Where was this when I was a kid struggling thru Ms.Lick’s Math class. A big BOO for the American education system…
WHITE TRUFFLES IN WINTER
I read this over the course of a couple of visits to B&N & enjoyed it so much that I sent a copy (hardcover no less) to my sister-in-law for Christmas. It is the story of a French culinary master named Escoffier, his lovers, & the passionate meals he conjured– & more importantly, will conjure– for them. Should you choose to baste yourself in the lascivious gluttony of Escoffier’s culinary realm, expect a slight transformation in your eating habits. PB&J’s shall fall to the wayside, replaced with fun, experimental creations of your own (& hopefully for your own zesty lovers), like Julienned carrots in a brown sugar / cranberry reduction, served beside a blackened strip steak & stilton-apple salad w/ finger greens…. at least that’s the effect it had on me!
Last week was an unusually warm & sunny January day, so me & the lady decided to jump the border for her birthday. We snuck into the observation tunnels behind the thundering waters of Niagara Falls & clicked a couple pix thru the mist
… then we wrung our hats out & wandered around the glass temple the Canucks call the Butterfly Conservatory, eh?
–Went to visit my sister & all I can remember doing is eating, eating and eating some more. Hogs & Chicks..Yes! Brazilian steakhouse, check. Tex-mex & margheritas? CHECK! BBQ… of course! I found some time to take a nap. I even managed to squeeze myself into a leather vest, cowboy boots & hat before hopping on my stubborn horse. I am warned, “Careful, that one likes to run this field we’re about to enter, & if you don’t let him… he might start bucking. You just hang on. Try & not fall off.”
If you’re searching for a fun party snack / drink combo, I would take the time & effort** to shave some Brie and smear it on a fresh loaf of cranberry bread (toss some candied orange in the mix, you won’t be sorry!). Then pour some Peach Bellini’s to wash it down. Repeat until your head’s a bit fuzzy, but don’t plan on getting much farther along unless you’re taking shots of Tito’s in between! I know cause this is what me and the lady drank for New Years, & despite downing near 2 full bottles… well, lets say it wasn’t near enough to deal w/ her family.
Ah! assuming it’s not New Years and you’re not the Peach Bellini type, you might want to try a seasonal Blueberry Ale instead. It’s one of those fun to drink drinks that remind me of whitewater rafting in Maine, & the occasional trip to the firetruck at Becker Farms. Ah, nostalgia…
-3rd clinical green goopy dick post, giggles! 4th clinical -vitamins @ soup kitchen Health fair 5th clinical- haircut v. coloring book favors (this is the lady with the grey bob, the one with black iron shit under her fingernails and on her siderail. I clean her up and brush her hair with a tender sadness 6th clinical- vaginal discharge sticking parts (haircut). No bellybutton= angel / smile. 7th clinical- 2 girls pass out(1 to hosp). have a real walkie talkie Though blind. give meds! help Page W/ raisin who spits up a softball of phlegm 8th clinical- peg tube feed/flush!! cath'd PT, real nursing stuff!! (not LPN shit) even LPN asks why 9th clinical- PT won't wake up. give up on her and help others. then get her done quick (gettin better) 10th- she wants an evening gown so we can go dancing. all she has is a tattered white sweater with a texture like snow and a pair of tattered blue trousers, thin enough that they could be scrubs, the elastic band was half torn off. We pick her up with a stand lift. She's forgotten all about dancing and sings to me in the shy, frail voice of teaching and the shell game (t-cell b-cell) meeting doppelganger / test prep girl story
ugh... why isn't there enough time in the day? I'll try and do better w/ the storytelling next semester.
My first clinical day was stress free & fun. The second clinical… madness! The plan sounded easy enough: do some vitals, give a bedbath & get your lady to breakfast. Ms.Mercutia (my unforgettable first PT) however, had a different plan.
I walk in & find dear Ms.Mercutia wrapped up like a burrito, sleeping soundly in bed. Being the kind, gentle soul I am, I softly whisper her name & get nothing in response. I look to my partner (who’s all but catatonic from fear of this wrinkled soul). I realize I’ll be getting no help from her & ramp up my efforts to wake the soon to be dead. On what must have been my fifty seventh failed attempt, I take a step back & check to see if she’s still breathing.
When eventually I get her to wake up, she’s grumpy & it’s all I can do to work a deal: She’s gonna give me an arm to do vitals on, & in return I’ll let her doze until I’m done. I check her pulse &… “AAAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!” my moderately chilly stethoscope touched her arm & now I have a fleet of nurses looking to see what horrible thing I’ve done.
“I have to pee.”
…um, ok? no problem? I get the bedpan, put gloves on &…
“Where’s my teeth?”
…um, I thought you had to pee?
“I have to pee? I don’t have to pee, silly. I need my TEETH”
…um, ok? I put the bedpan away &
“I have to Pee, REAL BAD.”
…Ok, you really need to pee this time?
“I need to pee? Really? But I just pee’d! You’re confusing me.” says she with a smile.
As I’m getting Ms.Mercutia cleaned up from her “accident”, N.Greymane walks in & reminds me to “get her all clean & dry down there”. And what happens next will haunt me for the rest of my life…
The drawers go down &…. wrinkly blonde girl bits burn themselves into my braincase.
Thankfully M.Mercutia doesn’t freak out as I hose her off and dab her down. Instead she starts telling me stories about WWII. She tells these stories as if Hitler’s right outside the window riding the top of a bloody panzer tank. And as cool as that was, it doesn’t make up for the nightmare I now see every time I close my eyes or blink. Freddy Krueger with a scraggly blonde beard, it’s kinda something like that.
Wednesdays are clinical days, & cause we’re all rookies they’ve stationed us in the raisin farm… ahem… nursing home, where we can’t do too much harm. Our first day wasn’t too traumatic or involved, it was little more than a tour of the facility, but– in an effort to look halfway decent for the cute nursing girls– I took some time the night before and ironed my uniform, pleats and all. Then, as we’re all walking down the hall at the end of the day one of the girls mentions, in a friendly offhand sort of way, that she wished her uni top looked as good on her as mine does on me. Success! Those pleats I ironed all nice… they’re… curiously absent on the other guy’s uniform? And mine looks uncannily like… oh snaps…. I bought a girl top….
There’s all sorts of things they make us do in school which just don’t happen once you make the transition to the real world. The instructors routinely make us do a 2 step blood pressure which starts by palpating the radial pulse and then inflating the cuff until said pulse is obliterated. The point of doing things this ways is to find a baseline, but… after doing this procedure more times than I can count, I’ve found the method to be less than accurate (the actual systolic is always 10mmHg or more higher).. it doubles the amount of time required to do vitals & is truly a waste of time (a precious commodity in most hospitals). Regardless, I do the 2 step process each time with a big ol smile on my face. I am king of jumping thru fiery hoops!