Even Cowgirls Get the Blues by Tom Robbins

22 Apr

evencowgirlsgettheblues1stedThis is a post previously published by myself on a short-lived book blog.

I think it’s important for everyone to go through a Tom Robbins phase in their life. I read six of his novels in a row and totally burnt out on the philosophically bizzarre/sexual scenarios that also try to propagandize the free-love way of life. But this was the first book of his that I read, and I still keep a beat up copy of it on my bookshelf. All I had to do was read the ridiculous opening dedication to the amoeba, and I was hooked.

The plots in Robbins’ books are nonsensical and hokey and have limited structure. This book is about Sissy Hankshaw who is born with exceptionally large thumbs. What else can she do but become a hitch hiker and cowgirl to boot?

One of my favorite lines comes from our heroine Sissy when the Countess asks her what she is proving by hitch hiking her life away. She replies, “I’ve proven that people aren’t trees, so it is false when they speak of roots.” I’m waiting for the day when I can say that to someone.

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The Book of Crazy

14 Apr

2013-04-11 22.33.01 I’ve worked a number of different jobs with the public, and the one thing I’ve learned is there are a lot of weird people out there. There are also a lot of stupid people and some crazy ones. This isn’t exclusive to clients in veterinary medicine, but some animal people are nuts!

The above is a message I left for Dr. G back in my reception days. The conversation I had with this woman on the phone was so bizarre. From what I remember, she owned many cats and would freeze them when they died. Alas, there was no room in her freezer anymore, and she wanted an autopsy done to detect foul play. She thought someone had poisoned her cat…five years ago. So I left the message prominently on Dr. G’s desk. The next morning when he came into work, I heard him burst into laughter, and I knew my message had been found.

The note was so beloved by the practice manager that she made a copy and put it in a small notebook. The idea was that we’d document some of our crazy stories from our crazy clients in this book of crazy. Unfortunately, no one has updated it in over a year. But I thought some of these stories should live on, and after all my recent vet tech posts about death, it’s a much needed respite.

File under WTF??

Client: He sits down on walks with one dog walker but not the other. That walker is gay. I don’t know if that has anything to do with anything, but he is.
Dr.R: Probably not, ma’am.
Client: Well, I had a friend that died of AIDS, so…
Dr.R: Probably has nothing to do with it.
Client: Oh, OK.

File under TMI!

Female dog presented for progesterone assay for breeding
Dr.R: (jokingly to pet) Bet you wish we’d just leave you in a hotel room, you’d take care of things…
Client: Sometimes we do that.
Dr.R: What? A hotel room?
Client: Yes. We give them a hotel room for three days of fucking. We stay in one room, while they’re in the other. We don’t have sex, but they do.

Dumb Questions

  • What will happen to my dog if I take it out in the rain?
  • Will my dog get pregnant from eating my used condom?

That’s all we got! There should be so many more. Clients never fail to amaze me with their craziness.

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#hopeless

12 Apr

tumblr_inline_mkx7ziRwCA1r79k32 Let’s talk about Twitter for a moment. It confuses me. I don’t understand it. I find it to be a constant source of Internet frustration for me.

When it first came on the scene, I stuck my English major nose up in the air and thought that its short-form expression would never last. Now it’s kind of a big deal. It’s everywhere, and I still just don’t get it.

A good friend of mine helped me sign up a couple of months ago and was patient enough to answer a bunch of questions. But it still confuses me, and I have yet to tweet anything. I’ve thought long and hard about what to tweet, what to say, and I’m at a complete loss.

I occasionally look at the Twitter app on my phone and read what other people have tweeted, but I still don’t get it. Are people having conversations with one another? What’s with ReTweeting? The tagging, the hashtagging, the mentionings, the back and forth! I’m soooo confused.

I feel as an aspiring writer I should get more comfortable with the format as it is important for self-promotion. But Internet self-promotion is something I have never been able to master. Most of my friends become shocked to find out that I have a blog as I never promote it on facebook. I just have it humbly listed under my websites on my about page, and it is my status on gchat. That’s it. I’m not comfortable with self-promotion, but I know it’s only hurting me in the long run. I really should get over that.

I digress! Twitter! Help me! What should I tweet? How do I do it? What should I know? Can anyone out there in the Internets help a girl out?!

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Why We Write edited by Meredith Maran

10 Apr

whywewriteI found out about this book from the ever amazing Brain Pickings website which is a great place to find inspiration and guidance in leading a creative life.

The book (despite consisting of 20 author interviews) is short and quick to get through. I read it in two days on subway trips to bars on a Saturday night and to softball games on a Sunday evening. But the advice and the guidance within is invaluable.

What I admired about this book is while I’ve read similar amalgamations of writerly advice, this isn’t just one type of author. You have some very commercially successful mystery thriller writers, some nonfiction writers, some indie writers, a little bit of everything. And for being a book about creativity, it’s also down-to-Earth. The authors talk about their literal journey to where they are now. The logistics of paying the bills, getting published, finding time to write, changing careers.

What struck me was despite how vastly different they all are in every sense, they all kind of said the same thing. Write for yourself, work really hard, don’t give up when someone doesn’t like your stuff, work hard, write about what inspires you, work even harder.

It includes some authors that I already know and respect like Michael Lewis and others that I’ve never heard of. All of their stories were valuable though, and I recommend this book to anyone who desires a writerly life.

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Why I do it

8 Apr

2013-04-05 09.07.22 I enjoy writing on this site about my vet tech career, and I have spent the last couple of weeks brainstorming ideas for a post. The reason I haven’t written a vet tech post in a while is because it has been a rough couple of weeks at work. Lots of loss, lots of tragic loss, saying goodbye to patients that I loved, writing condolence cards to clients who I know are going through a painful time. It’s been consuming my work life, and if I were to write about it, this could  become a rather depressing blog.

One of the most difficult losses was Prince Buster, a cheerful bulldog with a kind family. The owner adopted him years ago, and in the last couple of years has gotten married and had a charming daughter. Prince Buster was there through it all and a centerpiece of the family. A couple of weeks ago, Prince Buster came in because he wasn’t “acting himself.” On a chance hunch, Dr. S tapped (stuck with a syringe) Buster’s stomach and pulled out non-clotting blood. This is a bad sign, it means that one of the organs in the abdomen is bleeding, this usually means cancer.

He was rushed into surgery. The little family said their goodbyes and were told they could come visit after surgery that evening. Unfortunately, upon opening the abdomen, the membranes looked like ground hamburger, each tiny bulb was cancer. There were also large tumors suffocating most of the organs. They were metastatic, and they had won. Dr. S called the family and explained the situation. They wanted to come in to be with him for the euthanasia, but the doctor explained that he would only be in pain and that it would be best if he were euthanized directly on the surgery table. The family agreed but had one request, that the receptionist and technician that had known Prince Buster since puppyhood each hold a paw while he was euthanized.

I stood in the doorway to the surgery suite and watched my co-workers hold those paws and cry. I thought of the little girl who had kissed her dog goodbye, I thought of the happy bulldog. It was a difficult day.

That night I met up with a friend for drinks. I was running late and explained to her that I had a sad day at work. I told her the story of my day, how emotional the euthanasia was.
“Why do you do this?!” she exclaimed at my sad story. I stumbled over an answer of there are good days and bad days, yada, yada, yada. But I didn’t have a clear answer. At the end of the day, I love my job and find it satisfying. I’ve never had a day where the sadness leads me to the thought that maybe I should do something else. But why do I put up with such a sad career?

A couple of days ago, we got a card at the clinic. A little girl had drawn a bulldog on the front and included were a number of photos from the life of Prince Buster. Inside was a beautifully written note. Part of which read, “Whenever he turned down the street to the center, he would fill with excitement and pull at the leash until he could collapse on the floor of the waiting room prepared to be smothered with affection and cookies. Thank you so much for the joy and health you brought to his life.”

And just like that, I had my answer. I’ve never seen my job as a burden of dealing with death, but a privilege to be a part of their lives. The same day we got the card, we had a new kitten exam with a tiny Persian. I went to the room to grab her and said to the kitten, “Are you ready for your very first doctor’s appointment?” Her owners got all excited and began digging through their things for their camera.
“You’re right! It is her first appointment! We must have a picture to commemorate. I hope you don’t mind. We’re very proud parents.”
I didn’t mind as I posed for the picture with the kitten. I thought of the puppy pictures of Prince Buster we had in the back. One day that kitten will likewise pass away. We all know and understand that. But that’s not what’s important. Pets die, but we all continue to own them, love them, adore them. Because to be a part of their lives is worth it. For me to work on keeping them happy and healthy for as long as possible, it’s worth it.

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April 2, 2013

4 Apr
Seattle Mariners

Seattle Mariners

I walk into work and it’s a hectic day already. I run around doing a couple of things before I look over and see that Dr. G needs help with a patient. I go over and hold the dog for him while he talks to Dr. S about a case. I wait until there’s a lull in the conversation.

“So the Yankees lost pretty damn bad last night,” I say.
“5 minutes,” Dr. G cuts me off. “It took you 5 minutes to bring that up. God damn it.”
“You could practically see her bursting at the seams,” Dr. S adds. “I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did.”
“I was trying to not make eye contact with you as soon as I saw that smug smile on your face. So I guess the Mariners won last night?”
“As a matter of fact, they did!” I say. “We officially have the best record in baseball.”
“Watch what you say,” Dr. S says. “It’s only April.”

But, no, I will not watch what I say. And I won’t do it BECAUSE it’s April. I’ve been burdened with falling in love with a team that has not performed well at all in recent memory. I remain faithful nonetheless, but it has brought be much heartbreak and disappointment. It’s April. Anything can happen this season. We could win the World Series! Of course, I’m realistic and don’t think that will happen. But the possibility is there. I’m going to enjoy every win, especially for this moment in time when we are at the top of the standings.

I’m writing this on a Wednesday evening, and by the time this goes onto my site, we could have two losses in contrast to the two wins we have. But we’d still be at .500! In a more optimistic world, we might have swept the Oakland A’s and remain atop the standings. It’s April! It’s baseball season!

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27 Before 27: Go to a Hockey Game

2 Apr

2013-04-01 19.09.58 In my 27th year of life, I’m attempting to do 27 new things. Full list here.

Going to a hockey game was a high priority for me on this year’s list. I like sports, and nothing beats going to a sporting event live. I didn’t (still don’t) know a ton about hockey, but it seemed fast paced and exciting. I panicked there for a while during the lockout, then I panicked because all of a sudden it was April. But, alas, I found my way to a New Jersey Devils game.

I’m an underdog kind of lady. I like the idea of a team that is somewhat hapless, somewhat less funded, more like me. I must admit, though, that I know next to nothing about hockey, but the New York Rangers come off like a Yankees sort of team, all Madison Square Garden and all. The Devils are endearing to me, because they’re in Newark and that seems like an underdog kind of town. Plus the Prudential Center (more affectionately known as the Rock) is a beautiful arena.

The first thing I noticed as the game began was how difficult and athletic hockey looks. I’ve played my fair share of sports and defending, passing, goal attempts, keeping track of who on your team is open are all difficult tasks enough. These guys are doing it on ice! Hockey is an aggressive sport with a lot of fights and slamming into one another, but it is also graceful and impressive. The way they maneuver around one another, pass, shoot the puck. Hypnotizing. I don’t think I ever felt that awe-struck watching hockey on television.

The New Jersey Devils are also a lot of fun. The reason to follow a team is the camaraderie of the fan base. In any sport, players, coaches, championships, controversies will all come and go. The reason anyone stays faithful to a specific team is because of the community that you become a part of. I liked the raucous nature of the Devils fans. They had a chant that went simply, “Ranger suck, Flyers swallow.” They weren’t playing either team that night. Just chanting it to remind themselves.

But, hands down, the best part of the night was during one of the intermissions after period one where they let little league hockey players play. Their jerseys were down to their ankles! Unreasonably adorable. I’m ovulating just thinking about it.

2013-04-01 19.44.28

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Cooking with Chrissy

27 Mar

That’s what I’d call my cooking show if I were every offered one by the Food Network. But that’s ridiculous, because I’m not that good of a cook. But it doesn’t stop me from talking aloud to myself when I cook, pretending there is a camera on me.

I love going out, and I do it quite a lot. But going out as much as I do makes staying in that much more wonderful. One of my favorite things to do when I have a night in to myself is to cook.

It’s odd that so many people in my generation don’t know how to cook for themselves. Not even that they don’t know how, but they almost seem proud of it. I think for women it’s some sort of defiance against traditional roles of domesticity, and for men it’s falling victim to gender stereotypes. I recently had an inebriated gentleman telling me how he knows how to cook, how he could cook amazing things for me. I could tell by the look in his eyes that I was supposed to be impressed, that most girls swoon. All I could think was, “I cook fine on my own, thank you very much.”

I used to be one of the masses that survived on boxed mac and cheese and microwave quesadillas. Then I went to Prague and met a girl in our program named Shauna. She was older than most of us by a couple of years and loved to have us over to cook us dinner. The first time she cooked for me, personally, I was blown away. Roasted potatoes, steak with homemade sauce, sauteed vegetables. I hadn’t had food that good in such a long time. She told me about how she was dating a guy in the military when she was younger and taught herself to cook on a hotplate he had. Her skills grew from there.

As soon as I got back to the States, I set out teaching myself to cook. No classes, no Food Network, no fancy cookbooks. I just found some recipes on the Internet that seemed doable and went from there. I’d say the first year of cooking I averaged 50/50. Half of the things I made were decent, and the other half were hopelessly flawed. I think this is where most people give up. They make a couple of bad recipes and decide they just don’t have the cooking gene. Not true! It’s like making a batch of pancakes, the first flapjack is always bad and must be tossed. Likewise your first lasagna might be watery, your first stir fry might be completely bland, you might burn the chicken the first time you bread it. You learn what not to do, you figure out little tricks, you figure out what you LIKE in food, and best of all you learn a way to add creativity to every recipe you touch.

Tonight for dinner I tried out a recipe for Chicken Parmesan that I found on epicurious.com. Not a difficult recipe but the results were amazing.

2013-03-27 20.18.46This was unbelievably delicious, I stuffed myself to the brim, and I have two lunches worth of leftovers. But the thing about cooking, it isn’t just the end result of a satisfying meal that makes it worth it. It’s the process. I like to put on my Professor Longhair/Muddy Waters Pandora station, pour myself a modest alcoholic beverage, and wear my polka dot apron. I shimmy around my kitchen, shaking my butt to the blues, taking swigs of my drink when I have a moment. It’s easily one of the most relaxing, enjoyable things to do at the end of the day.

Today was an average day at work, and there is nothing particularly stressful or bad going on in my life. But during those times, cooking becomes so important. Eating is such a primal need, and when I set out to make a recipe, my brain kind of shuts off all other worries and concerns. It’s comforting to know that sauteeing garlic and onion in butter is going to create a heavenly aroma, that breaded chicken is going to beautifully sizzle over medium heat, that if your soup is too thin, grab a bit of corn starch and fix it.

If you don’t know how to cook, don’t worry. You are totally salvageable. Just grab a recipe and start going.

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Moneyball by Michael Lewis

25 Mar

moneyball_book_cover_01_custom-ea36630e47960157244ed4290140853c60db41a8-s6-c10 As a general rule, I try to not read books when I’ve already seen the movie version.  I’m more a fan of books than I am of movies, but once I’ve seen a movie, I have a hard time enjoying the book, as I’m comparing it to the movie, seeing specific scenes in my head. It taints the whole experience.

“Moneyball” by Michael Lewis was something I read to alleviate the constant itch I’ve had the last month for baseball season to start. 7 days. 7 DAYS!! Can you believe it? I’m actually nervous for the season to start, because I have been so overwhelmingly busy the last couple of weeks, I’m stressed about how I’m going to squeeze my requisite baseball watching time into an already tight schedule. What’s a girl to do?!

Anyways, this book , amazing. Michael Lewis is my personal nonfiction hero. The first book of his I read was “The Big Short” which was about the financial collapse. I personally have no interest in finance or the economy. But Lewis is tricky, interweaving what might seem dull information into personal human interest.

With “Moneyball,” the success of the movie was a lot about dramatizing the human interest aspect of his writing. The book, though, goes so much deeper into sabermetrics, the history of it and how it can be applied to evaluating players. For me, I’ve heard so much about sabermetrics and have a basic understanding of it, this book functioned as a good introduction into how it can be applied to the game.

Really, though, I’m just hungry for baseball. My first softball game of the season is Thursday, next Monday is opening day. I’m exhausted from a hectic couple of weeks. All I want to do is curl up with a ball game. Until then, I’ll just be listening to this song on repeat. It gives me chills every time. Does your baseball team have a rap song? On the off chance you said yes, there’s no way it as good as mine.

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Volleyball

13 Mar

Odor In The CourtSo, this is one of the most awkward things that has ever happened to me. Naturally, I must write about it.

I’m pretty active in sports here in New York. I’m close to both my softball and soccer team, and it is how I’ve made my closest friends in the city. However, it’s winter which means no softball, and my soccer team took a season off due to varying personal reasons. I was somewhat relieved to take a couple of months off the sports scene.

In comes my co-worker, her and her boyfriend are new to New York, and I recommended joining an intramural sports team as a good way to make friends. So they joined volleyball and loved it. They loved it so much that they asked me to join another volleyball team with them. I wasn’t enthused, but I wasn’t doing anything else, so I figured why not.

The three of us are assigned to a team, “Odor in the Court.” We were paired with a group of people that have been together for many previous seasons. They were so much fun. So much fun! I spent many a Wednesday night at the bar till 1AM, drinking shitty beer, sometimes rapping along to the theme from “Fresh Prince of Belair.”

But, you know, something was always off. They’d been together for awhile, and I always felt like the new kid. Every time they happily cheered, “Odors!” I cringed a little. But they were an awesome group, and I had that weird sense that I wanted to be a part of the popular kids group. I spent my weekends with my soccer team (my favorite people in the city) and my softball team (like a weird, drunken family), and on Wednesday nights I felt just a bit out of place.

So Spring is around the corner, the soccer team and the softball team are back together, and I am beyond excited for both. My cleats and my mitt are ready to go. So where does that leave volleyball? I really wanted to stay friends with them, but shit, that’s a lot of sports in one week, and I have to study, and I’m going to Paris, and I need some me time.

No worries, though, I promptly received an e-mail from the volleyball captain entitled “Next Season.” It was sent to me, my co-worker, and her boyfriend. The main line to read is this:

“I really do like you all and hope that we can arrange to hang / go out in the future, but I don’t think we’re going to have room to accommodate everyone for next season :-\”

It was followed my a lot of nice things about how we should all be friends and everything. But I still stared slack-jawed at my computer screen and thought, “What the piss? My volleyball team is dumping me!”

I nervously giggled, re-read it, and just didn’t know what to do. I quickly got a text from my co-worker saying, “Well, that was awkward.”

What do I do? I wanted to write back with something along the lines of, “Oh, I’m already busy with my OTHER teams. Didn’t want to be on your silly old team anyways!” But that sounds pathetic. Plus, there really are no hard feelings. I really didn’t want to play volleyball again! But, oh my God, what an awkward situation. I just..I don’t…what can you say to that?! Who gets dumped by their volleyball team? Me, I get dumped by my volleyball team.

Honestly, other than the natural sting of blatant rejection, I don’t care. I love my other teams, and I get that it’s tough as an established team to fit new people into the dynamic of the group. Besides “Mayan Apocalypse” is a far better team name. I’ll never be an “Odor.” I never was.

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