Leftovers

Day: 394

Photo taken on Tuesday, August 30, 2011 in Bossdad's office at 137pm.

I can't believe Bossdad makes me wait for my lunch until now! Knowing that he has brought me his infamous pot roast for lunchies today, I can't seem to concentrate. He even packs grated cheese for us to top the delicious noodles and meat! It has been sheer torture to wait for this moment all day until now and even Bossdad looks annoyed he has to wait until the camera flashes before he can dig in.

Oh but the wait is so worth it...this is a meal they serve everyday in heaven.



Also, fun fact about my shirt of choice today: I happen to wear it on this exact day last year. Except that time I wasn't eating yummy pot roast and was instead trying to choke down year old wedding cake.

Charlie Brown

Day: 389

Photo taken on Thursday, August 25, 2011 in the HR office at 337pm.


IT'S RAINING SIDEWAYS!



No lunch run for me today.

Route 66

Day: 383

Photo taken on Friday, August 19, 2011 in my office at 430pm.

Just returned from taking my new kicks out for a 3 mile spin. I'm loving these Asics Gel Nimbus 13s! Great new trainers for the upcoming marathon! Thanks Moma!

^_\

Passed!

Day: 381

Photo taken on Wednesday, August 17, 2011 in the Time Out Room at 1158pm.

Studying for 20 minutes paid off! I am officially a Notary Public! Wu-hoo! Now I just have to send in my application with $40 plus how much it costs to get my stamp, seal, and registry book and I am in business! I'm cheap too, like cheap as in free. Forget the 2 bucks at the bank and come see me if you need anything notarized.

^_\

EEEAAAARRRRRSSSSS!!!!

Day: 379

Photo taken on Monday, August 15, 2011 in the Medical Records Room of The Surge at 120pm.

In order to curb the pen chewing, I have given myself an alternative place to keep my pen lately. It seems to be working and my teeth are thankful.

Glow Worms

Day: 373

Photo taken on Tuesday, August 9, 2011 on the Lexington Line at 814pm. (Pictured from left: Me, Cassandra, and Sonji)

I don't know how they convinced me to do it but tonight I find myself suffering for 75 minutes inside of a 111 degree room. At least I'm not the only one torturing myself tonight. My fellow coworkers-Sonji, Cassandra, and James-have taken me to my very first hot yoga class.

Cassandra had been talking about trying this out for over a year and when she finally went and told me all about it, silly me says, "Next time yall go, maybe I'll tag along." She held me to that and tonight we leave The Surge in tiny shorts and shirts ready to take on the challenge of not being able to breathe while posing.

I take my water bottle and mat inside of a serene room above Chirping Chicken on the corner of Lexington & 85th and pick a spot by the mirror. James sets up to my left, Sonji to my left diagonol, and Cassandra in front. It's a wee bit hot in here already but it is also a nice peaceful atmosphere that is very calming. When the class begins, I really don't notice the heat because it seems to be helping my flexibility and bending and twisting has never been this easy. After about ten minutes I notice my legs are slick with sweat and the hand towel I grabbed is definitely helping my sweaty palm situation. At fifteen minutes I bend over my right leg and a drop of sweat runs down my forehead, over the tip of my nose, and splashes down on my pink paisley mat. It is the weirdest sensation to be sweating this much; it's actually falling off me and creating puddles. I still feel good but now I'm worried I'm going to slip in a puddle of my own body water. This really can't be sanitary.

Okay, it has now been 40 minutes and I think I am going to die. My heart is racing more than it does when I sprint and I have already drank the contents of my water bottle. I'm so thirsty that my sweat puddles are looking appetizing.

We're cooling down now at the hour but there is no cool air coming in and I'm miles away from the door. I want to escape but there are hazards in the way like people and rivers of sweat in between them. I wish there were ropes hanging from the ceiling so I can swing out of here but I would probably just slide off and into the swamp that has taken over the serene yoga room. I check out James and Sonji who look like total pros, like this class is cake. I then search out Cassandra but she has already waded through the muck and is patiently waiting for us outside. I really want to join her but I can't find the energy to move.

At 75 minutes my heart has exploded and we're finally allowed to leave. Once outside in the cool air of 80 degrees, I catch my breath. I then talk to the instructor to make sure that racing hearts and blurred vision is normal your first go around. She talks to me for awhile, giving me helpful hints and encourages me to keep practicing.

By the time we leave, I feel better, more relaxed. My running shorts are quickly drying but I'm sweating through my dry shirt already. I thank my Surge buddies for including me in this punishing exercise and tell them I had a great time suffocating.


I then ask when we can go again.

Manny Ramirez

Day: Three Hundred and Fifty Two

Photo taken on Tuesday, July 19, 2011 in the front of the Surge with Cassandra at 244pm. (It is her idea to pose as Superheroes I swear!)


Cassandra informs me as I am leaving yesterday that we have no patients today and that she is going to wear her pajamas to work. I of course think this is a genius plan and vow to wear a pair myself.

For some reason Cassandra forgets her own diabolical plan and I am the only one wearing pjs in public. Needless to say, I am not the least bit embarrassed and thoroughly enjoy being comfy all day.

TGIF

Day: Three Hundred and Forty Eight

Photo taken on Friday, July 15, 2011 in the Surge kitchen at 916am.

When my coworkers find out Preston is in town, they beg me to bring him by so they can meet him. They have heard so many funny stories and seen so many cute pictures but they want the live version. I ask Kim if it's possible to bring him to the Surge before she heads out to Long Island to meet up with some friends and I learn it is possible! Even though he is supposed to be going out there for breakfast, Preston's eyes light up when he comes into the kitchen and sees all the free food displayed on the community table. He doesn't know what he wants so he settles for a little bit of everything, including Julia's fruit!

He is such a ham! Plus he already knows the way around the place and acts like he owns the joint even though it's his first visit. Everyone is just taken with him and can't help asking him questions just to hear is funny answers. He also has an issue with my broken desk and keeps trying to put the keyboard back where it belongs even when I tell him, "It's broken. Believe me Preston, it drives me nuts too." I think Bossdad should consider hiring him as my assistant because his OCD tendencies rival my own.

Unfortunately, their visit is short lived and we all reluctantly bid adieu to my family. I look forward to Kim and Preston's next visit to the Surge! Maybe next time they'll come on Potluck Day!

Ghost Dad

Day: Three Hundred and Forty Four

Photo taken on Monday, July 11, 2011 in Bossdad's office at 736am.

People love Bossdad. He barely gets in the door and everyone is talking to him a mile a minute. Before he can take his first sip of Starbucks coffee they are asking him questions, asking him to sign things, asking him for raises (that's me). But when he isn't in, his door is locked to keep all us hooligans out of his private office. Except when I need to send up SPARCS data, then it's okay for me to open up shop.

Problem is, once that light goes on, the employees come running. They get so disappointed when they come in and find me behind the desk. And then they ask me, "Is your dad coming in today?" Like I'm his keeper.

One time I really get them good. Bossdad steps out for a meeting and a private call comes in on my cell. I decide to take it in his office, sitting in the chair across from the big desk. I have the cell up to my right ear and I'm laughing and enthusiastically gesticulating, looking straight ahead. And next thing I know, several of my coworkers are hovering in the door, peeking in. "I don't mean to disturb you and your father but-" and they look in past the shelves and see an empty chair. They then very slowly back out of the room and hurry down the hallway.

I let them believe I am talking to myself.

Or Sirius.

Fatty McFat Fat

Day: Three Hundred and Forty One

Photo taken on Friday, July 8, 2011 at my Surge desk at 1005am.

Normal desk. Normal desk chair.

Not normal thigh circumference. Makes for an uncomfortable situation whenever I need to type.

I have massive quads, tiny hammies, and a cute little tush but there was a time when I had HUGE everything from the waist down. I am blissfully unaware of this fact until Dad points it out to me when I'm home on vacation as a senior in college. I haven't been able to get my jeans past my thighs for a few months now so I have resorted to wearing only cargo pants and corduroys. As I am bending over the sink to wash a dish (not a normal occurrance) Dad speaks up from behind his paper.

"Katie, you've put on some weight."

I look down at my flat stomach. "Um, I don't think I have," I say, now starting to feel unsure of myself. Maybe all those late night trips to TBell are finally starting to show.

Dad presses the issue by standing up and waving his hand around one of his thighs and a butt cheek. "In this area."

I turn from the sink, outraged and sputtering. "I'm not fat! That's from playing hockey!" He looks at me over his rims, throwing me the I-was-born-at-night-but-not-last-night look. I throw down the towel, walk to the center of the room, and assume a hockey position, full squat with fake stick lying across my legs. "This is what I do in order to play. Sitting in an imaginary chair for two hours straight makes my legs look like this."

A pause. A skeptical look. A tsk. And back to the morning paper.

Well, I never!

Axe Kick

Day: Three Hundred and Forty

Photo taken on Thursday, July 7, 2011 in my office at 457pm.

This is my Dell computer. I never named it because I don't love it. It is slow, old, and has a habit of freezing up and shutting down for no reason. It is too temperamental for my liking so after a year of my complaining, bossdad has to acquiesce and a new computer finds its way onto my desk today.

Now the question remains: what to do with the old one?

If only there was a secluded, overgrown field somewhere...

Puzzlement

Day: Three Hundred and Thirty Two

Photo taken on Wednesday, June 29, 2011 in my office at 2pm.

Remember when the power went out and Steve and I decided to get down and dir-TAY by doing a 2,000 piece puzzle? Well, this is the framed Charles Fazzino New York City puzzle we spent four days completing. Valerie is so enamored with this thing and has become my biggest fan which is so cute. When anyone stops in our office to see it, she jumps up and explains all the details about the puzzle.

"Katie did this with her husband, Steve, in the winter. It took them 4 days!"

"Wow!" They look at me and I supply a sheepish smile. "That quickly?!" I nod. "How many pieces?"

"2,000!" Valerie gushes.

"2,000 in four days? That's really fast." They now look at me and I wonder if they are torn between thinking I'm really smart or I have no life.

"And they did it without looking at the box!" Valerie says proudly which makes my heart swell.

"It's very nice," they say but take one more look at me before they leave the room. I know what they're thinking now:

If the power went out in MY building and I was stranded with my HUSBAND with no heat or television as a distraction, I can tell you what I would NOT be doing...

A puzzle.

Happy Birthday To Me

Day: Three Hundred and Twelve

Photo taken on Thursday, June 9, 2011 in the downstairs portion of Arturo's on York Avenue in New York, NY at 742pm. (Pictured from me to the left and around: Tania, Armando, Cassandra, Valerie, James, Sonji, Julia, Peggy, and Dorrette)

The Surge is going all out to celebrate my birthday this evening (two days early) and I am loving every minute of it!


When I come home from college, I make the decision to not celebrate my birthday anymore. I figure, 'eh, I'm turning 22, think I'm getting too old to make my friends go out or come over for a Harry Potter or Spiderman cake, maybe it's time I grow up and try to pass by the day without anyone noticing'...but Maeve won't let me (which I don't blame her because celebrating birthdays are fun). When I tell her my plan for not having a plan for my birthday that year she refuses to hear any of it. She marches down my basement and proceeds to type out an evite for a BBQ on June 11. A few days later I have a boatload of people showing up for my birthday BBQ so my parents take me to Price Club and I purchase a ton of food and Michelob Ultra (Beer-Water) only for the birthday to come and NO ONE show up. There are about five people who end up making the day special for me yet I couldn't stop feeling like a giant loser. People forget about me when I go to school in Colorado (though I'm sure they will say I abandoned them but isn't that what AIM was for then? To keep in touch?) and I guess responding to my party and not showing up is to teach me some kind of lesson? It is cruel so I swiftly drop many "friends" and my dad learns to like the Beer-Water over Coors Light through the course of the summer since it takes up our whole fridge.

I then vow to never celebrate my birthday again.

But each year, my birthday isn't forgotten, people text me a few weeks in advance, "what are we doing?" and I try to shy away from it and pretend it's not going to happen. I still fear a repeat of 2004, getting excited for a big event only to have no one show up. It was embarrassing and even though I played it off with sarcasm, it still hurt. Last year, I tell people, "I'm going to see the Karate Kid because it opens on my birthday and I like Jackie Chan. You are welcome to come if you so desire." Too afraid to invite people, I leave it in their hands, and on June 11th, my friends and family surround me in several rows of the Farmingdale Multiplex. And it is a start to a great birthday weekend.

Two weeks ago, Dr. Mwando comes into my office and asks what we are doing for my birthday. I am floored. How on earth does he know about my birthday? I smile and shrug, leaving it in his hands to do what he wishes. He converses with Peggy, Bossdad, and Dr. Zong and anyone else interested in celebrating my 29th year and here I am, surrounded by my fun-loving coworkers and great Italian food. We are loud and rowdy and the drinks are flowing and the conversation has our laughter carrying up the staircase into the main room above us. The party can end here and I would be thrilled that this is my birthday celebration but it doesn't end at Arturo's.

It continues on to Brandy's, a piano bar on East 84th Street. It is here where I consume way too many fruity drinks and sing aloud to almost every song the young, talented, (and cute!) piano player bangs out. After he and the other bar patrons sing Happy Birthday to me, he begins taking requests on napkins. Of course I ask for my two favorite Billy Joel songs and he honestly tells me he doesn't know the words to Zanzibar but he can proudly fake it. I laugh and tell him any Billy Joel song is fine and he lapses into Scenes From An Italian Restaurant. I think I loudly proclaim that I love him several times through the night because everything I request, he plays. He even treats us to Mary Jane's Last Dance and I silently forgive him for skipping one of my favorite lyrics in the song. The fact he knows all of these artists is astounding and I give him credit for remembering such a variety of different tunes.

Finally, around two, Bossdad drags me out of there and back to his apartment where I wipe off the remnants of my make up and fall onto the couch in an exhausted heap. I am very thankful for everyone coming out to celebrate my birthday tonight! I couldn't ask for a better start to my last year of my twenties! So much fun!

^_\

Party in the USA

Day: Two Hundred and Ninety Six

Photo taken on Tuesday, May 24th, 2011 in our private karaoke room in Duet 48 in New York, NY at 850pm. (Coworkers pictured from left: Julia, Me, Valerie, Cassandra, Samantha, Dr. Zong, and Peggy. Dr. Mwando had stepped out of the room when we took the pic but he was a big part of the night so that's him below singing some Usher.)

I can't sing. Nor have I ever claimed that I could even though Kim and Pher swear that I thought I could be the next Barbara Streisand and was convinced I would be a singer. I don't remember this at all. I like to sing especially in the car and the shower, but I totally suck. And even though I know this, I will still sing to you any chance I get.

My coworkers have no idea what they are in for when they invite me along for one of their karaoke nights because I croak instead of hold a tune but hell, I don't know what I'm in for with these party animals! I am apprehensive at first, tentatively leaning over Valerie to sing into her microphone when Dr. Zong starts us off with a little BSB, I Want It That Way. Everyone is totally cool and relaxed and just punching in numbers to popular hits, singing their hearts out. I finally work up the courage (have a drink) to ask Cassandra to be the Rihanna to my Eminem.

Yeah, that's right. I rap for my coworkers and at first they sit in stunned silence and then as if on cue, they all burst out laughing. This is a side of me they have never seen before. Never would they think the geeky white girl in medical records with the anime action figures on her desk would rap or listen to anything besides Lite FM. When the song ends I feel like one of them, I'm included, and it's a great feeling to just be accepted into a fun group of people. Now I'm flying high, I'm singing anything they throw up on the screen and taking notes from our Mistress of Ceremonies, Cassandra. She tries to pass the title to me but after hearing her belt out Beyonce, there is no way I can fill those shoes.

By the time Bossdad arrives, we have already bonded over Brad Paisley's Alcohol and force him to sing it again with us and then he has to have his solo, Gnarls Barkley's Crazy as well (since that is the theme of the Surge). When it gets close to 11 they have to pry the mic from my hands and push me out the door to catch my train. Tonight has been an awesome, awesome night that I will forever remember and always want to replicate with anyone who is willing to partake in this kind of fun. There are so many songs we didn't even get a chance to perform! I am definitely up for this again! Who's in?

Sticks and Stones

Day: Two Hundred and Ninety Five

Photo taken on Monday, May 23, 2011 in the Valda Smith Recovery Room Suite inside the Surge at 240pm.

As we are getting ready to host our Survive the Rapture Luncheon on Saturday, I cross the living room and find the only walking hazard then proceed to trip over it. It is the video game holder and my third metatarsal catches the cover without me noticing (yeah, my feet are that big). As I take a step down the cover opens up, keeps the toe securely in its grasp, and when the foot lands that's when the pain shoots up my entire leg.

A slew of F-bombs pierce the quietness of the Reab Household. Steve appears in the doorway. "What'd you do?"

Rather than admit I still do not know the length of my own feet, I blame him for leaving the games out. He takes no offense to this, being that this is not the first time I have stubbed my toe in his presence and every time I usually blame him for rearranging the furniture when I leave the room. "That couch was definitely three centimeters to the right when I went to go get the iced tea from the fridge!"

As the day wears on, the bruise gets darker and the swelling bigger. Today I ask my buddy, Dr. Mwando, if it's broken. He gets down to foot level and squeezes the toe. "Ow."

"Nope. Not broken. But come down to Recovery later and we'll throw you in the C Arm."

Yay! The C Arm!

One of the residents did this for me two years ago, right when Das Boot came off and I was clear for running but a day later-no joke-I decided to vacuum my apartment then stubbed my pinkie toe on said vacuum after I was too lazy to put it back in the closet. I successfully broke that little guy (the toe not the vacuum even though throwing it through the window did occur to me) and had to push back the running debut for another two weeks until I could wear my sneaks again.

So I go on down to Recovery once all the patients leave and we awkwardly stick my foot in the C Arm and take the picture. Drs. Zong and Mwando, Peggy, and Kise look at the x-ray and all come to the conclusion that it is not broken (phew!) and I should just not run for awhile (I'll probably run later). Feeling left out, Kise then sticks his ankle in the machine because it's been clicking lately so I get to press the big orange button to take the picture and then I get to join the doctors and the tech as we decide what to do about Kise's ankle-clicking problem which is nothing. Just don't walk on it, Kise, then it won't click.

Problems solved!

Fast Times at Reab High

Day: Two Hundred and Eighty Nine

Photo taken on Tuesday, May 17, 2011 while chillin' across the best bed in the world at 945pm.

I am the worst test taker in the world. Especially if it is a multiple choice exam. I am not fond of any choice that has more than one answer such as "both B & C" or "all of the above" and I definitely loathe the dreadful: NONE OF THE ABOVE.

Then what was the f-ing point of asking the question then?!?

I hated taking the SATs because sitting that long for a test is just cruel and then to make you fill out an extra section not knowing which one is scored and which isn't, who the hell made up that stupid rule? And I never could wrap my head around the fact that if you answered incorrectly it is worse than not answering the question at all. WTF?! It took me three tries to break 1000 and not because I am dumb but because I dutifully made it through the first two sections and lost interest by the time the second math section came up. And God forbid my fifth section happened to be math instead of English because then I took the SATs advice and didn't even do it at all.

I also don't believe in studying and it is a rare occurrance (like this one) for me to do it. I've been known to do a cram session as I walk down the hall to my impending doom but my philosophy has always been: if I don't know it after sitting through the class and doing the assignments, then I will never know it. And I am okay with this. If my brain doesn't want to retain information on Trigonometry it won't and instead will save the room for something more important like what channels Marty McFly, Jr. asks for in the year 2015.*

But here I am tonight, attempting to study up on some of the finer points to becoming a notary public for the Surge. Tomorrow morning I will sit through the exam of 40 questions and will spend the majority of the time second guessing myself and erasing the right answer to put in the wrong one. I am petrified to fail this test yet I will stop studying the minute Steve gets out of his shower to watch a new episode of Naruto Shippuden. I already know what will happen tomorrow: I will begin the test the right way until I get stumped halfway down the page then flip it over and work backwards until I meet up with the question that stumped me. I will then fuss over the scantron and stare blankly into space for several minutes until people start leaving which will make me so anxious that I will finally just finish to finish. Then I will pretend like this test never happened and go about my life until I hopefully get a pass slip in the mail.

If I don't recieve a pass slip you might see me on the five o'clock news in 4 to 6 weeks.




Answer: He asks for 18, 24, 63, 109, 87, and the weather channel...which is 247.

Well Hello!

Day: Two Hundred and Seventy One

Photo taken on Friday, April 29, 2011 in my office at 202pm. (I'm pictured with royalty: Monica and Valerie)

Today we are celebrating a lot of things at The Surge: the Royal Wedding between Prince William and Miss Catherine Middleton, Administration Day, and seven April birthdays. It is very hard to concentrate knowing that the amazing Italian food is on the way from Mimi's Pizza Kitchen on Lexington. I am making an exception to my rule of not eating at work today and I think that is totally justified.

Not only are we getting a luncheon in for Admin Day, Bossdad gives each of us a beautiful orchid and a gift card to Bloomies! Not bad! Not bad at all!

And what are birthdays without a cake or two or three from the Two Little Red Hens? Happy birthday to all my coworkers this month!

You're probably wondering how I could ever complain about working here? After writing this, I'm wondering too.

Tazo Tea

Day: Two Hundred and Sixty Nine

Photo taken on Wednesday, April 27, 2011 in the medical records room at 825am.

Steve has turned me on to a "grown up" drink at Starbucks. Instead of the usual hot chocolate, I now like a tall soy chai. I am proud of myself for trying a different beverage though Bossdad doesn't feel very manly ordering my new drink of choice.

The Groovy Smoothie

Day: Two Hundred and Fifty Four

Photo taken on Tuesday, April 12, 2011 on 86th and Madison in New York, NY at 1248pm.

I love Jamba Juice. I am first introduced to it out in Boulder (it is such a Boulder thing) and back then they had a Pina Colada smoothie which I always bought but now I have a new favorite: Bright-Eyed Blueberry.

Cassandra likes when I order this particular beverage because for some reason, whenever I say the name of this delicious smoothie both my eyebrows shoot up. I know when I get back inside the Surge she's going to make me say it and she'll laugh and I guess on a gloomy day like this, we could all use a little sunshine in a cup.

Mind over Matter

Day: Two Hundred and Forty One

Photo taken on Wednesday, March 30, 2011 in my office at 827am.

For some reason I go to bed feeling quite normal only to wake up five months pregnant. (Yeah, you're right docs. There's absolutely nothing wrong with me.)

Being that I have prided myself on my flat tummy all my life I am not a fan of this bloating thing at all. I am now down to two pairs of pants that fit and the pain I have been experiencing today is beyond excruciating not to mention the trouble in the bathroom (don't worry, I won't mention the bathroom trouble). At three different times today, I am surprised when I feel wetness leak out of my eyes and onto my work in front of me.

I'm crying?! I'm crying I'm in so much pain?! That's it. I have had enough.

My Mind and Body are two separate entities. When they work in tandem they are fantastic, for instance: when my Body was breaking last Saturday during my 13 mile trail run and I seriously felt like my right knee was going to give out the Mind took over, coaching the Body through the pain until we accomplished the mileage we set out to do.

But the Body sometimes screws the Mind over like when the Mind is eagerly awaiting getting off the train and wants to play with the Indo Board, the Body walks through the door and decides they would rather lounge on the couch and do some Netflixing. It's like, "Work out? Nah, we have a few episodes left of Season 3 of Arrested Development. Maybe tomorrow."

Tomorrow comes and the Body makes another excuse, "oh my knee still hurts, Tiger Balm it for me, Mind. Thanks."

The Mind tries everything today to relieve the pressure in the stomach: changing positions, going for a walk in the park, drinking lots of fluids but the pain never subsides...until around 215pm when the Body eases up to let the Mind know it's hungry. The Mind couldn't even finish the peppermint hot chocolate purchased for her this morning, that's how bad the Body was acting.

The Body may win over Mind when it comes to working out but the Mind is strong willed and stubborn. So when the Body sends the hungry signal to the Mind, the Mind being extremely tired and pissed off from the emotional damage the pain from the Body causes today, decides not to respond. The Body is like, "Hey Mind. Um, I'm not in as much pain anymore, want to go get some lunch?"

And Mind, being the stubborn ass it always is replies, "Hey Body. You can go fuck yourself."