that a Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise I spy behind the secret hatch!?

2. I’m not sure why John Locke had such a central role. Didn’t he die in season two?

3. There are a bunch of new people on the island, folks with whom I’m not familiar. Did another plane crash on the island and why didn't that hit the tabloids?

4. I thought the Man in Black was a Will Smith movie from the late 90's? I

5. I think I understood the sideways world where it seems like everyone is in purgatory (or for the non-Catholic, limbo) and must figure out the purpose of their lives. That was brilliant and actually gave me good mental fodder while I’m waiting for my coffee pot to finish tomorrow morning.

6. I love the idea of magic island water. Where can I get me some of that? Will everything I sprinkle it on become a gorgeous tropical island? Or is it something you're supposed to drink? Nevermind, I probably already know the answer to that one!

I won't wreck the ending for you (Jack), but it was both symbolic and philosophically-pleasing to anyone who might look for something deeper in their weekday television entertainment. However, they still left about 31 unanswered questions (and those are the questions about which I know!). While there probably won't be any kind of sequel, there are plenty of unraveled threads that can be addressed in books and tv interviews with the producers!

Wink, wink.

Vacation Weirdness

Y'know that email forward that went around a year ago with weird ramblings like, "If Hawaii is an island, why does it have interstate highways?" I have my own list of ramblings from this spring's vacation:

1. I don't mind being sore from beach work-outs such as bodyboarding or jumping in the waves. I do, however, mind being sore from the gym and the balance ball.

2. That being said, it is much easier to work out when the gym overlooks a gorgeous pool with a waterfall and palm trees...especially when you know you have to don a bikini later that day.

3. I have bi-coastal Hurricane preferences. On the ocean side of FL, it's Grills. On the gulf side, it must be Beachhouse. And yes, both involve a lot of alcohol.

4. Signs are posted everywhere, that glass and alcohol are prohibited on the beach. So why are they selling Corona in glass bottles?

5. Florida has some weird local news stories. Every day, at least one story involved a massive snake or alligator.

6. Our personal culinary preferences generally stem from the great food Jack and I eat on vacation. Such examples include bacon-wrapped scallops, crab cakes, panko-encrusted salmon, wasabi-seared ahi tuna, lobster with Old Bay, jerk pork, black bean cakes, and champagne sangria. Are we just trying to recreate vacation when we cook at home?

7. Do hot tubs really encourage people to talk to each other? At the resort, we experienced several MTV-esque hot tub sessions that start out with collegiate questions like, "So where are you from?" and "What do you do?" I guess in college it was, "Where are you from and what is your major?" Still, we probably met 20 people in our various evening hot-tubbing. Oddly, many were from the Chicagoland area. We ended up becoming pals with several folks we met and really enjoyed that social element.

I already miss that resort (tear). I wonder if I can telecommute from my villa in Florida? And yes, the above picture is my own Corona moment from Cocoa Beach.

Vacation Tidbits

Jack and I recently returned from a glorious nine day vacation in Florida. Granted, it was *just* Florida, but we were both very much looking forward to spending time together, relaxing by the pool and on the beach, and recuperating from our lives.

Mission accomplished. We laid here several days:

Actually, this was just the "adult" pool. Kids were forbidden and the adults relaxed with their beverage of choice. I was okay with this until some lady took a glass (yes, GLASS) of wine into the pool with her. It was very relaxing and this was the view from our cabana. We managed to grab a cabana every day we pooled. After 2-3 hours, that Floridian sun burned our fair Eastern European and Irish skin to a crisp and we sought refuge in the cabanas. Plus, we felt like royalty as the pool boys waved us with huge palm fronds. Did I dream up the pool boy scenario? :)

When we grew tired of the chilled-out vibe and jazz music that played in surround-sound fashion at the adult pool, we escaped to the main pool around the corner. This pool was akin to a land cruise; Jamaican and reggae music set the atmosphere while fun and games punctuated the afternoons:

See that water slide at the top? It was fast and this is where Jack scraped his elbows on the bottom of the pool! We discovered that, as adults, we had greater velocity going down the slide! Apart from the splash-downs from the slide, we didn't spend a lot of time in this pool. They allowed diaper-clad toddlers in the pool and that's just, well, gross. I fought the urge to Purrell my entire body after taking a dip.

We did do other things besides bliss out by the pool and tackle the water slide. We went to the beach for sunrise one morning. Naturally, it was Cocoa Beach and we enjoyed every nanosecond of those crashing ocean waves: Cocoa Beach is just my favorite beach around. It's young and hip and fun with laid-back expectations. We basked in the sand, discussed our future (devising a new 5-year plan), and frolicked in the huge waves like kids. After a divine lunch at Grills, a tiki bar that serves Florida's best seafood, we returned to the waves at a Cape Canaveral beach for more wave action. It was a phenomenal day for bodyboarding!

On other days, we did some "inland" touring in Celebration and Winter Garden, Florida. Celebration is this town engineered by Disney and it's a picturesque utopia. We found so many restaurants in Celebration that we actually went twice so we could eat our way through the town. We visited the town tavern (lobster and stuffed clams!), Columbia restaurant (tapas!), and the token Irish pub. Here is the adorable town square from across the lake (hey, we had to walk off some of that food!):
Celebration reintroduced us to our old friend, Old Bay seasoning. Old Bay is simply wonderful blend of spices that makes seafood taste like it's straight out of Maine. Guess what we bought at the store as soon as we returned to Chicago? Yep, Old Bay! In Winter Garden, we visited dear friends of ours, Ralph and Lauren, who moved to Florida six years ago. They generously hosted us for dinner while we caught up on the last three years of our lives and played with their two adorable daughters. That reminds me, I really need to get Lauren's key lime pie recipe!

The two last things of note occurred on Friday (which was Jack's birthday). We watched yet another NASA shuttle launch. By some strange stroke of luck, I've witnessed five launches within the last year and a half. There's a launch each time I'm in Florida! All the launches are the same though; the shuttle goes up in about 60 seconds and then you're left looking at a smoke plume. However, it is neat to say you've seen one.

For Jack's birthday dinner, I decided to pull out all the stops. We scouted out a couple of special(expensive) places and ended up dining at Funky Monkey Wine Company. Funky Monkey is this decadent, sexy wine bar that's decked out in purple and yellow. Even though it's completely against my frugal nature, I tried a $14 glass of wine. It was completely worth it, but I chose to slum it with a $9 glass on Round #2. Jack followed suit and we noshed on fried goat cheese and scallops for an appetizer. I can't remember what we ate for our main courses because that's when the drag show started. See?
I'm not sure I can run for public office anymore because I ended up with a cameo in the show! She (I mean he) came over and "interviewed" me (thank you for giving me a stage presence, dear $14 glass of wine!). Then she (I mean he) went through my purse, announcing the contents to the entire place. Then she/he called me boring because she couldn't rifle through my cell phone and call one of my contacts!

Thank you, dear Lord. I could just imagine EVOO, Nurse Jackie, or Elvis getting a call from Dolly Madison!

It was SO much fun, though! Both shows were hysterical and made the extravagantly-priced food and wine worth the experience. The Funky Monkey was a great way to cap off the evening with the type of laughter that makes your stomach sore the next day. Wait, maybe that was the $14 wine coming back to haunt me! Whatever the case, it was a great trip and we are already looking to book our next get-away in fall.

Top O' The Morning To Ya

Happy St. Patty's Day!

Even though I spent a year of my life in Ireland and it was one of the absolute best years of my life, St. Patty's Day has come to denote a more recent, more painful memory.

Rewind to St. Patty's Day 2007. SkyBlue and Lou held a party to celebrate Lou's birthday. It was our annual dual Lou's birthday/St. Patty's Day celebration. After the corned beef and cabbage dinner, my mom broke out the green margaritas....the Irishritas!

They're the normal Jose Cuervo variety with green dye. We didn't grind up microgreens or spinach or anything scary!

Anyway, I'll just give you the abridged version of the story...Combine a couple Irishritas, high-heeled boots, some Black Eyed Peas, thick carpet, and a bit of random dancing. My mom went to twirl me and my boot heel caught the carpet...I fell into the (solid wood) end table. I quickly got up, brushed the twinge of pain aside, and resumed my evening.

The next morning, I couldn't move when I woke up. I knew I bruised something and so I hobbled around and went to work and school the next two days. That Tuesday night, I went home, exhausted from my day, and flopped on the couch. As I flopped, I crumbled in slow motion as my ribs cracked and crunched beneath the weight of my flop. Breathless and delirious with pain, I slowly curled up on the couch and tried not to breathe.

The next morning, I called my doctor who immediately prescribed x-rays. The X-ray tech wouldn't tell me the results, but I wasn't stupid enough to miss the huge CRACK in two ribs.

My physician mercifully called me in some pain meds. I sat on the couch for two days, doing my best to not inhale/cough/laugh/sneeze as I healed.

The St. Patty's Day celebration of 2007 ended with a two-week stint of pain that is only appreciated by others who've broken ribs! I've been careful to never again combine Irishritas, high heeled boots, carpet, and dancing!

Bodyboarding in Antigua

I should quit my hospital administrator gig and become a travel agent.

Last weekend, during our wine tasting and miscellaneous relaxation time, Jack and I gazed out the window, stared into the Arctic Wasteland that is currently Chicagoland, and came to the same conclusion: it's time to start planning our next vacation.

So here's the trick, how does one plan a vacation when one has no idea of the timeline of her next job assignment? Do I plan a trip and tell the powers-that-be that, forget work, I'm going to the Caribbean? What if I have to relocate across the state? What if we have one week in which to move and I'm busy beaching bumming it? Do I fore go packing and moving time to visit my favorite white sand beach in Antigua? Okay, I've never been to Antigua, but the cruise ship's itinerary I'm researching stops there for a whole ten hours.

Cruises are great. They're quickly becoming our favorite way to travel. You only unpack once and while your stateroom is the size of a walk-in closet, you're not there very often. You wake up, exercise, get a healthy breakfast in the cafe (that has wall-to-wall windows overlooking the gorgeous azure sea), get dressed, and walk off the ship to that day's port of call. After 8-10 hours of adventure and sun, you re-board the ship, get showers, don a cute sundress, and go to formal dinner in the dining room. After dinner, you see a Broadway show, a comedian, or even take dance lessons. It's wonderful. Then the waves rock you to sleep and you sleep like a baby.

The alternative is to fly down to Florida or the Caribbean, rent a condo, and veg out for a week on the beach. It's a lot less exciting, but it *is* relaxing. Jack was bitin' at the bit to book SOMETHING, for half the fun of a tropical vacation (or any vacation, really) is the anticipation of the trip. But I held him back and promised that AS SOON as we find out what's going on with my job, we'll book a trip. Hopefully, it's that cruise to Antigua!