Chrissy's Blog

My grandmother passed away when I was 15, and I guess I never got to know her as well as I now wish I had. I have memories of baking brownies with her, the way she smelled of cigarettes and way too much perfume, and I distinctly remember her laugh. In my adult life, I know her mainly in the context of my grandfather’s loss. They were crazy in love their whole lives. They went through difficult times together, losing a child, poverty, and her Parkinson’s at the end of her life. But they loved each other and supported each other their entire lives. She died in her sleep, in his arms, where (I believe) she was happiest. Isn’t that what we all aspire to?

In the early stages of my break-up, I was sobbing to my mother about how I couldn’t believe he could just up and leave me.

“It happened to Grandma,” my mom told me. I was flabbergasted. I had never heard of this. I had no idea. My grandmother and grandfather were two peas in a pod. I had never heard of there ever being someone else.

But my grandmother had a first love. He went off to World War II and wrote her a letter from his training camp saying he had met someone else, that it was over. She was devastated. But, she decided she was done with men forever. She was going to be a career girl. In the 1940’s that meant going to secretary school. She worked hard and eventually became lead secretary at the office where she worked. She traveled all over the country, worked on a dude ranch, and in the above picture went sailing. (She’s on the left.) Then on a random night out with friends, my grandfather (who was actually supposed to go across the street and meet another girl) approached her and never turned back.

My mom sent me this picture, and I keep it by my window.

A lovely little garden in Greenwich Village on a lovely, rainy afternoon.

My co-worker and I went to a fancy burger place around the corner from our office. Delicious. Also good to hang out outside of work, beyond the stress of veterinary medicine.

I really respect and admire my boss. She is a fiesty but charming Irish lady who seemingly has her life together. Working for someone you like makes work that much more motivating. I want to do my best and be a good employee all the more, because I want my boss to be as impressed with me as I am with her. As humble as my job is, there is a lot to learn and be on top of. There are often so many things to keep track of that naturally things fall through the cracks, and my boss will become furious. However, about a week ago, I made a pretty bad mistake of forgetting to ship someone their medication. My boss confronted me, and I apologized and took full responsibility.

“I completely dropped the ball,” I told her with as much bravery as I could muster, preparing for my scolding.
“That’s alright,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “You do it so rarely, I don’t mind.” As she walked away, my co-workers and I were all stunned. I had somehow earned her respect.

This Tuesday was CA-RAZY. Phones ringing off the hook, emergencies galore, insane amounts of medications to compound and make. Plus one of my co-workers went home early with pink eye. A hectic day to say the least. As I was preparing an exam room, my boss walked by and asked if I could stay late. I told her of course.

“You are my number one employee.” Not going to lie, it was a great feeling.

Later, once things had calmed down, she pulled me aside and gave me the pictured box above. One of our wealthier clients had shipped her hand-made chocolates from Switzerland. Since I was stellar-employee-of the-day, she gave me one of the boxes. It was another 11 hour day of work, but that night as I sat by my fan and tried some of my ritzy chocolates I felt like a total and complete success.

I worked close to 12 hours this day. Exhausting to say the least. A lot of my co-workers have been taking time off because they’re sick, or they have school, or it’s their birthday, or they just want to go home early and take a nap. I also would love time off for any and all of these things, but instead I leech all of their hours and end up with pretty awesome paychecks. Money has been flying out of my bank account the last couple of months, and I am trying so hard to just catch up, so extra hours, not a bad thing.

I was beat by the time I left work, so I took a picture of this random building. I thought it was really pretty at the time?

I went to a volunteer orientation in the West Village in the morning. It was such a nice day that I figured I would wander on over to Tompkins Square Park in the East Village to check out the Howl festival that I had unfortunately slept through the day before. The festival is meant to celebrate the life and work of Allen Ginsburg who although associated with the Beat Poets, City Lights, and San Francisco, wrote and performed “Howl” in the Lower East Side. It’s an amazing, epic poem which I hope you, my dear reader, have read through at least once. The first line still gives me chills when I read/hear it.

I bought myself a mango juice and got to the park around 11:30. It is a lovely little park with plenty of places to sit and do some quality people watching. There was an area of open grass where they were offering free yoga. I figured, why not? In my jeans and flannel shirt, I borrowed a yoga mat and joined in. It was a perfect day, overcast and breezy, cool enough to do some quality outdoor exercise. I’d always wanted to try yoga and have been reading up on Buddhism on and off for the last year or so. I think the last two years of my life have been very disruptive, and I find myself just wanting some semblance of peace and guidance. I have looked to many things to find it, but (not to sound overly-spiritual) I now know that I have to find it within myself.

There were about seven of us doing free yoga in the grass, most of the others obviously had previous experience. I was desperately trying to not fall over most of the time. The man sitting next to me seemed to be in the same boat as me. I think he (like me) was walking by and just had the time to kill. He was one of those fleeting friends you meet in life who you have a quick friendly connection with, but you always part without knowing their name or really who they are. There was one point where we were all rocking our “foot baby” which was easy, relaxing, and really really funny looking. Then our instructor put her foot baby behind her head and propped herself up on one hand and extended a foot out. Me and my fleeting friend instantly looked at each other, laughed, and continued to rock our “foot baby” while whispering things like “Yeah right” and “Not today” to each other.

The best part was at the end when we just laid in the grass, relaxing our tired and stretched muscles, focusing on our “intention” and just being present in that park at that moment. An “intention” is the mind’s focus during yoga. Mine was simply serenity. I just wanted to have a clear mind and heart for that hour and a half.  It wasn’t easy. At one point the instructor came over and sprinkled something scented on me and touched my face and neck while whispering to me  “Just let it go.” It was so new age, but it helped, and I really felt completely at peace for the first time in a very, very long time.

I had agreed to switch shifts with a co-worker of mine and had to work 8-4:30 on this Saturday. Blech, to say the least. I arrived in the Upper East Side at around a quarter to eight. I looked up and down third avenue to see these large balloon string things arching high above the street. It was eerie as the streets were also pretty empty. Turns out there was a street fair. I’ve never been in a place that has as many street fairs as New York does. There was also a poetry festival happening in the Lower East Side which I planned on visiting after work, but I was just too tired. I had only slept about three hours the night before. So I headed home for a quick nap which turned into a night of napping on and off and watching a set of DVDs my roommate gave me. I suppose it was some much needed rest.

A beautiful day for a picnic in Central Park.