The Bedpan Incident

This story starts long before the actual bedpan incident.  Approximately four weeks ago I started taking horseback riding lessons at work.  I figured it was the one program I know the least about, so it was high time I learn.  A week ago today was my third lesson, and I have been riding this beautiful percheron named Bo-Vine, So-Fine (so named because of his cow-like markings), but we call him Bo for short.  Oh, and did I mention that he's the biggest horse EVER?

It was getting to the end of the lesson and we had learned how to "reverse" (did anyone else just get the Cha-Cha Slide stuck in your head...you know, "REVERSE, REVERSE...REVERSE REVERSE"?) our horses.  So our instructor had set up an obstacle course in the riding arena that included 10 posts between a set of cones, a figure eight around some barrels, "parking" in a "parking space" and then backing out, then trotting a victory lap around the arena.  

Now, back up another week to my previous lesson, when we worked a lot on my balance while trotting.  A lot of it has to do with the fact that my left ankle is significantly weaker than my right.  It goes back to a high school softball injury that never healed quite right.  So in this most recent lesson, when it came time for me to  do my victory lap, I was fairly confident that I could make it the whole lap around the arena without too much trouble.  

But I was wrong.  Bo and I were almost finished when I started to lose my  balance, regained it, but over corrected a little and just came right off and hit the ground.  From about six feet up.  I just laid there, probably yelling a mixture of obscenities and 'oh, God!'s.  After lying there a while and attempting to stand up, we called an ambulance.

I will spare you the rest of the painful details about getting strapped to the backboard, an ill-fitting collar, and a rather bumpy ride to the hospital.  Once I got into my room, initial assessments completed, et cetera, I OF COURSE had to pee. And since I had yet to be x-rayed or CT-scanned, they wouldn't let me up to go to the toilet (not that I probably could have walked at this point, anyway).  

So in comes Amber the nurse, Maria the CNA, and a bedpan.  After getting me all undressed and situated, Amber promised me that I was appropriately positioned on top of the bedpan.  SHE PROMISED.  But then I couldn't go.  It wasn't like I was bladder shy...I pee with other people around all the time.  It was because I am used to going while sitting down, not while lying flat on my back.  But Amber, being the professional she is, walked over to the sink, turned on the water, and it was like MAGIC.  

Magic that I quickly felt running up my back.  When I said something, Amber and Maria both assured me that there was nothing to worry about, that there was no urine pooling underneath me, so it was going to be fine.  Except then when I was finished and she took the bedpan away, she realized that I, in fact, had not been totally peeing into the bedpan.  

BUT AMBER, YOU PROMISED!!!  hahahahahahahahahhaah

I felt so bad, though.  And after they cleaned up the mess I'd made, they just covered me up with a gown and some blankets.  I'm not sure if it was the pain, the drugs, or just me being ridiculous, but I felt the need to tell all three people who came to take me to various x-rays and scans that I was pantsless.  

This is my life.  And this is my bruise:

Pretty sweet, huh?

The Great Debate

We've all been a part of a discussion that went something like this:

Have you seen the new __________ movie?

Yeah, but the book was better.

As usual.

In some sense of the word, it's true.  Books are generally more detailed, tell a fuller story, and give the reader more freedom to imagine the characters and events in his or her own mind.  But books aren't accompanied by musical scores, nor do they have the advantage of live performances.  Movies do.  

The point I'm trying to make is that comparing books to movies is futile, because they are so different.  It would be like saying eating at Chipotle is better than eating at the authentic Mexican restaurant.  Chipotle is, of course, inspired by Mexican food, but is a little bit of a different take on it.  It is the product of Steve Ells's creative culinary license.

In the early 20th century, there was a scientist who suggested that as a human race, we had discovered all there was to know. We had reached the end of the discovery phase of mankind. (I could go on about that for quite some time, but will save it for another day.)  While we obviously know that he was wrong, there is something to be said for the slow down in original ideas.

While I am by no means claiming to be an expert on the film industry, it does seem that the majority of movies these days are inspired by something else, whether it's a novel, a series, a comic book, or a real-life event.  And when you're in the story-telling business some of the details always get changed.  I love to tell stories, and it just so happens that I almost always have a story for every occasion.  But I will also be the first to admit that I do some embellishing from time to time.

The important thing to remember is that the details that get changed never affect the overall outcome of the story.  Let's talk Lord of the Rings.  Those of you who know me know that, given the chance, I would go live out my days in Middle Earth, barefoot and drinking tea with hobbits, chilling and talking slowly in Fangorn with the ents, and riding all over Rohan and Gondor with the Rohirrim (on Shadowfax, of course, since Gandalf would be my homeboy and lend him to me whenever I asked).

So, when the LOTR movies were released, I bet you can imagine that I was initially disappointed at the exclusion of (among other things) Tom Bombadil, the Battle for the Shire, and what could have been the most epic cliffhanger in the history of cinema.  (For those of you who DKDC about LOTR: at the end of The Two Towers book, we are left to believe that Frodo has been killed by Shelob, a giant spider, in her lair in Mordor.)  But now I am able to look at the three films as a whole and see that while they do not tell every single piece of Tolkien's story exactly as he told it, they still tell the story.  And beautifully so.

Okay, I'm trying to reel it in, since I could go on about LOTR forever, and you very well might not care, but I just have one more point to make.

Now that I can view the movies as a whole, I have come to the realization that my favorite scene from the films is something that never even happened in the books.  In The Two Towers movie, at the Battle of Helm's Deep (which, btw, is only one chapter in the book), the army of elves shows up to aid in the defense against the orcs.  I love that scene.  I love that the elves are there, without question, to fight a war that isn't theirs to fight.  I love their fancy helmets and bows.  I love that they never seem to run out of arrows.   I love that they don't think twice about losing their immortality for the greater good. That scene really makes that movie what it is.

And that, in the end, is the beauty of art. It's the realization that each genre is different.  And, as with people, differences should be celebrated and enjoyed.  The fact of the matter is that none of us would want to sit through a movie that was exactly like the book...because it would be a 72-hour film!  I've decided to stop making "better or worse" comparisons between books and movies.  Rather, it should be a question of "Was I entertained? Was it a good performance (either written or acted)? Is it thought-provoking? Does it evoke an emotional response? Would i read/watch it again?

We spend so much time complaining about how movies aren't as good as their inspiration that we fail to see that they are, in their own right, works of art.

The Shrinking Significance of the Standing Ovation

I am certain I am not the first person to think of or write about this.  I was at an event this weekend during which it seemed like we (the audience) were giving out standing ovations as easily as Halloween candy.  And, the last time I checked, the standing ovation was for someone or something of great significance.  It wasn't just something you did every time someone received an award or certificate of appreciation.  It isn't just this weekend's festivities that got me thinking about this, either.  I've been bothered by it for quite some time.

Let's go back to high school, or even middle school, band.  Only the most spectacular performances were applauded with empty seats.  I remember this happening a lot in college.  Granted, I did spend the majority of my time with music majors and attended my fair share of recitals, concerts, and shows over the course my time there.  But it was there more than ever that I felt I could decide whether or not I enjoyed the performance enough to stand and applaud at the end.  It was there that people really put their hearts and souls into what they were doing, and truly appreciated an honest response to their performances.

I feel that the almost-always-obligatory standing ovation of these days is indicative of the millennial generation.  It's practically required for anything other than the run of the mill.  There's always that awkward, "Do I stand? Do I not stand?" moment.  Because now, it isn't about whether or not you believe the awardee/performer/etc. deserves the additional honor, it's about what everyone else in the audience is doing.

And you know what I say to that?  No more! I will no longer stand when I don't believe it is deserved.  I will be okay with going against the grain.  Who's with me in my quest to restore significance to the standing ovation?

To Read More Books

It's the new year.  2012.  Ouch...just realized that exactly a decade ago I started counting the days until high school graduation.  I still remember the surprise on my AP English teacher's face the first day back after Christmas break when I announced that we only had 142 days until freedom.  Oh, those were the good old days.

Every year, about this time, we all look at the year ahead with the hope of a fresh start and go about making our new year's resolutions.  I don't think I've ever managed to keep one of mine and every year I think, 'This is the year I will succeed!'  But by the time March rolls around, they usually fall by the wayside.  Let's take, for instance, 2011.  I decided to keep track every day of something I learned, something for which I was thankful, and something beautiful I saw that day.  I think I made it until the 12th of January before I got too far behind to catch up.

Regardless, I'm not making resolutions this year.  I'm going to think of them more as guidelines.  I want to read more, worry less, drink more wine and less coke, try new recipes, do less laundry, waste less produce, volunteer more, keep my nails painted, sit on the porch and look at the stars, learn to like tomatoes, do jigsaw puzzles regularly, actually use the kayak I bought myself, visit more museums, do more people watching, finish writing the book I started two years ago, plant a garden (or at least some flowers out front!), laugh more, blog more, love more, and just try to keep it all together.

So far I'm doing pretty well on some: I'm in the middle of my third book of the year already and I just repainted my nails from dark brown to a bright fuschia-ish color with sparkles!  Unfortunately, I did have to throw away a zucchini and a yellow squash today because they had gone bad since Christmas.  That put me in a foul mood because I had planned on using them for dinner, but it was nothing a little stir fry couldn't save.  

But hey, if this is the year we're all gonna die anyway, I'm probably not going to try too hard.  Except on the book thing...so many to read before doomsday!

What Keeps us Going

Sometimes I feel like I've spent the past two years in a constant state of "stressed out" with living in the real world.  But it's always nice when something happens to remind me that for now, I'm in the right place.

Ask anyone who works at a summer camp and you will be told that we "don't have favorites" when it comes to campers.  But it's all a load of crap.  We all have our favorite kids over the years.  Some are lifers at camp, and others only come once but manage to leave a strong enough impression that they make the list.  One of my favorites is here at New Year's Camp this week.  

Tonight, at the big NYE bash, he was sipping sparkling grape juice from a plastic champagne flute with his pinky finger extended.  I told him that I liked how he was holding his cup like that, to which he responded, "I don't know why I do that I just have this problem with my hands."  I told him that in fact, he did not have a problem, that it was the classy way to hold a fancy drinking glass, and that his hands were perfectly normal.

He then proceeded to thank me...for calling him normal.  

It kind of broke my heart that being called normal seemed to make his day better.  It's really ironic, though, because around here, nobody is normal, and that's what makes us all our very own kind of normal.  

An Ode to Fungus

It's the holidays.  I would like to spend my money on holiday-like things.  So in an effort to be more financially conscious, I am making it a point to make more meals at home.  On tonight's menu is Kung-Pao Crab Stir-Fry.  Super easy and SUPER delicious.  (fry up a pack of Uncle Ben's instant Jasmine rice, 2 eggs, peanuts, shredded carrots, cabbage, soybeans, mushrooms, bean sprouts, chopped red onion, whatever meat you've got, and whatever else you like with a little olive oil and the stir fry sauce of your choosing...tonight I used Panda Express's Kung Pao sauce).

Anyway, as I was standing over the wok, tossing in obscene amounts of mushrooms, I thought to myself, "Is this too many mushrooms?"  To which I quickly responded, "No such thing."  But it got me thinking about shrooms and just how incredibly delicious they actually are. I realize and appreciate that not everyone loves to eat fungus, but I was so into thinking about how much I liked them, I did a little research and learned that they're actually delicious AND interesting!!

The average American eats four pounds of mushrooms per year (good to know I'm well above average) while the average Japanese person consumes 26 pounds per year.

Ancient Egyptians called mushrooms the "plant of immortality" and commoners were prohibited from even handling them.

Mushrooms, unlike most plants, consume oxygen during digestion and metabolization and produce carbon dioxide waste (like humans!!!)

There is an estimated 1.5-2 million species of fungus on the planet, but only approximately 80,000 are properly identified.

Some South American Amazon tribes use the same word for mushrooms as they do for meat, as they believe they have the same nutritional value.

All of this mushroom talk reminded me of a great book by Elinor Lipman called The Inn at Lake Devine.  I think I may  have actually blogged about the book before.  But mushrooms play a surprisingly big role in the book...which only makes me want to eat them more!!!

What's the Secret?

I like to think that I'm pretty decent in the kitchen.  I cook and bake and nobody ever complains.  I try fun new recipes, I make the classics.  And I get the feeling that people genuinely enjoy the food I make for them.

So why is it that when I go to recreate my favorite dishes from home, that they just aren't quite as good?

Today was a perfect example.  My sister came to my house this weekend to help me get it all organized before we have the big family Christmas here.  I keep telling her she should go into business as a personal organizer.  In a matter of about four hours, the kitchen, dining room, living room, and pantry were perfect.  The Christmas trees I bought last weekend were set up, plugged in, and decorated.  Furniture was moved and I had started on the colossal task of sorting out my own room.  In the process of sorting and organizing the pantry, Emily proclaimed that I wasn't allowed to go grocery shopping again until I needed perishable items.  Apparently I have to many jars of red plum jam in there.  

So this afternoon when I started to get hungry, I looked at what I had and thought about what I could make.  I realized that I had all the ingredients for Chuck Wagon Round-Up, one of my all time favorite dishes from when I was a kid.  It's basically a beenie-weenie pie with a sort of cornbread-ish crust.  I know, it sounds kind of awful.  But it's beans and hot dogs and cheese and sour cream: what else could you possibly want?!  It was so delicious tonight, but not as good as I remember.

Another recipe that does this to me is Creamed Beef Cheesy...probably my all-time favorite dish.  It's a cheese sauce with chipped beef served over hot biscuits. Amazing.  But every time I try to make it, I somehow ruin the sauce and end up eating biscuits with butter and jelly.

And then I realized why.  It's because no matter how I try, I will never be able to make anything that will taste as good as when Mom makes it.