Unique and Courageous

Just The Way Mothers Are

2008-05-08T13:30:00.000-07:00

My father is many things, but the one thing he is not is a phone person. He can write a beautiful letter, or thoughtful card and I have held on to the ones he has given me through the years. He will be happy to engage in conversation in person while choosing his words wisely and with care while sitting across from you at a coffee shop...but he is not a phone person. This isn't a complaint, nor would I deem it a negative trait that I have noticed...it is just an observation. A truth about who he is, which I have come to accept.

In the 5 years that I lived away from my family I kept in touch mostly through my frequent conversations over the phone with my mother. It was in those conversations that the details of my life and the lives of my parents would be shared...and everyone would be kept "in the loop". My dad and I would chat briefly every 2-4 weeks for roughly 10 minutes. Each time he would ask if I was happy, and make sure that at the end of the ten minutes, right before he said the words "I'm done" in a matter-of-fact kind of way, that he loved me, and was praying for me. And then he would pass the phone off to my mother. Even though our conversations were brief and relatively infrequent, I never doubted his love or care. This was our routine. In fact, this was our routine for 5 years...with one exception - when mom went out of town.

I remember it pretty clearly, mom had gone on an excursion to England for about 2 weeks, leaving dad home alone, and me in Calgary without my daily phone call. I called one evening to say hello to my dad, and in that conversation a small miracle happened: my dad and I held a 27 minute phone conversation. I remember this because he pointed it out to me nearing the end of our conversation after looking at the screen on the phone detailing the length of call. We were both impressed, with ourselves and eachother. And suddenly realized that a new door had been opened - father and daughter could have long conversations on the phone together. Later that evening I was wondering why or how we had found ourselves in an extended conversation with eachother, and then realized that in the absence of my mother keeping us informed of what was going on, or listening to what was going on we were left with a void. Turned out that evening we were able to step in to that void for eachother, and listen and share with the other person.

It's quite a few years from that 27 minute conversation...and my father and I have had many more conversations of a similar length over the phone, each time still celebrating their length before he signs of with his "I'm done." And even though I now live in the same city as my family again, I still frequently talk with my mom, and we still share the events of our day with one another. My parents have been out of town this week, so I am finding myself at a loss for someone to listen to the slightly insignificant and tedious parts of my day - the stuff that my mom usually listens to. Without my mom, I have noticed, I am finding myself unusually chatty about insignificant details of my day with other people in my life, and fear that they think there might be something wrong with me. Whereas, my mother would know this is just who I am, how I go about my day, and for some strangely glorious and comforting reason enjoys hearing about it.

There's a book I used to read when I was a child. It was called "That's Just The Way Mothers Are". In it, the child in the story repeatedly messes things up, gets in trouble, or does silly things, but every time the mother is there loving him and supporting him because "that's just the way mothers are". The conversations shared between me and my mom are more than just opportunities to share my day, they are precious spaces held between myself and her where she still makes her daughter of 28 years feel valued, loved and important. Where the words "I'm proud of you" come with such weight and importance that simple decisions are elevated, and a sense of self-worth is imparted. It is a space that brings the lives of every member of our family together...it is a space held by the love of a mother...because that's just the way mothers are. And I am SO thankful for the way my mother is.

Apparently I Found a Soapbox

2008-03-12T15:22:00.000-07:00

I am boycotting Oprah. I won't deny that I have been an avid viewer in the past, but no more!! I have found myself shocked and angered by topics being shared on her show as of late, that make me wonder what we are doing for our fellow women, or fellow human beings all together.

For example, there was the episode that highlighted the "philanthropic" actions of North American women who paid impoverished women in India to be the surrogate mothers of their children. It was sold as a "win-win" situation: the North American woman gets her long desired child, meanwhile generously providing the Indian woman with what would be seen as a large amount of money that would be able to provide them with the means to move up in life and provide for her family. These actions were celebrated by Oprah and her audience, with NO mention of the possibility that this was in fact exploitation of another woman done under the guise of providing the beautiful gift of life for another woman. Are we really helping one another here?

Then there was the last episode I watched a few weeks ago while on my dinner break at work. It highlighted the life of a middle age "exotic dancer" and single mother of two, who was applauded for her ability to only work 3 nights a week so that she could spend more time with her children and be available for them. When asked how she felt about how the families of her children's friends might react negatively after the airing of the show, she responded that she had lived too many years caring about what other people thought about how she lived her life, and appeared totally comfortable with the idea that this might negatively impact her children. My heart broke. It broke for the lives of these two kids, and it broke for this mother, who was so misguided. How, I wondered, are you helping your children, by exploiting yourself, for the pleasure of men? How are you loving your daughter, and showing her that she deserves a man who respects her - for her and not her body??? How is this behaviour applauded?

What concerns me even more, is the vast amount of people (mostly women) who watch these shows, and take the word of Oprah as gospel, and live it out in their lives, therefore impacting the lives of their children. And my heart breaks again. Who will stand up for these girls? Who will be their role models? Who will help shape their moral identities, sense of self, and value as young women?

I have been blessed with knowing many beautiful women in my life. Women who inspired, and shaped me into who I am. From camp counsellors as a little girl who showed our little cabin of scrawny 8 year olds, that we were beautiful, and valued, and special. Then there were youth leaders, like Rachel Richmond, who's joyful faithfulness in serving managed to show me at an early age what walking with God looked like in real life, in a real woman, who was beautiful in all ways. And my sister-in-law, who has probably shaped me more than I know, as she's been in my life longer than she hasn't been. It was she that instilled in me that I was worthy of a prince, a mantra I have shared with many a girlfriend, and that there is something beautiful in the girl who can handle herself on the sports field in the afternoon and feel stunning in heels that night! I have heard how my mother impacts the lives of the people she works with, by simply being herself, in her soft yet strong, steadfast way, and know without a doubt that has shaped how I live out my faith. I have watched women serve in the community, giving of their time and skills to bless those around them. I have seen the hospitality of women opening their homes and kitchens to however many people they could ask, not to be restricted by the size of their table or dining room.

These are the women that need to be applauded. These are the lives that need to be highlighted. And not because of the effect that they have had on me, but because it is women like these who change the world, and selflessly bring light to those around them, just by being who they are...everyday. And it is these women to who I am eternally grateful.

A Hopeful Romantic?

2008-01-27T23:44:00.000-08:00

My friend called me the other night to make a request. She had plans of lying low for the evening and watching chic flicks to relax from a crazy week. It was with those plans in mind that she called me before heading to the video store thinking I would be able to provide a selection of appropriate chic flick choices. And her thinking was correct...I confess that I do have a large selection of such movies, as I have a tendancy to watch movies repeatedly (read: more than 1/2 a dozen times), so I have developed a bit of a girlie movie library. So, why, thought my friend, go to Pic-a-Flic when I can borrow from the Elise library? Unfortunately all movies have been packed, with the exception of three standards: Meet Joe Black, Sense and Sensibility, and Pride and Prejudice. I had to keep some out...in case of movie-watching emergencies.

So far there have been no movie-watching emergencies, as my cable has been providing appropriate movies for my mood. For example, I found myself taking tonight off to relax before venturing into the upcoming craziness that will be the week o'moving, and settled down to watch "Little Women" with my tea, and latest knitting project (oh, I am so 28 going on 70!). Blame it on the under 5 hours of sleep that I got post-night shift, but I found myself a little more sensitive than usual to the emotional moments of the story (I was a bit of mess by the time Jo came back to see Beth before she...well...you know the story). Anyways, I couldn't help but remember how when I had first seen the movie, and I must have been 14 or 15, and being completely incensed when Jo turned Laurie's marriage proposal down, and then she went and married the old, German philosophy professor. I didn't get it at all!! All I remember about that first viewing, was being terribly dissappointed with the ending.

I had a similar reaction to Sense and Sensibility when Marianne ended up with Colonel Brandon. "Colonel Brandon. Seriously?" I thought. "Oh but he's old, and talks weird and creepy-like!! Not nearly as dreamy as Willoughby, scandalous as he may be."

And now, with twice as much life experience under my belt and it's accompanying perspective and insight, my heart swells at the endings of these two great stories. And I can recognize, maybe like Jo did, that the easiest or most obvious choice isn't always the best choice. And sometimes love surprises us in unexpected places, and from unexpected people.

I look forward to the day when I am surprised by love. And maybe that's what keeps me watching these stories repeatedly...the hope for that day.

I just let out a contented sigh. I'm pretty sure this designates me as your classic, hopeless romantic...or more correctly a hopeful romantic. And I'm okay with that.

The End of an Era

2008-01-21T15:41:00.000-08:00

There are about a million other things I should be doing right now. Things like laundry, and sorting my kitchen utensils, packing the various and sundry things that fill my closets to overflowing, and filling out my change of address forms, just to name a few...but yet I'm here. I'm here writing. I think I'm going through paper-writing withdrawl, and my fingers don't know what to do with themselves...that, and I'm feeling especially reflective as the end of an era approaches: the Era of the Apartment of Greatness.

I had an apartment in Calgary for almost three years that I shared with Andrea. It was my first apartment, and so even with it's lack of style, stark white apartment walls, tiny kitchen, and possibly the ugliest bathroom I've ever known, I loved it. It was a sign of growing independence, and it was mine...in all it's ghetto glory. We neighboured an adult video store, and across the street was a liquor store, and our "recycling program" was leaving bottles out for the homeless guy we heard coming as his grocery cart rattled down the alley-way. It was great...but a little awkward when giving directions to our place to friends after church "You'll approach the liquor store on the right, and then just turn left at the XXX video store and we're right there". And when Andrea and left our little 900sq foot pad of memories, I knew it was the end of an era, and that there would many stories that started with "This one time in our apartment..."

When I moved back to Victoria, my only criteria in finding a place to live was that it be a quirky apartment, with a coffee shop close by, and within walking distance of the ocean. If you look over my patio wall you will see 3 coffee shops, all within a block, and just 4 more blocks down there is the beach, and I'm not sure if you can get much quirkier than the little apartment above the dry cleaners. I've started to pack up my things, and find myself packing up memories, and patterns of life, as Kendal and I wonder who we will come home to and say "You'll never guess what happened?!?!"

If I was a poetic soul, I would write an Ode To The Apartment of Greatness. It would include a few lines about the patio that was almost as big as the apartment itself. Maybe a quick mention of spiderman themed patio-pool with "swim-up bar" (also known as the 2 ft patio table). There would be a whole verse about the breakfast nook, with it's retro cushions (thank you, Tricia). There would have to be mention of the smell of cinnamon buns baking that would waft up from the bakery next door. And definitely a line or two about how most days you could smell the ocean upon walking out the door. There would be a lamenting verse or two about the tribulations of sugar-ant infestation, and about the ridiculous levels of heat experienced in the summer as the steam floated upward from the cleaners. And finally it would end with a verse celebrating all the gatherings of friends and family that the little apartment had seen; the friends from far and wide; the impromptu dance parties; the sleep overs under the Christmas tree; the meals big and small; the laughter heard...

It would be a lovely Ode...if only I was a bit more poetic...

Where is Chaka Khan when you need her?

2008-01-06T21:40:00.000-08:00

After a beautiful and wonderful holiday time spent with family, dear friends...and patients, I have been able to have a few days off before venturing to the ICU as a full fledged Critical Care Nurse (which means I passed my course...woo hoo! Insert a bowing me here). Last evening after a day spent with some of my favorite people, I had a night all to myself. By 9 o'clock I was in my christmas penguin flannel pj's and threw on a cardigan to stay warm in our very chilly apartment. As I was putting on my cardigan, I had a sudden realization that I looked quite similar to a brunette version of Bridget Jones in one of the scenes from the movie, and laughed to myself as I turned on the tv only to find Bridget Jones was on! Brilliant - How perfect!! (Just so you know, I said that last line with a British accent!)

As I watched, I found a few more similarities with myself and Bridge last night, beyond our unfortunate yet comfy outfits. There is a scene in the movie where Bridget is picking herself up from the disappointment of the devastingly handsome yet cheating Daniel, and she puts on the song "I'm Every Woman" sung by none other than Chaka Khan, and proceeds to start changing her life for the better.

I am having one of those Chaka Khan moments...without the vodka...and without the reason of a horrible cheating boyfriend...so maybe the parallels between me and Bridge are limited...but I'm okay with that.

I keep waiting for the song to break out overhead as I look at the exciting things this new year holds. Tomorrow I start my new job. A position I have just finished almost a year a half preparing for. Later this month I will move into my own place, sans le roommate. It must be noted, that I do LOVE my roommate - she is fabulous, as most of my 13 roommates have been, but it's just time to venture on my own. And of course there are the New Year's Commitments I have made (please note, I did not say "resolution"...semantics, I'm sure...but New Year's Resolutions have such a non-commital connotation to them) that include healthier living and a more purposeful and positive existence (note to reader: vagueness intended. I can't be telling everyone this kind of stuff!).

So here's to 2008...as corny as it sounds, I really do believe it's going to be great! And if you see me smiling and bobbing my head to music that isn't there...I'm probably "hearing" Chaka Khan, so feel free to sing along!

Happy New Year, Friends!

Elliptical Adventures

2007-11-15T22:22:00.000-08:00

I am all for fall. It is my favorite season for many reasons. But the top 3 reasons would have to be: 1) the bringing out of sweaters and scarves; 2) the drinking of hot beverages while wearing sweaters and scarves; and, 3) walking in crunching golden leaves with multicolored ones above, drinking a hot beverage wearing a sweater and scarf. sigh. Love it.

On the other hand, I do not love our recent fall weather, what with the raining, and the cold, and the darkness. I have caught myself wanting to go for a run outside recently, but fear for my life with wind warnings along Dallas Road (my favorite running spot)...so, I have denied myself the desire to exercise...UNTIL this week! This week I joined the YMCA (insert YMCA song here). I'm very excited. I've never belonged to gym before, so I'm feeling very young, urban, and professional-like.

So far I've only gone twice. The first day I was feeling a little too proud to ask people where everything was, so I thought I would find things myself. I thought I was following the signs for the "cardio centre" correctly when I stumbled upon the 3 pieces of cardio equipment in the area occupied by large weight machines, and equally large 'Roid Boys in their 20s. I confess I did wonder why there were only 3 machines, and why I was the only girl in the area...but it didn't stop me from climbing on the elliptical trainer and hitting play on my iPod as I started my much anticipated workout. About 3 minutes into my session I noticed a sign...just letting people know that these machines were for the people that were unable to make it up the stairs to the regular cardio centre. If I hadn't been surrounded by the 'Roid Boys I would have nervously laughed aloud...but instead I kept going until I'd finished five minutes, what I deemed an appropriate "warm-up" (although unintentional), purposefully left the boys behind and found my way to the real "cardio centre".

I figured today would be a little less awkward now that I knew where I was going. And for the most part it was...until I climbed up the elliptical again and hit play on my iPod...all was fine (being in the appropriate area, and all) until Scissor Sisters came on. Specifically, "I Don't Feel Like Dancing". I don't know about you, but whenever I hear this song I TOTALLY feel like dancing. Some of my favorite memories are dancing to this song (e.g., having an impromptu dance party at my house with my nephews and niece (I'd be happy to give a demonstration of Andrew's moves...they're legendary) and dancing at my friend Laura's wedding). I LOVE that double clap bit. Anyways - deep love for the song, and the dancing effect it has...that is until I was on the elliptical and all of a sudden I was trying to keep in time to the song and keep up with my pace....next thing you know I'm all out of sorts, somehow completely losing allllll rhythm, practically falling off and needing to stop my activity, regroup, and start again. Right after I pressed fast forward to the next song.

Seriously - Scissor Sisters should come with a warning: "Dance-ability of songs may cause injury...especially to the rhythmically challenged"

Out of curiousity...what do you listen to when you're workin' out? I need to find a new song...for my own safety.

Procrastination, Thy Name is Elise

2007-11-09T16:20:00.001-08:00

I have a paper due in 3 days. I spent most of my morning sitting at the computer attempting to research for said paper....only to find myself looking at everyone else's blogs, facebook, checking my email repeatedly and trying to diagnose the nagging sick feeling I've had in my stomach for the last 3 weeks (don't worry...mayoclinic.com cofirmed that it's not cancer. phewph.)

By afternoon I had finally narrowed down my topic, and actually had some ideas that I could use (it's a comparison of the leadership found in critical care and acute care settings and how this affects job satisfication...just incase you were wondering). But this all came after a trip to London Drugs...really all I needed was shampoo (to avoid the greasy, paper-writing-student-look)...but felt it imperative to go up and down EVERY isle (at least once...twice for the toiletries and make-up). So - not only did I find the shampoo I needed, I became aware of "needing" (and I do use the term lightly) the following: a lipgloss that can go on my keychain, an eye-shadow compact, mousse, a set of multi-coloured pens, lined note-paper, chocolates, a fancy dust rag, an US weekly (that was supposed to be my "treat" after working on my paper all day), face wash and sparkling water.

Of course after I got home from London Drugs I had to make some lunch...and you can't have a lunch break and work at the same time. So I ate my lunch, and while that was digesting (because, heaven forbid, I work on my paper with a full stomach) I started to fix my latest knitting project while simultaneously watching a Friend's re-run.

And now, here I am back at the computer...obviously NOT working on my paper...but I'm getting close. I have opened a word document, and I'm just preparing myself for the genious-ness to start pouring out ...

but I think I better go get something to drink first...

The Power of the Red High-Heels

2007-11-07T23:23:00.000-08:00

You know life is good when I can break out my favorite pair of red high-heels TWICE in one week. sigh. Life is rich. Note: I did not say I am rich...just life. (And that's why I'm holding out to marry for money, because my uncle always said "Marry for money, love will come later"...but he also used to lick my face...so maybe his advice isn't the advice I should be heeding.)

I just spent the night out with some friends from work who I hadn't seen for some time because of my current full-time study schedule. We met up at Glo - a very urban, italian inspired, place on the Gorge (made me feel like I was in another city - I LOVE that!) to celebrate a birthday, catch up, and dream up our next few little adventures. It's always good to get together with familiar friends, especially during a time when so many of my days are filled with the unfamiliar. Unfamiliar staff members, unfamiliar environment, unfamiliar information...all this to say it was a welcomed reprieve. Comforting even. Isn't that amazing? Isn't it amazing how just the company of warm, familiar faces brings comfort to the soul, not to mention combining it with good conversation (and, even better, a fabulous meal) . Oh I am thankful for these people in my life. Especially during this time of change.

PLUS I'm thankful for a reason to get all dressed up and enjoy a night out! It doesn't take much to convince me to bring out the high-heels and hairspray to have a fun night on the town, but it's funny how it does take some planning. A good friend of mine and I have adopted the practice of the "Urban Summit"(an homage to the Bridget Jones Urban Summit). We're both single, young, professional, and rather fun-loving women...currently without men to take us out and about, so we take ourselves out. It usually involves either fabulous food or the arts (recently the opera "Indomeneo"...fabulous...apart from the female mezzo-soprano playing the role of a prince...but I digress) or better yet, BOTH!

The Urban Summit is a fabulous concept, especially for the single and fabulous female - although, I would recommend it to anyone (married-types included). Everyone needs an excuse to bring out their own version of red high-heels...because sometimes, just like a good friend, they too, bring comfort to the soul.

A Thankful Remembering

2007-10-06T23:37:00.000-07:00

I love Thanksgiving. Somewhere along the way, it has become one of my most favorite holidays...and I'm pretty certain it's not just the fabulous turkey dinner that does it for me. I remember coming home for one Thanksgiving in particular. My parents had bought a new cd called The Greater Vancouver Music Album while in Vancouver the month before, and the cd had been playing much of the day while we prepared the meal, and sat down to enjoy it later in the evening. The day played out like a movie with the music in the background, framing this idyllic Thanksgiving moment. To this day when I hear that cd play (as I am doing now), I think of that Thanksgiving weekend. And although that was a great thanksgiving moment...it's not quite my favorite.

My favorite was about 6 Thanksgivings ago. I was living in Calgary, and in my third year of nursing. My boyfriend at the time was going to be coming out to visit, and we were going to spend Thanksgiving together. It was going to be great. Until we broke up a week before. It was the right thing to do, for both of us...but even with that knowledge it didn't take away the sadness and loneliness in my heart. I remember trying to find a way to get back to Victoria for the weekend on 5 days notice, trying desperately to avoid a terribly lonely thanksgiving. Alas, there would be no trip to the island to spend the holiday with family, there was no boyfriend...it was not looking good. But, quite unexepectedly, that Thanksgiving would become one of my most treasured.

Andrea, my roommate and long time friend, and I decided we would do our own Thanksgiving. We bought a couple of turkey breasts, got our favorite recipes from our mothers for vegetables and sweet potatoes, set the table with flowers and candles, invited another family-less friend over for dinner, and proceeded to have one of the best Thanksgiving dinners I have ever had. It wasn't gourmet, and I could probably speak for both of us by saying that our culinary skills have improved drastically since then...but it didn't matter. We had made our own Thanksgiving.
Maybe it was the taste of independence. Maybe it was that I realized in that moment that family now extended beyond "relatives". Or maybe it was the recognition of the undeniable blessings that surrounded me, despite my loneliness.

From that year on Thanksgiving became the holiday to spend amongst friends who felt like family. This year my parents are in Winnipeg spending it with the rest of our extended family, and me - well - I'm spending it with new Thanksgiving "family". Serving a slightly more elaborate meal than that first one Andrea and I cooked up that Calgary autumn weekend...but remaining ever thankful for the undeniable blessings that surround me.

Thermodynamics, shmermodynamics

2007-08-28T22:13:00.000-07:00

I am not a neat person by nature. It's true. Some people I know find this surprising - I suppose, I may give the "air" of someone who is neat and tidy. That air is incorrect. (Note: by neat, I do not mean clean...I figured that this was an important clarification to make!) I remember in Grade 11, my chemistry teacher was teaching us about the Laws of Thermodynamics. I don't remember the 1st or 3rd law, but the second went something like this (to any chemists or physicists out there, forgive me for butchering the exact laws of thermodynamics) - Entropy, or the level of disorder, always increases. To explain this, he offered that we could use it as an excuse for our parents who would nag us to clean our messy rooms by simply saying "I'm just following the second law of thermodynamics". I realize this story proves my, how do you say, nerdiness - but it's one of the few things from that high school chemistry lab room that has stuck with me all these years.

I am constantly at war with my "increasing entropy" tendencies. And I will confess, that it hasn't been until this year that I have actually made conscious effort to make my bed...everyday. I started doing it because I figured if I can make the beds of my patients' at work everyday, I can certainly make my own. And as I departed on this journey towards tidiness I began to realize a few things - Elise's Laws of Tidiness, if you will.

Law One was that with the tidy bed (occupying a good 30% of my room) suddenly the rest of my room stayed moderately tidy. Which, goes completely against our second law of thermodynamics! Tidiness (or order), in fact, was actually increasing!! Take that, Physics!

The Second Law, was that the amount of tidiness was directly proportionate to the chaos of my life. For example, once I started taking a few moments to remain tidy/organized in my room, it would somehow lend towards being more organized in other parts of my life - including homework, errand running, managing of my social calendar and personal appointments, and even finances. On the flip side, if my room became messy, you could pretty much bet somewhere else my life was messy. Interesting, though, how this little effort of being tidy prompted me towards better living, one could even say more godly living.

I just finished spending a good part of my day thoroughly cleaning my room, going through my closets and dresser to get rid of old clothes...a sort of delayed spring cleaning. Admittedly, it had been messy for a while (apart from the made bed) - there had been a lot of chaos as of late (mostly good chaos - family vacation, friends visiting, day trips, and in between all the fun, 12 hour shifts at work). But I'm ready for the tidiness to take over.

Thermodynamics, shermodynamics.

Where from your family?

2007-07-26T14:16:00.000-07:00

I had an older, fiesty, Romanian patient this week. He's lived in Canada since the 1960s but still carries a strong accent, and strong eastern european personality! After having him as my patient for 3 days, and knowing only my first name, he asked me, in his delightful Romanian accent (Note to reader: incorrect grammar intended)"Where from your family in europe? Where your father and mother come from?" I giggled at his question, knowing he had recognized some of my treasured slavic traits, and said "Well, my dad's parents are from the Ukraine/Poland area..." "AHA!" he exclaimed. And circling his face with his hand, he said "I could tell...I can see it!" Not to forget my british heritage that I hold dear, I interjected "Ah, but my mom was born in England!" "No matter!" he said. "It's always you are who your father is. Generation after generation - it comes from the father." I told him my last name was Michalski, and he then listed the names of his doctors: Bozinovski (which he pronounced "Bozonovski") and Novak...somehow pleased for his medical team of eastern european heritage all the way over here in Victoria, BC Canada.

It had me wondering, wondering about my real heritage. I know little of where my family came from, only tidbits really. And it's a treasured heritage, because it's mine. It's the heritage that has me greeting my Ukrainian patients with the few short Ukrainian phrases that I know (translated they are: "How are you?" "Very Good" "Praise God!" "I want to eat" "I want to sing"...and then I tell them that my grandpa was a pastor of a Ukrainian church...and it all comes together!). It's is the heritage that has me telling my proper English patients that my mom was born in England, or my grandma was born in Wimbledon, and was a war bride...and instantly we have bonded over a love for a good cuppa', reverence for the monarchy or appreciation of English countryside.

If only I knew more...

I think I'm going to call my grandparents now, or maybe write them a letter, and see if they might tell me of their heritage...of my heritage.

The Summer I Was Adopted

2007-07-11T21:26:00.000-07:00

It's ridiculously hot out. 36 degrees celsius...and I'm sure my apartment is about 3 degrees hotter...no exaggeration. oy. To cool down I decided to head to the beach today, figuring the breeze off the cool ocean waters would do me some good...and the sun might help me even out my tan! So to Willow's Beach I went with my towel, latest Real Simple issue, iPod, book and water bottle in tow. Sporting my latest purchase from Coombs - a sun hat that makes me feel like I belong in the Hampton's, I settled into my chosen sandy spot, with a piece of drift wood as my backrest. Sigh. Sweet, west coast beach.

As I settled in for my 20 minute pre-sunscreen bask, my mind was flooded with memories of the summer I was adopted. If you know me well, you may find yourself raising a quizzical eyebrow at this statement...but bear with me.

It was the summer I was 12 years old. The daughter of two working parents, and sister to a 17 year old brother only interested in anything to do with his girlfriend, I was set to have a summer of trying to entertain myself. How was it that those 8 weeks felt like an eternity? 8 weeks of endless possibility. Until I realized it was a little tricky trying to get anywhere on my own as a 12 year old. I remember watching a lot of Matlock during those summer mornings of carefree adolescent laziness...until my summer days were rescued by my adoptive family - The Blackstocks.

The Blackstocks were having a bit of a family reunion that summer, with aunts, uncles and cousins from all over BC coming to play hard on the Island...and fortunately for me, I got to be a Blackstock for the summer. Everyday was a new beach to be discovered, a new park to take captive, and new games to play. Breaking mid-day we would dive into the feast prepared by Mrs. Blackstock - only to run back into the water, with no thought of waiting one hour for our food to settle. Sitting on buoyant drift wood in the freezing ocean waters, unaware that we had lost the feeling to our lower limbs - we had found true summer happiness. Every evening I would run home rigaling my parents with the adventures of the day.

I don't know how long their family was in town, but I do know that I will often equate summer beach time in Victoria with the summer I was adopted by the Blackstocks. There is a photograph somewhere of Kirsten and I sitting on a log, backs to the camera, faces towards the ocean, daydreaming, I'm sure, of the rest of our summer plans and adventures...as sisters might do. It was the perfect summer.

hello my name is...

2007-06-22T13:40:00.000-07:00

I confess. There's no hiding it. I love the big box stores. I love them. I love heading out into suburbia and perusing the over-sized stores in search of good deal. I love the vaulted warehouse ceilings of Cost-Co, and its lack of decor and personal style. It's as though I can breath easier inside the large buildings, while chomping on my hotdog in search of a sample suitable for dessert. sigh. I love them. BUT...not as much as I love the small independent business, nestled away in a side street of downtown Victoria. Where you inevitably find one of the same two or three people working behind the counter, excited to share with you their treasures which they seem to be so passionate about.

Today's adventure was Munro's Book Store on Government Street. Oh, how I love Munro's. So much so, I'm tempted to swear off Chapter's and other big box bookstores. I am a moderate reader. I am not someone who ingests a book within days, nor have I read many classics. I do have my favorites, though. For instance, everytime I am perusing the fiction section I check to see if there is any Madeleine L'Engle books. I am pretty sure I have read all of her books written for adults, but I always search with the hope that there might be one tucked away betwen a chic-lit novella and period romance. Alas, today there was nothing. But it won't stop me from checking next time I go in.

I immediately feel more intelligent upon steping inside the store, my breathing slows down, I hear the classical music playing softly in the background, and the ritual begins: the Munro's perusal. It begins at the new releases, and then to the Canadian fiction, general fiction, cook books, biographies and non-fiction and climaxes at ...drum roll, please...the discount table. Glorious, crisp, hard cover books, 12 months ago sitting at the new release stand have suddenly become available for only $6.99! heaven. I walk around the tables repeatedly, each time my arms become more full of purchase possibilities. Generally, I'm afraid to say, avoiding anything that has "Oprah's Bookclub" stamped across it...mostly because I just think she has to much power over what we already deem "Our" favorite things.

Unfortunately, here in lies my second confession...85% of the books I pick up are chosen because of their cover. Hello, my name is Elise, and I judge books by their cover. The only exception to this pattern of my superficial behaviour, is if I know the author already...for instance, the Douglas Coupland novel I bought the last time I was at Munro's (It was called "Eleanor Rigby", by the way...a curious, west coast, post-modern novel - if you're interested). I don't know what I would have done 100 years ago, when there were no design teams around to create the perfect font for every book, or find the best illustration to catch the reader's eye at the new release stand. I probably would've chosen them by color of cover...reading only purple and navy books, or something bizarre like that.

If I may, I will take a moment to make a small argument for the person, such as myself, who finds themselves being drawn to books by their cover. For it is not only the artwork and layout and font that attracts me, it is the tone of all of these things put together. Which I am sure the advertising and sales teams devoted to each author by their publishers are paid to do...but, I will be the first to admit...it works. Now - all this being said, I do not choose a book strictly by it's cover...I will flip through the pages, read an excerpt here and there, and see who's reviewed it and what they've said. So, I guess I'm not completely superficial...maybe, just a little bit.

In any case, I am going to go read my new book now ("Hatbox Letters", hardcover which I purchased for a mere $6.99!!!)....

A Sweet Homecoming!

2007-06-13T13:05:00.001-07:00

It's been over a year and a half since I have visited my beloved university home of Calgary! A year and a half!!! Thankfully, my dear friend Laura gave me good reason to come a visit...her wedding!! What a treat to celebrate Laura and Blair's wedding with them...and not only that - But to be in their wedding (bridesmaiding stint #6! I am very close to becoming an expert!)! It was a FABULOUS day! A little hot (29 degrees celsius!), but otherwise perfect! Beautiful ceremony, fun photoshoot...umm...photo session, and great reception/dance party!

Now, one might think that would be enough excitement...but oh, no! There was more to be had! Like reuniting with my dear friend, Heather Mowat (thanks to Facebook!), for a little breakfast at Nellie's (my favorite breakfast place...EVER!).

Aaaaand staying at the lovely Chez Andrea (my favority Calgary B&B), and dining with her, Darcie and Nicole at a FABULOUS new restaurant in Kensington with deligtful authentic Italian pizza, reminiscent of our time in Rome...but without the sardines and arugula this time (love it when the menus are in english!)

Then, of course, there was the inaugral Urban Summit - Calgary Chapter, with Amy and Alida, hitting the downtown scene on Wednesday night...now those will be some fabulous memories!

The rest of my days were filled catching up over many a coffee at Starbucks throughout the greater metropolis of Calgary, with more dear friends, like Teresa, Brad and Samantha. Oh I do love my Calgary home! But I left feeling like, for now, Victoria is the home for me. And that was a good feeling to part with!

I left my stethoscope(?) in San Francisco

2007-06-13T12:39:00.000-07:00

Note to self: Must start setting time aside in schedule for regular blogging, so as to avoid two blog entries in one day.

FRIENDS! I confess, I have wanted to blog for almost a month now, but have been finding it hard to make the time between my lengthy hours spent on crackbook...err...um...facebook. So, I am going to reach back a few weeks now and relive possibly THE BEST day of my nursing career to date!

It all started at 4 pm one day, after I had returned home from my first mystic tan of the year (because life is better tanned!)...and I received a message from a family friend of ours, Bob Foster, who some of you may know. Bob is a flight paramedic, and very quickly becoming my new best friend! So, Bob calls and says "Hey - I'm flying down to San Francisco at 6 tonight to pick up an intubated patient in ICU and bring him back here. I need a nurse with a passport, you want to come?" Hmmmm...let me think...YES! Yes, I do!! Within 2 hours we arrive at the airport, with passport in hand, and board the Lear Jet with two pilots, a respiratory therapist, stretcher and all sorts of fun medical supplies! After a two hour flight we land in Oakland, are picked up on the tarmac by an ambulance and are whisked away across THE Golden Gate Bridge to the hospital. I confess, it was pretty hard for me to conceal the huge amount of giddy excitement I had. I suppose it's a little twisted to be excited about having to bring a sick patient back to Canada, but this is the stuff Rock Star Nurses' dreams are made of! Three hours later we had boarded the plane again with our patient and gear, this time headed to Nanaimo to deliver our patient to his hometown hospital ICU. And as we flew home to Victoria in the wee small hours of the morning, I couldn't help but marvel at the adventure I had between descending into San Francisco at sunset and descending into Victoria at sunrise. I love my job.

Barbie's Magic Hospital

2007-05-16T17:08:00.000-07:00

Many of you know my love for Barbies. Even if you met me as an adult, you are aware that as a 28 year old I have Barbies in my house. As a college student, I had them displayed in my hallway. Creepy? A little. I prefer to think of it as quirky and comical...and prepared for little visitors, like my neice! The point is, I have always loved them. And it wasn't just the doll that I loved as a child, it was the elaborate story lines that I could create. Apparently the lack of drama in my own life spurred me on to dreaming up all sorts of soap-opera-esque plot lines at the age of 8. For instance, when we got our dog Taffy, a yappy, toy-poodle who had a taste for all things plastic, she managed to chew a hand or foot off the odd Barbie doll. So, to explain their disfigurement I would give them diagnoses. Usually cancer, which lead to the obvious limb amputation. My 8 year old brain apparently only knew one big disease. In my 7 years of nursing, I have yet to meet someone who has lost a limb due to cancer...but at least I scored some points for creativity!

Not only would my Barbies have a history of critical illness, but they would often develop acute exacerbations of some rare lung disease causing them to be on oxygen in the hospital. I would fashion some string into a small loop that fit around their nose and ears, like the oxygen tubing I now use everyday. (prophetic? maybe. hahaha) Not only that, but I would make ventilator noises to go with it. Now, I loved my Barbie Magic Voyageur, but if Mattel had come up with the idea of Barbie's Magic Hospital...oh man, I would have been in love!!!

So, today, as I was assessing my intubated patient in CCU (coronary care unit...basically an ICU for hearts) with the sound of the ventilator in the room, I couldn't help but smile and think back to my Barbie-playing days, sitting in my room, while Dr. Ken worked tirelessly to save Barbie's life so that they could ride off into the sunset together in their Grey Corvette with pink accents. And it made me think of just how intricately we are created, and how the dreams and little personalities we have as children shape us into who we are now, as adults. It makes me wonder, as I watch my nephews and neice play and imagine, what little parts of their distinct personalities will drive them and direct them to become the people they have the potential to be...

sniffle

2007-05-09T22:28:00.000-07:00

I'm sick. I'm not sure with what, which is odd, because I am a nurse, so you'd think of all people I would be able to tell...but I can't. It's a weird, sore throat, now stuffy nose, no energy, wanna lie on the couch all evening, kinda sick. And all I want to eat is popsicles, ginger ale and carbs (Thrifty's raisin scones have been doing the trick). The only thing I like about being sick is the excuse to watch numerous movies in a row. And usually they're movies I've seen a million times, so it's okay if I fall asleep for 1/2 of it. Now, I haven't been able to get started yet, as most of my day of sickness was spent at clinical (ugh) (side note: I'm doing a clinical rotation for my course right now in the Coronary Care Unit, which is like the ICU for hearts...good times!), or watching good tv tonight (America's Next Top Model and One Tree Hill...I love Wednesdays!!). But I have big movie plans for tomorrow if the sickness is lingering.

And these movie plans will include my Top Movies to Watch While Sick:

1. The Little Princess (the one made sometime during the 1990s...there are a few out there)
2. The Princess Bride
3. Ever After
4. Sense and Sensibility
5. Pride and Prejudice
6. Narnia (warning: the battle scenes are a little loud for napping)
7. You've Got Mail

So, I'm gonna go to bed now, and will probably put in Sense and Sensibility to fall asleep to, only because I leant the first 3 out to a friend while she was sick. So next time you are sick, friends, send your friends or boyfriends or husbands to go get you a few Sick Movies...it makes those hours on the couch a little more bearable than daytime television.

The Poignant Words of Fred Penner

2007-04-25T13:47:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: This blog entry is pretty much about nothing. One might call it a Seinfeld Blog...but I couldn't help myself.

I have a new addiction as of late, as if coffee, all beverages fizzy, and ANTM weren't enough. I can't get enough of it. I've had it at least everyday for the last week...and I still want more. In the immortal words of Fred Penner "I love sandwiches". There. I said it. In fact I was singing it the other day at work, to which my coworker, not shocked at the fact that I was singing at work...again, looked at me quizzically and asked "what ARE you singing?"...poor soul had not been exposed to the lyrical genius of Fred Penner in her youth. I know what you're thinking "Did she grow up in cave?" No. But, let this be a lesson to us all to expose all children we know to fabulous songs about sandwiches, and magic dragons named Puff. But I digress...back to the sandwich...

Now today it was just your average turkey sandwich on nice, fresh whole wheat, with a little mayo, butter, lettuce, tomato and avocado...but Tuesday - I have to tell you about Tuesday. It was possibly the best sandwich I have ever made. Let's call it The Italian Tuna Melt. This sandwich will revolutionize how you see the Tuna Melt. Ingredients: tuna, a spoonful of pesto, chopped kalamata olives, diced tomato (without seeds...too watery), a splash or two of balsamic vinegar and feta cheese, on fresh bread. Now I used just some bakery whole wheat...but the ideal would be a paninni or ciabata bun...but the bread worked. Grill that baby up, and mmmmmmmm...tuna melt heaven, italiano style.

Just thought I'd share. And leave you with this:

Sandwiches are beautiful
Sandwiches are fine
I love sandwiches
I eat them all the time

I eat them for my supper
And I eat them for my lunch
If I had a hundred sandwiches
I'd eat them all at once...

(courtesy of Fred Penner's "Sandwiches")

I heart the West Coast

2007-04-23T20:40:00.000-07:00

Oh it is a good day! Much of it is due to the fact that after five 12 hour shifts in a row, I don't have to go back to work tonight! But it is also due to greatness of loving the west coast as of late. I was going for a run this evening (feeling a little nervous about my 10km race plans this weekend), and couldn't help revelling in the greatness of west coast life. I may have even bounded a wee bit for a few steps!

This last week I have had some classic west coast moments! It all started with a little Gourmet Club Road Trip to Denmann Island. Denmann Island is just off the coast of Courtenay, about a 3 hour drive north of Victoria and a short little ferry ride. We stayed in a quaint, rustic cabin (an old logging house), sans le bathroom (insert nervous laugh here), about 50m from the beach! About 50% of our 24 hour trip consisted of eating fabulous food! The rest was filled with beach walks, hiking and bon fires. Big sigh! Is there any better way to spend a weekend?!

Now as if this wasn't enough west coast greatness for one week, Corporate Rowing Challenge also started this week!! What is Corporate Rowing Challenge, you ask? Well, here in Victoria they hold a rowing competition every year where businesses in town can put together a team (experienced or not) and you spend 6 weeks learning how to row, or improving your rowing. 4 West (my unit at the hospital) has put together its sophmore team: "How Sweet Eight Is", and practice began last week. I'm not sure what thrills my heart the most when we get that boat on the water - is it just being outside on Elk Lake? is it working as one with 7 other teammates? is it the nostalgia of years gone by when rowing consumed so many of my days? is it the feel of working hard in a graceful motion? Ah, it must be all of these...oh how happy my heart is in that boat! Plus, our handsome new coach makes things a little more exciting too!

And now, to top off the April West Coast Adventures of yours truly, there will be the Times Colonist 10k this weekend...wish me luck! I'm probably not as prepared to run it this year, as I have been previously, but it should be fun to run it with Andrea. We were tempted to register as Barbie and Midge Mattell...but decided not to in the end...maybe next time!

For those of you far away...really wish you were here to share this with. Make sure you register with Chez Elise and Kendal's B&B...we have a newly furnished guest bedroom waiting just for you and your west coast adventures...

Soooooo...

2007-04-03T22:52:00.000-07:00

...this is what happens when Kendal and Elise try to study on a sunny, spring day...after eating too many mini-eggs...

Confession: I had written a more serious blog about my recent viewing of "The Passion of the Christ", and then had to delete it, as it felt too intimate to share blog style - so I opted for the above! But, if any of you have seen "the passion" I would love to chat about it! It's been 2 days, and it's still sinking in!

PS I think we look 12 in this picture!

Spring is taking the lead

2007-03-19T17:03:00.000-07:00

I have always considered myself a lover of autumn. I love the changing colors, I love the crispness in the air, I love bringing out the scarves and comfy sweaters, I love the sound of crunching leaves under my feet and the smell of woodstoves heating up...I have always had a love affair with autumn. I would even secretly long for it in July while I sipped on my iced tea in the sun. Even when I lived in Calgary and fall only lasted 3 weeks, it was still my favorite 3 weeks of the year...but lately, my affections have begun to turn...towards spring.

Have you noticed how WONDERFUL it smells out lately, with the hope of spring coming in just a couple of days?!!? *huge deep breath in* I've started walking to work on my night shifts, and I can't tell you how much I have been enjoying my walks home in the morning. The sun rising, the fog clearing, the smell of ocean in the air and the blossoms! Oh the blossoms!! I have developed a deep love of the cherry blossoms and then there is this magnolia tree that is intoxicating - and you can smell it half a block away!! When I grow up and have a yard of my own (instead of my gigantic patio of greatness) I am going to have a magnolia tree in my front yard...and maybe my back yard too...it will be glorious!! AND there is this other fragrance in the air - I have no idea what it belongs too, but it is so sweet and it almost smells like Earl Grey tea...if any of you green thumb types have any thoughts as to what I'm describing, please let me know what it is...because I think it will have to go in my grown up garden too.

What's more - it's not just the beauty of spring that I love, it is the very idea! The very idea that spring is a sign of hope - that the dark, dampness of winter is not forever, and even though it will surely come again, there will be beauty before it does! God is so amazing. He knew exactly what He was doing, and exactly what we needed. And isn't it fabulous that this is the season we celebrate Easter? Our celebration of hope...it's all so fabulous...

All this to say - Spring has won me over, for more reasons than one. I still love autumn, but I'm afraid it may have to assume the position of second most loved season. I think I'm going to go outside now, let me know if you want to join me!

"[Spring is] when life's alive in everything" ~ Christina Rossetti

Hello Pot, This is Kettle

2007-03-15T23:39:00.000-07:00

So I never really realized the pressure there was to regularly blog (btw, Pot...errr...umm... Rachel! I haven't seen anything new on your's since FEBRUARY!! ;) I'm just sayin'....)! I figured that if I didn't have a moment to check other people's blogs, they probably didn't have time to check mine, and see that I haven't written in a little while...turns out that's not the case. And I'm pretty sure that kind of thinking is similar to that of a 5 year old, in their whole learning how they relate to other people...or at least I remember learning something very similar to that in my developmental psych class...but I digress!

My friend Alida is in town. We met my very first day on the U of C campus. It was called University 101 - a basic intro to the school. Funny thing is, I met Alida and Amy, two very special friends, that first day in our little group 0f 20! It wasn't until we were touring the SUB and we both noticed the IVCF sign that we realized we had more commonality than just being first year nursing students. Alida became one of the friends that got me through my degree. She was the one that brought Amy and I and our 3rd year group project team snacks in the computer lab as we headed into our 12th hour of typing out our 116 page paper...she was the one who took me to the airport to come home for Christmas...and she was the one who never lost sight of her dream to work in Africa with medical missions. She's traveling to Nigeria for the third (??? do I have that right???) time in a few months, where she'll live for 2 1/2 years, helping people, meeting their physical needs, and loving them. This is her passion.

We sat in ReBar last night over an almond burger and lotus land stirfry as she told me of her African adventures. Sometimes, I admit, I am terribly jealous! That is, until she told me about the "bush meat" and the near-death experiences while driving...but, I tell you - it's pretty great when your friends are your heroes.

You should really check out her blog (see below) - and tell her she should write a book, because her stories are fantastic!! At least that's what I keep telling her.

"Go in the direction of your dreams. Live the life that you have imagined" - Thoreau

...ok....I have to add to this quote - I love it! It's one of my favorites, there's just one part missing - that if you dream with God, He'll take you further than you imagined!

What! You too?

2007-03-01T22:59:00.000-08:00

"I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

So I've been thinking about friends lately. I've had a few random dreams that have brought to mind dear friends who I haven't been in touch with for a while. And then these last couple of weeks I've been able to connect with some fabulous people in my life...friends that feel more comfortable than my favorite sweater. Such sweet and wonderful friends!

It's interesting how life is full of different friendships. There are friends who are perfect for laughing hard with, friends to cry with, friends to run and play with (I know I'm 27...but I still play!), friends to make music with...friends that push you and challenge you, friends that encourage you, friends that are friends because of a history shared...what a tremendous gift we have in friendships...whatever form they take.

I was just chatting with a dear friend today about how you get to this point in life and you remember that time when your one group of friends was everything...they were your world...and then, as we get older and life moves on, so do our friends. Friends move on to different cities, or different places in life, different relationships, different worlds...and we remember when they were our Sunday morning, our Tuesday night, and Friday night. Now they become the Wednesday night phone call that lasts over 2 hours, and the great card that arrives unexpectedly in the mail, or message on the voicemail that reminds you that you are loved and thought of...

So maybe there are some friends that are just for a time, but then there are those rare and special friends that hold onto your heart forever, where time apart has little impact on the connection between two kindred souls. I am so thankful for my friends - the friends who "knew me when...", the friends who know the history behind my nicknames and passions, the friends that make me laugh to the point of tears, the friends that challenge me to be the person God's called me to be, the friends that bring so many beautiful moments to life.

I am a very thankful girl. I am so very thankful for each of you, friends.

"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You, too? Thought I was the only one." ~ C.S. Lewis

the soundtrack to my life

2007-02-20T00:08:00.000-08:00

All my life I have wished that there would be a soundtrack playing in the background; appropriate mood music for that exact moment...like something fun and pop-y while I'm out on the town, or something melancholy while I'm contemplating breaking up with someone, something inspiring and uplifting as I start a new job...you know...like in the movies. Even if I didn't already have a crush on Jack Black, I would have fell in love with him (or rather, his character) after watching "The Holiday" just because he could provide personalized soundtrack music for me...sigh. A girl can dream.

There have been times in my life where I've tried to create appropriate music for the situation. Jaclyn and I would often work towards this...but it's a tricky undertaking. Until the latest love of my life arrived...my iPod. It has become the mobile soundtrack for my life!! Walking to work feeling reflective and pensive -Sara Groves "Add to the Beauty"! Running by the ocean on a sunny day - Chantal Kreviazuk "Waiting for the Sun"! Doing laundry at the laundromat - Barenaked Ladies "Easy"...and TA DA my life has a soundtrack!! I just did a contented sigh right there. It's a happy day now that my mood music can come everywhere with me. My only concern is that I'm frequently tempted to sing aloud with the music. I'm pretty sure the day will come when I find myself singing outloud while walking along Fort Street. So if you happen to drive past, just honk and remind me that I'm not in the privacy of my own home!

And if you are looking for some good soundtrack music, may I suggest the following:

The Weepies "Somebody Loved" and "The World Spins Madly On"
Mat Kearney "All I Need"
Beyonce "Irreplaceable" (a particularly good one for feeling single and fabulous! ;)
Coldplay "Fix You"
Corrine Bailey Rae "Put Your Records On"

Okay friends - have a happy day!! And enjoy the music!

Speaking of random videos...

2007-02-16T00:24:00.000-08:00

Okay - so there has been some excitement about the fabulous duo, "Flight of the Conchords", amongst various people in my life recently...and I really think you should take a look at this one...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-jVAHAuiS4&mode=related&search=

Sarah this one's for you!

2007-02-15T23:50:00.000-08:00

Have you noticed? They're everywhere. Practically everyone has one. And here I am on my journey to being "unique"...and I decide to join everyone else...

I have started a blog.

I used to think blogs were silly. But I admit much of my earlier skepticism of blogging came from blog envy. "Blog envy" you ask? Yes - the envy of something to blog about. I didn't have any of the typical blogging subjects in my life (e.g., new babies, cute kids, and/or but not limited to, amazing trips to save the world in some third world country)...hence the blog envy. But then, my sweet friend, Sarah, commented to me that I should have my own blog to share. ME! Child-less, trip-less, little me...and I thought! Yes Sarah! You are right. So here's a blog filled with the details and observations of my life, which will include subjects like adventures with my fabulous friends, moments shared with my ADORABLE nephews and neice, and stories of my delirious patients (because, really those are the funniest!) and probably a random video I find funny because my brother just can't help himself but send them to me.

All this in good time, dear friends. Just wanted to let you know that I have entered the blogging world. And I would like to dedicate my first blog to you, Sarah! "For giving me the idea in the first place" (please tell me you know what that quote is from!)