10/02/2009 Standardized Patient Revisited

We have a couple of students rotating in our department at work at the moment. Today they had to perform two genetic counseling sessions with a standardized patient in their genetic counseling program. Which, for those of you away from the realm of patient care training, means that you must perform a genetic counseling session with an actor pretending to be a patient while being videotaped- knowing full well the whole time that several bigwigs are watching you, and will be able to watch you again, for all of eternity. Or until the tape breaks. Or you burn it.

It brought me back to when we had to do our standardized patient assignment our second year of grad school. Our program director welcomed us back to the start of our second year, filling us in on our rotation schedules, our classes, our thesis deadlines- nothing too big. It was our second year- we knew the ropes.

Then there was a pause. An unnatural clearing of the throat. "Oh, um. . .one more thing. . in three weeks time, we're going to have you try something we've never done before. . a full counseling session. . with an actor. . with three of your program directors/supervisors in the room. . with a video camera. " All six of us spent the next 21 days with a constant stomach ache. Perhaps this malaise started when, in the process of explaining the assignment to us in more detail, our director referred to herself and our other supervisors as "judges. " When this was pointed out to her, she chuckled and said, "Oh, did I say JUDGES? Hahahahohohoha- Oh, I didn't mean THAT."

I am so not into the "freak the shit out of your students" game that so many in my field seem to enjoy. Yeah, yeah we need to develop the skills to work under pressure. All in good time my friends, all in good time! They frazzled us further by making us wait until 24 hours before the standardized patient exercise was clocked to begin before emailing us the details of the case. Our students today had to do one family history of breast cancer case, and one prenatal case involving an abnormal quad screen. Yeah, something routine like that would have been nice. For us, we were given the whopper topic of congenital myotonic dystrophy. "Yeah. . so, this is a serious condition. . and your baby may die. . and you probably carry a trinucleotide repeat. . that probably expanded when you passed it down to your child. . and you're not affected like the baby but next time you climb a ladder or shake someone's hand you may not be able to let go. So. . I wonder how you're feeling right now?"

I was the last to go out of our group, and I don't think I've ever been so nervous in my whole life. I am not kidding folks. I jumped up and down in our little student room in order to get out my jitters beforehand. I pretended the red light of the camera was not boring a laser beam into my brain. Each time one of my "judges" shuffled her paper a jolt of adrenaline shot down my spine. And when when I inquired about her coping and my actress replied by saying that she had no support system, I wanted to slap her. . for making it that much harder for me to know what the H-E-L-L to say in response to THAT. Hearing our students talk about everything they have to do in their program makes me feel so badly for them. Oh, the memories. I was there. And, thank God Almighty, I will never be there again.

09/27/2009 Weekend cat nap

Poor Major. There are some weekends when Jim and I just cannot stop ourselves from constantly infringing on his personal space when all he wants to do is sleep. We pet him, snuggle into him, twirl him around, and dangle toys in front of his face. He's just too irresistible!

I loved this sweet boy so so much.

09/26/2009 Ode to my teeth, also, why I went crazy at Express last night

My teeth have turned to mashed potato mush. Growing up, I had teeth of steel. Even after 5 years of braces (my glamour years) I had no cavities. Then two years ago I went to a new dentist for a cleaning. After much head shaking, they led me to a dimly lit room and, with soothing music playing in the background, informed me that I had SEVEN cavities. SEVEN. So many that I would need two visits to get them filled. One by one they brought up my xrays on their fancy screen. Which really wasn't necessary- OK, OK, GOT IT- I HAVE CAVITIES. I SUCK. No need to rub it in my face by pointing out the dreaded plaque burrowing through my enamel with your laser pointer. I will not lie. This kind of demoralized me.

Driving home after that appointment I called several people for moral support. Did this mean I was a bad person? Was I leading my body to an early grave? Screw it, maybe I should just start smoking and injecting illicit drugs to speed things up? Honestly, I don't understand how this has happened. Me with my fancy Sonicare toothbrush. Me with my regular flossing. Me with my love of milk. When I talked to a different dentist about it at my last visit, he gave me some truly half-assed response about how people today are getting more cavities because of our reliance on bottled water. Cool dude, except that I never DRINK bottled water (you think I'd waste my money on bottled water? pshaw! ).

My pride healed somewhat with time. But then last night I returned for another routine cleaning (what moron schedules a teeth cleaning on a Friday night? Oh wait- me) and was informed I need another THREE fillings. They even offered to fill them right then and there. While it was tempting to get this next stage of misery over with, the thought of spending my entire Friday evening with this dentist did not appeal to me one ounce. So I ran out of there (I get to go back next Thursday-yay! ) and instead met my husband at Whole Foods. Friday night was getting even better- first the dentist, then a grocery store! But holy cow has anyone been to the new Whole Foods at North Avenue and Sheffield? The original location for this Whole Foods was closed down a couple of times by the Health Department for a little nuisance they like to call a rat infestation. This new fancy store is something else. First of all, at the entrance is a BAR. Like with a mahogany finish and beer taps and flat screen tv's. And it looked like people actually met up there just for the bar- at a Whole Foods! People browse the aisles while carrying their pint glasses. Deeper into the store is a WINE bar. Again, people all dressed to the nines on a Friday night, sitting in the middle of a Whole Foods sipping wine. I would have taken pictures, but I know that Whole Foods does not enjoy that. We took a photography class last December, and two members of our class were asked to leave the local Whole Foods during one of our photography assignments. And you wouldn't want to get kicked out of this Whole Foods. No sir.

Jim had his bike with him, and after our shop we parted ways so I could head back to the dingy disgusting why-does-that-puddle-never-go-away North and Clybourn red line stop (good God if Chicago gets the Olympics, will they at least re-do the red line? ). Well, on this walk I passed the Express store on North. All I saw were red "Sale" signs. Even with that, I kept walking. Then I stopped. It may have been the failure I felt because of my teeth. It may have been the fancy feeling I felt just from walking through that beautiful Whole Foods. But my body was hit with this incredible urge to shop NOW. Buy nice clothes NOW. ON SALE. So I did a pivot turn right into that store. And of course I got one of those good sales ladies who was all, "do you need another size? have you seen our skirts are also on sale? Oh, you're looking for work clothes? Let me HELP" and doesn't make you feel like a loser for not being able to even remember the last time you bought work clothes. Jim, who stopped to get us some hamburgers from Five Guys, gets a text from me that reads "GONE SHOPPING" which is all I could manage to get out while carrying our Whole Foods eggs and oranges and my accumulating pile of clothes. And when I stumbled through our door an hour later, arms shaking from carrying my purchases, I found my hamburger warming in the oven and my wonderfully supportive husband didn't flinch a muscle when I told him how much I spent but rather told me that I needed clothes, and it was absolutely fine. And with that, I went to bed. Without flossing.

09/22/2009 The Children's Hour

The Children's Hour by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Between the dark and the daylight,

      When the night is beginning to lower,

Comes a pause in the day's occupations,

      That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me

      The patter of little feet,

The sound of a door that is opened,

      And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,

      Descending the broad hall stair,

Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,

      And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:

      Yet I know by their merry eyes

They are plotting and planning together

      To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,

      A sudden raid from the hall!

By three doors left unguarded

      They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret

      O'er the arms and back of my chair;

If I try to escape, they surround me;

      They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,

      Their arms about me entwine,

Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen

      In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,

      Because you have scaled the wall,

Such an old mustache as I am

      Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,

      And will not let you depart,

But put you down into the dungeon

      In the round-tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,

      Yes, forever and a day,

Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,

      And moulder in dust away!

We toured the Longfellow House in Cambridge, Massachusetts on Sunday and it was definitely one of the favorite parts of our Boston weekend. Not only was it the home of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, but it served as General Washington's headquarters during the British occupation of Boston for 9 months in 1775-1776. Yet another place around Boston that satisfies both your historical AND literary sweet tooth (does that make them sweet teeth? ). I mean, check out this door. This is the original door and key to the home. George Washington opened this door. He touched that actual key! And many years later Longfellow, Emerson, and Hawthorne passed through that same doorway. So cool.

The tour was only $3 and went every hour, which is why I'd rank this very highly in one's consideration of partaking in an organized tour during a Boston trip. Even if you aren't familiar with Longfellow or the historical story of the house- I think most people would enjoy this. Our tour guide looked so much like Luke Wilson. You can imagine Luke Wilson as a good tour guide, right? He was a great storyteller and magically minimized the distractions of a few people in our tour group who were just so strange! Jim said he almost text me mid-tour to say that he bet that they did each other's highlights. They were a pretty special bunch (we couldn't figure out if they were boyfriend-girlfriend or brother-sister. That ain't good).

Here is Longfellow's study (the only room he was allowed to decorate himself, we were informed! ). From there you step into the great room of the home, where the horrific accident occurred that caused Longfellow's wife's death in 1861. I consider this a fairly uplifting site, so I won't include the details. Thinking about this while standing there in those same rooms was really eerie. Afterwards, Longfellow was so grief-stricken that he remained home bound until 1868. The Cross of Snow references this picture of his wife 18 years after her death, and it still hangs over the fireplace in their bedroom. It was one of his only love poems. During those years, he began translating Dante's Divine Comedy from Italian into English. The man knew so many languages. Apparently by studying in a country for just one month he was able to learn and read the language. I consider this insane, especially when my tried and true "Hola. Me llamo Lindsay. Soy una consejera genetica de la Children's Memorial. Un momento por favor, voy a llamar un interprete" is the only thing I can muster from FOUR (count that 1-2-3-4) semesters of Spanish in college. Longfellow taught foreign languages (Italian, French, Spanish, etc) on the side to Harvard students at a time when students only learned Latin and Greek, and the beauty of it is that he proceeded with this without first getting Harvard's approval. I think I would have liked Longfellow, even if I would have failed his classes.
It took me almost all morning to regain my bearings after taking 2 days off work. Part of me feels it's sometimes not even worth it to miss work because of how much more you end up working before and after taking that time off! But then at the same moment you realize how much you'd miss if you never took these excursions. Why are we working this hard anyways? ?!

09/21/2009 Boston Field Notes from the Blatant Tourist

We just got back from a quick weekend trip to Boston! This trip was born out of happy impulse as we chilled on the couch a month ago and commented that it would be fun to jet off somewhere. We hopped online and found decent airfare at Southwest Airlines, (especially reasonable when you choose the cheapest flight with a 6 am departure time! ), got a hotel reservation on hotwire. com, and poof! , we had ourselves a vacation. It ended up being a very fun three days and I'll probably create a few blog posts as I go through our pictures. Boston is a good weekend destination and the city is very walkable. Right now, my legs hurt from all the walking around that we did. We reserved a Zipcar on Friday to take us out to Lexington and Concord, since there aren't good ways to see those areas without a car (and if you enjoy American history and literature, you can't skip out on that day trip- more to come on that). It was actually really convenient to take a Zipcar and saved us having to rent a car for the weekend, pay for parking, gas, etc. And one additional thing to pass along is that even if you don't have Zipcars where you live, you can still get an account and use the car sharing program when you travel to other cities that do have them. We brought our Garmin along and that friendly voice helped direct us through the Boston streets and highway with relative ease (which says a lot! ). For those of you who know me, you know that I can be (a) a nerd, and (b) an organizing and planning freak of nature. When we went to Disney World last year, not only did I read a huge guidebook cover to cover (in the middle of planning our wedding, mind you), but I even cut out and LAMINATED the park maps that came with the book so we could carry them with us. Here's how I see it- when you go on these types of trips, you can either stroll along with your hands in your pockets and risk missing everything you don't happen to stumble upon, or you can break out the guidebook and the map and walk around with your camera around your neck, stopping to reapply sunscreen every 3 hours. It is probably no real surprise which role I embraced, and my husband, who I'm sure rolled his eyes as he saw me prepping our touring artillery on the bed each morning, was actually quite impressed with everything we were able to take in during those 3 days. And yes, sometimes before proceeding through a cemetery or neighborhood we stopped so I could read aloud the descriptions from my little Boston book. And yes, we sometimes got side-tracked trying to find things like the plaque signifying Rose Fitzgerald's birthplace in the North End (we never did find that notice! ). But it was great to be in control of where we ventured and allowed us so much more freedom to explore away from the main circuit. With an organized tour we couldn't have done that. So there! But, I must admit, I was somewhat relieved by all the other tourists who seemed to stand out just as much as I did! ! Ha ha! My little book led us off the beaten path to this absolutely amazing cobblestone street buried in Beacon Hill. If you look closely, you can see a very lucky Golden Retriever relaxing beneath the American flag.

12/2/25- I knew I could find this pic!

09/15/2009 Gritty Pretty Chicago

Chicago is such an interesting city. So easily you walk through areas that are steeped in history yet still polished and pristine. Then, turning the corner, you find yourself surrounded by grit and rust and quickly cover your ears from the screeching brakes and brain-shattering rumble of a passing CTA train. My husband and I had a fantastic day exploring some of the area around us this past Sunday. We started off in the loop, which becomes eerily quiet during the weekend. It's even difficult to find an open restaurant! This led us to wander up to Streeterville for lunch, and from there we ambled north along picturesque Dearborn street through the Gold Coast and into Lincoln Park, inching westward to the movie theater at Webster and Clybourn for a movie and Pequods pizza (of course). The sun was shining and the weather was gorgeous.

12/2/25

I remember that these were the pictures we took on this day :)

09/03/2009 Shampoo Sarcasm

I finally went through Sunday's coupon inserts this evening. I'm not very discriminating in my coupon clipping, and will hang on to coupons for all different types and brands of products if I feel I might purchase them given the appropriate situation (see here). The whole process of purchasing goods, toiletries and cosmetics especially, can be such a racket. What makes us buy certain things? What types of gimmicks draw us in? For example, tonight I came across a coupon for Nivea Body Wash for Women. Now, what in the heck is so special about this body wash that it's better for a woman and not a man? Are we as women drawn to this entirely because it was made for us? Does our estrogen surge at the thought? Perhaps there is some gene expressed on the Y chromosome that makes a man shriek in disgust at having this as his only cleansing option in the shower. Give me a break. Keeping track of His and Hers soaps is not necessary. Life is already complicated enough!

Along these lines, I am intrigued by the language on lotions and cleansers that try to get our attention. I am currently using the shampoo that is pictured here. Underneath the word Shampoo on the bottle it says "With Liquid Crystals. " Oh my gosh! LIQUID CRYSTALS! Thank God! So, I've gone to the Pantene Pro-V website to learn more about my shampoo. This is what it says:

BRUNETTE EXPRESSIONS DAILY COLOR ENHANCING SHAMPOO Helps keep your brown hair strong against damage* Pro-Vitamin system, with prismatic shine enhancers, boosts dark brown tones by protecting against daily damage and stresses that can dull brunette
hair. Designed to protect against damaging elements for true, multidimensional brunette tones. * Gently cleans to help remove build-up and impurities in darker brown shades while leaving hair lush with moisture
Non-color depositing formula gives radiance to flat color
Moisturizing formula helps fight dryness and dullness for healthy shine and strength against damage
Pro-vitamin formula delivers moisture to the hair and gives radiance to flat color

* shampoo and conditioner vs. Pantene shampoo alone

Hmmm. But where's the part about the Liquid Crystals? How can I learn more about their skills and magic? Part 2 in looking into this- examine the bottle. Here's what is says (yes, I am typing out the description on the back of the bottle. It's a slow TV night): "Pantene Pro-V Brunette Expressions Shampoo formula with Liquid Crystals helps protect against daily damage and improves the way light interacts with your hair, bringing out depth and richness. Liquid Crystals help reveal the 3 facets of your color: tone, depth, & vibrancy. "So there you have it Ladies and Gentleman! Your answer! Albeit, I still don't truly understand what these are. But, anyways, my point is just that it's funny when you start paying attention to these things. Imagine seeing the phrase, "NOW with Ginkobalobahoba extract" on the side of a bottle of hair mousse. Someone will pick up that product, think, "ohhhh, ginkobalobahoba! I think I saw Dr. Oz talk about that on Oprah! " and then into the cart it goes. In actuality, maybe Dr. Oz mentioned ginkgo biloba and not ginkobalobahoba, and if Dr. Oz did mention it, perhaps he recommended it be administered in capsule form and not slathered over one's head. I had a great chemistry professor in college who went off on a tangent during class about how everyone wants all-organic vitamins, when we can get the equivalent benefit of a calcium supplement by eating chalk. Then he brought in a pure piece of calcium, secured a protective barrier around it, adjusted his safety googles, and told us to brace ourselves. He threw one little drop of water on the calcium and IT TOTALLY BLEW UP. It was awesome.

08/30/2009 Apparently I shouldn't have mentioned the weather

Friday turned into a fairly blustery and remarkably chilly August day and, after shivering at my desk with 2 working hours remaining, I decided to treat myself to a coffee from the hospital coffee shop. An older woman behind the counter was chatting amicably with a man and his daughter. When it became my turn, I placed my order and as the lady was ringing me up I cheerfully commented, "My goodness, it's so cold out today that I need a hot drink! " It was as though I had made some insensitive comment about childhood cancer. Everything went silent. The lady's congenial expression wiped away from her face and she blinked at me as she handed me my change. Even the clink of my quarter in the hospital donation jar did not gain this lady's approval. I slinked out of there while thinking, "What. . .? " I keep replaying the interaction in my mind and still don't get how our relationship turned so sour. Whatever happened, I guess I need to shape up in the future to improve my standing. The weather won't be getting any warmer, and I'm going to be needing some hot beverages!

08/29/2009 Chopping weather

I know many would disagree, but I have just loved the weather this summer. For those of us without the luxury of work-free summer days, these cool temps have made working in July just that much easier. Last weekend, the mornings felt so fall-like, sunny and crisp, that I expected to hear the Fox Sports football music coming across the television. I just love the fall. . the crunch of leaves underfoot, the pilling sweaters that have been worn for years, chili on the stove, and the sight of one's breath in the air for the first time. Many feel reborn in the spring. For me, the world comes to life in the fall. As the temperatures gradually dip over the next month, I look forward to making one-pot meals-stews and soups and chili. And, I have a fancy new knife to use on those carrots and celery and potatoes. We took the Knife Skills class at The Chopping Block a few months ago, and during that outing my husband treated me to a new Chroma knife. It's gorgeous. Designed by Porsche, it's got a nifty nubbin that fits under my thumb and its contours are perfect for my hand. When we have guests, all I want to do is drag them to our kitchen and say, "Let me show you my knife! " But I don't, because that might be considered odd. :-P

08/21/2009 Cone of Shame

I picked up the cat this morning and my hand happened to find a bald spot over his right hip. Tonight we've been watching him and he keeps going back to that area or his belly to lick or pull out fur. He doesn't seem to be in any pain nor is he acting differently, but still, ripping out one's fur is not associated with optimal feline mental health. Several thoughts are going through my mind: 1) This sucks, since there might be something wrong and he's never done this before, and 2) Why do our cats always acquire medical issues on Friday nights? , and 3) Why aren't we friends with any veterinarians? Why do I only know geneticists or MFM's? I am convinced that we will go to bed and wake up tomorrow to find the issue 100% resolved. In the meanwhile, I thought that it would be a good idea to seek out some preventative care, and I dug out the medical cone that we used for our cat Oliver. Major wasn't too pleased. Cat: 1, Cone (and Human): 0.

08/14/2009 Two Years Later

We had a great afternoon today at the Metropolitan Club at Sears Tower (I will not refer to it as Willis Tower, no sir), where we watched the Thunderbirds practice in prep for the Chicago Air and Water Show this weekend. Feeling the desk vibrate in a windowless office while the Thunderbirds roar overhead is enough to make anyone batty, so today I did something very unusual and left work at lunchtime to catch the practice. Sitting there absorbing the seemingly peaceful and quiet skyline (that is, after the Thunderbirds finished their run! ), I remembered where I was this same week two years ago. Let me tell you, it was far from sipping wine in the Met Grille on the 67th floor. It was this week in 2007 that I took the Genetic Counseling board exam (the actual anniversary is August 15th and 16th, thanks to my savant skills at remembering dates), for which I had been studying since January. On top of that, my husband and I trained the whole summer to complete the Chicago Distance Classic half marathon the Sunday before the board exam, raising money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society in honor of my sister, who had been undergoing cancer treatments during this time. It was a summer of hyper-discipline and diligence, with hours of training and icing sore muscles and studying late into the night. It was also the summer that my husband and I got engaged, and the time when, cruelly, we were under the happy impression that my sister's treatments had come to an end. But today, two years later, I was sipping wine and staring into the city with my husband, with my sister healthy in Kalamazoo, my running shoes dusty in the closet, and the feeling of contentment.

08/10/2009 But I don't want to!

There are some household chores that are just so annoying that we try to avoid them at any cost. Here's one of them- emptying the drying rack. Here are my thoughts on this- you cook, you clean as you go along and afterwards, and then you think you're done. But no, you're not, cuz one hour later you've got heaps of kitchenware to put away. I feel this is really, really unfair. So, to get around this, Jim and I sometimes pretend the drying rack is not already overflowing and just keep adding to it. It takes talent to get those pots and pans to balance! As I was taking these pics, Jim looked at me quizzically and asked, "What are you doing? " "I'm making a post about how much we hate putting dishes away, " I replied. "Well, let me remind you, that I've been the one putting them away recently, " he said. I think the idea of being portrayed as a dish ignorer worried him. I did not remind him that setting the clean skillets on the stove top as though that is where they belong does not technically qualify as being put away. :-) I love him. Ironically, I have no problems unloading the dishwasher. My aversions are fairly inconsistent. Join us next week as I complain about the pile of ironing I've been ignoring for the past 3 weeks.

08/08/2009 Genetic counseling nightmare!

My job as a genetic counselor can be pretty hectic at times. Thankfully the work load and stress ebbs and flows, and overall I remain content to be in the career I am. Well, Thursday night I came home and could not shake the day's work weight. To alleviate this, my husband and I went to our ole' standby, Pequods, for some pizza and beer. In our opinion, Pequods pizza is the remedy for all problems in life. Major world conflicts would be solved if only Pequods was served during negotiations. I feel strongly about this. We even went to Pequods the night we got engaged. I mean, just look at this pizza. Don't even get me started on the carmelized crust. Yum. So, I was happy again, and went to bed knowing that the weekend was not too far off. Well, standing in the shower Friday morning, it hit me out of nowhere that I had had a truly horrific, disturbing work dream overnight. Has that ever happened to you? You wake up exhausted without knowing why, and then, WHAM! you remember why you tossed and turned all night. Now this was the kind of dream that has its own chapter in a Dream book. It was the kind of dream that a shrink hears about and thinks, "yikes! " In this dream, I am at my parents' house in Michigan for a weekend. It is Saturday morning and I am still in my pajamas. Well, out of left field, my dad tells me that a former employer called saying they needed me to counsel patients for them today and oh, by the way, the patients will be arriving here any minute. A file folder of records slides across the kitchen table towards my orange juice. I feel a ball of panic rise in my gut as I flip through the records and can make NO sense of them. Are these patients coming for prenatal genetic counseling? Peds? Is it just genetic counseling, or do I also need to coordinate testing? For what conditions? What kind of doctor's office sends records like this? Then I ask, "Did they say how the heck I'm supposed to get paid? " And my dad admits he didn't ask. Well, I freak out. And as I'm freaking out, NO ONE in the house understands my distress, including my husband! They all think I am being unreasonable. What's the big deal? You'll be done by noon. We can still enjoy the day! In the middle of all of this, our phone rings and it is a family friend who starts crying to me about a family crisis. As I am on the phone with this person, our doorbell rings, and it's my first patient. "Listen, listen, I am so sorry, but I have to go, " I try explaining to the sobbing friend. I hang up and bolt upstairs to get dressed as my sister escorts this couple into our study. Thankfully at this point the dream ended, saving me the inevitable task of having to tell these patients that their HMO Illinois insurance could not be used in Michigan and that I was unqualified to perform amniocentesis procedures, which, I am sure, would have made them really, really mad. If that dream was not a sign that I needed a weekend, I don't know what is! Maybe another Pequods pizza is in order?

08/02/2009 Away from the noise

Within Chicago one can find pockets of stillness and peace within the busy hustle and bustle. Some of these spaces you don't even realize you're entering until suddenly it dawns on you - it is quiet. Yes, the occasional sirens can be heard, but they are muffled and without that shrill edge that we hear from the EMS vehicles that wail past our building. I just love these places. Deep within several neighborhoods you can also find this - the rhythmic squeak of a swing set, children's voices playing inside fenced back yards, a happy dog bark here and there, and in between, silence. The picture above is taken from Millennium Park, looking toward the brand new Modern Wing at the Art Institute of Chicago on a cold and rainy day in June.

11/9/2025 note- I don’t know what pic I had posted back then, but here is one I found on my phone that I took in 2017. I think I took this from the #3 bus, if memory serves me!

08/01/2009 Sweet Home Chicago

I woke up this morning about 6: 15am, thinking, "noooo I don't want to get up yet! " and wishing I could turn the clock back a few hours. Then the most wonderful realization set in and I literally yelled out loud, "oh my God it's Saturday! " And then we stayed in bed until 9: 30. I mean honestly, can a Saturday morning get any better than that? I got my hair cut last night and had the most interesting walk home down Diversey. For some reason the street is all backed up as I make my way home, and at Diversey and Halsted the oh-so-typical-Chicago thing happens where the lights change with a whole line of cars still stuck in the middle of the intersection. Which makes all the cars wanting to cross in the opposite direction blare their horns and curse. I, on foot, gingerly skip around the whole mess to cross the street. Then, further along Diversey, in an area we refer to as the line of dysfunction because it's where you see 75% of all the transient regulars in Lincoln Park, I pass a man that I call Lurch. Lurch is a fairly tall and skinny man whose thick black hair is always jutting out every which way beneath a blue baseball cap. He has an equally askew mustache. Lurch always gives you a friendly look as if to say, "I'm tryin' man! " but he is usually so half in the bag that I have never seen him successfully walk in a straight line. Poor guy. I get a hangover headache just looking at him. Lurch always walks down the middle of the sidewalk, so as a pedestrian walking in the opposite direction you are faced with quite the dilemma. You must choose to pass on the left or the right, knowing full well that in the middle of this execution, Lurch may make a very last minute stumble in your direction of travel, and, well. . let's just say that I have been very fortunate that I have never personally had to deal with that. I tend to choose my side, and practically run, so that Lurch doesn't fall on me. I get past Lurch unscathed, but am still confused as to why Diversey is still so backed up. Then, looking ahead to the Diversey/Clark/Broadway intersection, I see a massive collection of bikes heading north on Clark, and I instantly understand. There is this absolutely crazy group/movement/whatever in Chicago who, once or twice a month, round up thousands (I mean it- thousands) of bicyclists in the city, and basically they ride around en masse, ignoring all traffic signals, cars, pedestrians, you name it. If you go to their website, they admit that they have no singular agenda aside from demonstrating their right to assemble. The first time Jim and I encountered this group was on a Friday afternoon during our first summer here, while we were down exploring the Loop. The great thing was that the bikers going by kept yelling to those of us on the sidewalk, "Stop driving, ride your bike! " So apparently these folks did not notice that we were NOT encapsulated by steel and on four wheels. Anyways, last night I was trapped at the intersection by this group and took this picture from my cell phone: I like the guy who served as the Gandalf of the group, stopping in the middle of the intersection to allow the rest of the bikers to pass. My thought is, if people want to recruit thousands to make a statement, knock yourselves out. But what this group does is so dangerous that someone, one day, is going to get hit and killed. Drivers become so agitated having to wait (my guess is that, from start to finish, it easily takes more than 10 minutes for the entire group to pass through) and as soon as they find the smallest opening among the bikers, they try to shoot across the intersection. The bus seen in my picture kept inching further and further out looking for his opportunity to break through. I guess the cops can't do much to stop them, aside from having a cop car bringing up the rear. Finally this all came to an end so that I could cross the street and proceed with my trip. I was almost to Pine Grove when I came upon an apparent water main break, with water gushing through an opening next to a manhole and cones set up for cars to drive around the huge puddle that was forming. All of these obstacles made for a very entertaining walk home. More reasons why a) I love living in this city, and b) I love not driving in this city!

07/27/2009 I love this man

See this man? Thanks to him, I was able to come home from work, run the dishwasher, get our dinner started, and receive all my groceries at my door as my chicken cooked on the skillet. The timing could not have been better, and now thanks to Peapod, we have a stocked fridge.
In buying from Peapod and comparison shopping, there are a few things I have learned. Peapod is great for when you need basic interchangeable food items and can do most your shopping from their weekly specials list (which, be forewarned, runs from Wednesday-Tuesday, not Sunday-Saturday like most stores. I found out the hard way when I saved an order on a Tuesday night only to log in on Wednesday to find everything back to regular price). Outside of weekly specials, Peapod's prices can be a bit on the steep end, especially for meat and name-brand items like Nabisco crackers, etc. We've even come across some fruits and vegetables that we feel are expensive, whereas other produce items have come at a great price. Speaking of their produce- I've not once been disappointed. The bell peppers we've received have been gynormous (yes that's a word), and everything we've purchased has arrived very flavorful and fresh. Tonight we received some blackberries, blueberries, strawberries, cherries, cucumbers, zuchini, squash, apples, oranges, nectarines, and peaches, and they all arrived looking stellar.
Peapod also has weekly specials on non-food items, and (FINALLY! ) they ran a special on a facial cleanser for which I also had a manufacturer coupon. You just give your friendly Peapod delivery man the manufacturer coupons when he arrives, and the next day you receive an email with your adjusted total. The first few times you use Peapod you're eligible for some good store coupons (like $5 off your first order and super amazing things like that). As much as my husband and I have googled " Peapod coupon codes, " nothing has come up that is legit for us to use any longer. So, alas, no cheating with coupon codes.
And, let's please not forget one of the best parts of ordering from Peapod, which is the convenience factor. Good God there's nothing better or easier. For me, when I have what can be called a "Peapod kinda week, " the $7 fuel and delivery charge is worth every penny to not have to get in the car, slowly inch along Diversey or Wrightwood for 30 minutes, to then weave through 500 other people at the grocery store at its busiest time (which, when you don't get home until 6pm most days, is basically any time you're not at work). I have to say, that while you need to be cognizant of some of the pricing, I feel that you save oodles using Peapod because there are no impulsive purchases that have tempted each and every one of us, without fail, while walking past the display at the grocery store (ahem Scooby Doo toy in the cereal box! ). So, my vote is two thumbs up for Peapod. If you live in the Peapod-less 'burbs, I am sorry. It is a terrific benefit to have this option. However, you folk can usually zip to the store and back while reaching speeds of greater than 30 mph, which from a city dweller's viewpoint, is comparable to having super powers. Who needs grocery delivery with that?!

11/8/2025 note- Peapod went out of business like 6 weeks before the pandemic. I can’t even…

07/24/2009 Meal Planning Lament

mmmmm yummy! Homemade chicken enchilada with rice. Eh never mind. Who am I kidding? This is a Lean Cuisine. For several years I have prided myself in the fact that I have not caved in to having a frozen meal for dinner. Don't get me wrong- I am a big proponent of using a frozen meal for work lunches. And frozen pizzas for dinner I'm all about (especially Newman's Own, California Pizza Kitchen, or Gino's East frozen pizzas. Even Digiorno pizzas with the self-rising crust are good). Yet individual frozen meals, in the little plastic containers with the separate sterile side dish holders, don't exude the warmth of the social dinner experience that I so enjoy. Sadly, this week that all fell apart. With my husband away at a music festival last Sunday, I found myself with a newly organized bookcase but no plan for dinner. And so I heated up this meal that you see above. And yes, I plated it because doing so made me feel like less of a slacker. Now, I can forgive myself for this, but it happened again last night when my husband was off chasing President Obama around Lincoln Park. For the past few weeks I have fallen into a meal planning slump. Yes I posted the Jerk Chicken recipe last Friday, but that was a true anomaly compared to how I've felt for most of my dinner plannings. Heck, we even went to the grocery store a couple weeks ago WITHOUT A LIST. We walked around with my coupon book, and actually did pretty well on our produce, cereal, yogurt, and other staples, but no true meal planning was had. I guess it's been one of those months. I've been swamped at work, and that's even with having a fairly routine clinic and no complicated patient issues this week (thank goodness). In attempts to prioritize my work load, I came up with 4-5 options that all tied for the top. Wednesday evening rolled around and in considering my "to do" list I thought, Oh no, how can it already be Thursday tomorrow? ! We had family in town earlier this week, and I didn't even have munchies to set out for them! It gets worse. I laid on the couch contemplating a nap until 8: 30 this evening, when my husband and I decided that, indeed, we needed to eat. While getting ready to head out to the Mayan Palace, Dateline NBC came on with Keith Morrison. "It was a happily ever after ending. . or was it? " he squeaked. We looked at each other and decided, yes, we would rather spend our Friday evening on the couch watching an investigative report on a man who may have killed his family rather than sip margaritas on the rocks in a room full of jovial and energetic Friday night-Chicagoans. Absolutely. And so this was our dinner tonight:

11/8/25 note- I wish I knew what that dinner pic was!

07/22/2009 Oh my achin' dogs

Recently I encountered a sad fact- my body is no longer the spritely being it once was. Now, I know by saying this, many of you are thinking, "what in the heck is she talking about? She's still in her twenties! Silly girl! " But please let me explain. Growing up I was always in some type of a dance class or another and competed in highland dancing in my teens. It was great fun, and still to this day I spontaneously go into some highland step while stirring risotto on the stove or brushing my teeth (my husband's gotten used to the sudden thumping from the next room, and I'm sure our downstairs neighbors love it). Back in March of this year, I started taking lessons at the Old Town School of Folk Music in Irish dance, a new style of dance for me that is similar to Highland in some respects but also very different (and at least my arms get a break). New steps! New dance shoes! Well, at dance 3 weeks ago, I pulled a muscle. Badly. It wasn't too sore afterward, but a few days later I irked it further by whatever goofy way I got up off the couch (typical) and OWIE it hurt like crazy! I tried jumping on it and just couldn't, and as a result had to miss 2 weeks worth of classes (which I paid for in advance, so it's painful in more than one way). Anyways, my realization is that I probably should no longer be doing random highcuts without stretching first. I am slowly becoming the tin man, and need extra oiling.

07/19/2009 ROY G BIV IT UP!

I've always loved beautifully organized bookshelves. Bookshelves are such a focal point in a room, and as a renter, rearranging your bookcase is really the biggest decorating outlet you have (without risking losing your security deposit! ). Quite a while ago, the Red Eye Chicago featured a "how to spruce up a small space" article, and one of their suggestions was to color-coordinate the books in your bookshelf. I've been strongly considering it ever since and this afternoon decided to take the plunge! Come to find out through doing a Google search that this is a newer trend and a lot of people have done some really cool bookcase makeovers using this technique. My friend Kim didn't think she could do it because her collection is so large and she likes organizing her books by topic. I can definitely see where this technique wouldn't work for those die-hard book fans. My husband and I don't hang on to every book that we read (it's rare now for us to buy books from the bookstore instead of getting them used or from the library) and recently in an effort to de-clutter, we rid ourselves of many of our books, which honestly felt great! Some people have told us that they could never get rid of their books. I think I felt that way once upon a time, but living in a teensy space for this long has prompted me to try to shed as many of our possessions as possible (don't get me started on my husband's magazines! ). Perhaps after we've moved into our mansion we'll work on building up our library again: -)

I can’t find a pic from when we color coded our bookcase in 2009, but I did find this one from 2017 (with our cat Grady) where you can see we were still shelving by color.

07/15/2009 Mrs. Literal

Over time, I have become incredibly literal, so much so that I almost consider it a handicap now. I don't think I was always this way. The past 5 years of genetic counseling training and work has made me into some type of detail-oriented monster that has no business considering alternative solutions to what is already staring me in the face. As my husband frequently says, "it is what it is." I've just taken it to a whole new level. Don't even bother giving me a crossword puzzle to do. I'll just end up staring at it forever, putting it down occasionally to clear my head, then picking it back up a few hours later to see if some magical power has allowed my mind to become more flexible in the interim. It never works, and after I've cheated by looking up the answer, I can't believe I couldn't think of the solution. Once my mind gets locked onto a possibility, it doesn't budge. We're (happily!) going to the Billy Joel/Elton John concert tomorrow evening at Wrigley Field. Upon telling this to my friend, she exclaimed, "Oh my gosh that's awesome! I'm so jealous! Where are your tickets? "They're in our safe," was my reply. I must have inherited this from my grandmother. There's a famous family story about a presidential election night back in the 1940's. My grandmother's very politically minded father-in-law yelled out from the kitchen, "How did Oklahoma go?" My grandmother took a deep breath and sang, "Oaaaklahoma where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain!”