10/366
4 years ago
A Long Overdue Visit
Last month, Tom’s best friend Dave came to visit. If you were there, Dave was the best man at our wedding. Though we keep in touch, this was the first visit with Dave since before Harper was born.
But it took a little coaxing to get him down here. On Sunday, Tom and Dave went to see the 49ers lose the the Panthers (much to Dave’s dismay). But the rest of weekend was excellent too. Carolina beaches, barbecue, breweries, pool and darts. Oh, and of course, the hallmark of every coastal Carolina town – gasmasks:
Happy ThanksBirthday!
After a long trip in Boston, Tom decided to cook a Thanksgiving/Birthday dinner the day after I returned, so that we could celebrate both with Erin. He made turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, rolls, stuffing, gravy, and homemade apple pie!
What a man!
Shippin Up To Boston (Part II)
Friday was just as interesting, conference wise. I’m learning that this information is on the cutting edge of “how we continue learning medical knowledge,” but I’m slightly concerned that being at the tip of the paradigm shift is not going to go over real well back at home. Thank goodness I’ve got an outspoken, enthusiastic educator for a boss.
I didn’t spend as much time walking around the city as I had done the night before. The temperatures were in the 30’s, and while I brought gloves, a hat and a scarf, it still wasn’t as enjoyable, partially due to the blister on my pinkie toe. So I asked the concierge for a recommendation for dinner instead of exploring the town on my own. Given that we are so close to Chinatown, and as I walked around the last two days I keep getting delicious wafting Chinese food smells; I was craving good Chinese!
He directed me to a little place called East Ocean City. Right inside the door, you are greeted with tanks full of live crab, lobster and other sea creatures. There is also a decorative tank for Nemo fish to contrast the dull look of impending doom (but what a depressing, sociopathic thing to do). You’d think that having 6 or 8 large fish tanks as you walk into the door would be unappetizing, but the mouth-watering smell of Chinese spices and sauces overwhelm any negative scents that might be emanating from the death tanks.
I ate alone, all by myself, at a two person table next to the window. I was immediately brought tea (unsweetened tea), and there was no sugar or sugar substitute on the table. Ah, to be back in the North! (The last time I ordered Chinese takeout in Wilmington we got a free side of sweet tea.) I wanted to branch out, but as typical, there were no dish descriptions, so I ended up going with something I’d heard of before, but hadn’t tried. My spring rolls came immediately.
While waiting for the rest of my food, I people watched. It is awkward to eat alone, but I was determined not to feel uneasy. The restaurant was almost full, with at least half, and closer to two-thirds of the clientele were Asian, speaking an Asian language (I have absolutely no ability to determine which languages were being spoken, but I imagine that at a Chinese restaurant in Chinatown, Chinese was a contender). I figured that had to be a sign of good Chinese food. Outside, there were a disproportionate number of Asian people walking by, mostly women. I watched two people parallel park, both Asian women. The first was perfect and talented; backed in and forward and done. The other needed her passenger to get out of the car to direct her into the spot. Oh well.
The food arrived, delectable and spicy, just as good as I hoped. I refreshed my memory on using nice, solid chopsticks by watching the lady at the next table; parallel is the key! Halfway through my meal, I realized the pork had been supplemented with tofu. I was neither pleased nor displeased with this knowledge. I hadn’t realized sooner, which indicated that it did not affect the taste. The prices were extremely reasonable, so I didn’t feel duped or ripped off. I was mostly curious; I never had tofu before (that I can recall).
I walked back the hotel and stayed in for the rest of the night. A little after midnight I realized, “Oh yeah, it’s my birthday.” I’ve had to keep reminding myself, since this is unlike any birthday I’ve ever had. Alas.
Shippin Up To Boston I
I’ve never flown out of Wilmington. The airport is tiny, perhaps not microscopic. One terminal, six gates. All the departing flights fit on a single screen. The first flight out was a small plane, the type you walk out to on the runway. The flight was acceptable, though I was one row forward of the exit row and the Exit sign jutted into the head space I would typically lean into. No naps. But the flight was empty-ish and I got the row to myself. We either had to wait in the air to land or the pilot enjoyed drastic mid-air turns, because we tipped side to side until I thought I might be motion sick.
The next flight out was packed. The Philly airport lacked outlets, so I wasn’t able to connect to the world via my computer. Oh how I wish my laptop had longer than a 20 minute charge. The flight was snug, but cold and I still couldn’t rest. However, I saw a small feat of innovation that surprised me, if only because the airline industry is not known for a) making things easier and b) doing something clever.
In place of the old light up symbol telling us not to smoke in the aircraft (how obsolete is that?!), they now have an indicator of whether electronic devices are allowed to be used. When I was younger, I generally had to ask the flight attended when I could use my Walkman, because the thought of making that obvious was beyond the industry at that time. This is the first time I’ve seen this on a plane, though it may just be that I don’t fly as often as I used to. Well, I say that… I’ve flown 4 round trips in the last year, and in a month, I’ll be doing it again. That’ll change after Harper turns 2 – he stops being free.
Arrived in Boston, waited for my luggage; I had packed light with only 2 barely full carry ons but when the whole flight does that, the overhead bins fill rather quickly. If you aren’t quick to hop on the plane, they check your second bag.
My hotel was oddly fancy, that is to say, fancy in a variety of different ways, but not in the obvious ways. I got a warm chocolate chip cookie at check in, yet this downtown business hotel did not have free wi-fi (I was able to sweet talk the front desk lady & get a comp code). The room was smaller than my bedroom at home, but I had a single to-go cup Wolfgang Puck coffee maker. But the bed is soft with many pillows and for me, the quality of sleep is really the key when choosing a hotel room.
My first professional conference was on the 5th floor of the Courtyard Marriot. The conference itself is only interesting to a select group of people, so I won’t go into the details, other than to say it was about teaching people how to sift through the hundreds, if not thousands of medical journals to find the best, highest quality medical evidence without spending every waking hour doing so. It sounds simple, but sadly it’s a) very complicated, b) not currently done, and c) the inability to do so actually causes harm to patients.
After the conferences first day, I napped. I know I should have been taking as much time to explore this huge wonderful city as possible, but I needed the nap so bad (much like I’ll need a nap when I get home this afternoon). After an hour or so, I got up and walked around the parts of the city surrounding my hotel. I found the shopping district, complete with a four story Borders. I didn’t go in, for fear I would never leave. I walked past pubs and restaurants, stopping at Rock Bottom Brewery for dinner. They had the most delicious Pumpkin Ale, with a cinnamon sugar rim. That’s a beer I could drink every day, and I’m debating whether to stop by tonight to give it another go before I leave it behind.
A New Breed…
We have been getting fresh produce bi-weekly. We get some of the weirdest things. Last week’s box came with purple sweet potatoes. When I rinsed them off and saw their bright purple outsides, I wasn’t sure if that was just the outsides of the skin. Once I cut them open, I had to take that picture. Violet – all the way through.
Perils of Breastfeeding
Harper is still breastfed. I don’t know many women who still breastfeed at 18 months, but there is a small subculture of women like me who find no compelling reason to wean before 2 years (in fact, the World Heath Organization recommends breastfeeding a minimum of 2 years).
He gets milk in the morning, before bed, and generally once during the day. But there are times he wants more. And the downfall of breastfeeding a one year is that they are clever. Clever enough to know what is hiding under your blouse and clever enough to attempt to pull your shirt up when he’s thirsty:
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