A Holly Jolly.

Jasmine, my roommate and activities coordinator whist I inhabit Kansas City, has been keeping us very busy since my arrival a month ago! We have been volunteering with church, attending services, playing with jr high boys, flitting to the theatre, going to the gym together but separately, and playing with all the fun people here. Notably, we hosted a Bill Cosby Holiday bash and went ice skating at Crown Center.

Hope you have a wonderful holiday season!

Love Love Love.

PoufPouf.

This is Sailor Ross "PoufPouf" Schneidmiller. He is Jasmine's cockapoo (or cockapoop, as I like to say). He will be three/twenty one years old on Friday. Just wanted to share some thoughts on having a four legged roommate for the first time in my life. As you may or may not know, my family has never had pets that were permitted/anatomically able to live outside of a cage or tank. My dad, being the turfgrass enthusiast, was never one to buckle to the pleads of little girls whilst passing the cardboard box of puppies at the grocery store. He claims that it has everything to do with a dog's tendency to tear up a yard, ruin the lawn, and chew on everything. Personally, I think it has more to do with his childhood history with dogs. You see, my dad grew up poorer than poor in China.... and dogs were dinner. No Fido at the Sun home, or else he might get barbecued for bad behavior. Oh yeah, it would have happened.

So..... Top Ten Fun Facts about Sailor:

1. He thinks he's a Chihuahua, as in, he thinks he can fit in your lap when you already have a computer in it.

2. He does really well on our way out when I take him running, but turns into a complete and unwavering nuisance on the way back. Why? Unsolved mystery.

3. Cockapoos are allegedly hypoallergenic, but he still makes my face/skin itch, and my nose run. He still sheds.

4. He has a hard time figuring out where our apartment is, but for some reason he always knows which way I want to turn on the trail outside, way before I get to it.

5. When we're running, he looks back at me every minute or so, as if to check and make sure I'm still there. I like to think he's relieved to find I am.

6. He hates men in hats. Odd, because I love them.

7. He becomes possessed when he's wet. I have been giving him baths pretty frequently since I moved in because, well, I'm new to the dog thing and he still grosses me out. Every time I finish he tears about as if he's been overtaken by the spirit of a schizophrenic.

8. He whines and scratches outside my door in the morning after Jasmine leaves, when I'm still in bed. He also barks at me if I'm in a chair and he wants me to scoot over.

9. He sleeps on the couch with his head on a pillow. I know, ridiculous.

10. He's a pain in the ass (sorry mom!).... and I kind of like him. God help me.

A Gaggle of Thanksgiving Girls

Jasmine's sisters and mom came and spent Thanksgiving with us this year. One of Kansas City's notable holiday events is the much hyped Plaza Lighting ceremony. The Plaza is a neighborhood here that is filled with shopping, restaurants, fountains, and the like (think UVillage). Every holiday season the buildings and shops are covered in holiday lights. There's a big falderal surrounding the initial lighting, on Thanksgiving night. This year the girls and I headed down for a fancy seafood dinner, and to watch the commotion. We ate, drank, merry-ed, and waited in anticipation for the big show. Guess what? Seven thirty rolled around and......the lights went on. Ha. Really. They went on, and that was that. People packed up their screaming children, couples walked on, and the night continued, just a little better lighted. Ah holidays.

Suits.

Did you see The Blind Side? It tells the story of Michael Oher and the Tuohy's. Believe me when I say that it's a phenomenal story, an affluent Memphis family taking in an option-less, penniless, meal-less black boy from their kids' school. They go on to feed, clothe, nurture, educate, and love this boy. This boy flourished and became one of the most desirable high school football recruits. He picked Ole Miss, the alma mater of his new family and beloved tutor.

and now.... a pathetic commentary on the state of athletics in the States:

the NCAA jumps all over Michael, his family, and Ole Miss claiming foul play. Those tightwad suits accuse that the Tuohy's purposefully chose to help Michael in order to benefit their school's football team. They even go as far as to say that they fear this will become a precedent among other affluent families in the South.

Uh, WHO CARES?! .... in fact, that'd be great.

This is enraging to me. A little perspective, please?! Even IF this were the case in this situation, no one should give a flying fart in space. If the worst thing this family could ask for from this child they stuck their neck out for was to follow their footsteps, I say have at it! You mean to tell me that 'integrity in recruiting' is more significant to uphold than food, shelter, education, and the love of a family?! Shut. up.

In fact, I would urge all family of means everywhere to have the tenacity the Tuohy's did to take in and care for a boy from the projects. I'm not saying it's right, but even if he was physically forced to play ball for whatever college they choose, so what?! Still an ocean's improvement from the first kind of life that boy had been given. This family gave Michael everything so that he could even consider college, who cares where he goes?! For the record, this was not the case in Michael's story. Of course, they wanted him to attend their alma mater, but in the same manner they hoped it for their two other children. You see, their encouragement towards Ole Miss was just further evidence that the love they had for Michael ran deep enough that they held the same dreams for him as their biologically given children.

Come on.

Well Hello, KCMO!

Check out the new digs! i'm living with my good friend Jasmine for three months in Overland Park, just outside of KC proper (think Bellevue to Seatown). This area is kind of 'burby for my taste, but I have to admit that I like the woodsy feel of this neighborhood. There's a superlong trail that runs along a creek, complete with tadpoles and wood plank bridges. Very Bridge to Terabithia.

As for work? Children's Mercy is a lovely place to work. Seriously. No one will believe this, but everyone I have met is just. so. nice. No joke, sunshines and rainbows all day every day. Slightly unnerving? yes. A completely welcome change? you bet. The rumors are correct, working at a childrens hospital makes all the difference. The icee machine adds a little flair, too.

Love Love Love.

mfe-mci

It's almost silly how much I enjoy and look forward to my long drives between assignments.

Pictures from McAllen to Kansas city:

1. Marsha's all packed up. I'm armed with showtunes and hydration. Enthusiastic!

2. First night in Austin, had to do Texas right and have my last meal at Rudy's BBQ. Much thanks to the Moore's for hosting me yet again!

3. Fun fact: just across the border into Oklahoma is a sprawling casino campus. Yikes.

4. Scenic turnout #a million

5. Fall foliage in Kansas.... note the lack of tumbleweed.

How Sweet it is.

These lovely ladies seen here enveloping Sammy are Brianne and Noelle. They're nine and a half. What's so great about this is I started nannying for their family when they were even younger than Sam. I watched these girls and their brother and sister through giggles, pukes, tumbles, steps, and all of the wonderful details in between. I will never forget watching Breezy projectile vomit milk from her crib or coming back from the bathroom to find three dozen crushed easter eggs on the floor. These twinsies were quick! If I was feeling particularly proud I would tell you that "Mimi" was one of their first words, and I was knighted as such by Wellie, on the right. I always joke about how I have known them since they lived underwater. A new generation of babysitters? I'm thinking we could get a two for one deal.
Love Love Love.

Service Animals Welcome only.

It has come to my attention that a great number of people in my life have not been subject to the anticipation, hopefulness, and horror that a blind date induces. As a season pass holder to bad blind date entertainment, I consider myself well versed.

Allow me to paint you a scenario:

You, an accomplished, reasonably well dressed/spoken/educated single person are minding your business living your life when approached by your coworker/neighbor/friend/eventual enemy.

"I have just the person for you!" they proclaim.

"Uh, really?"

"Yes they are so caring/nice/vaguely positive attribute! I just think you two would really like each other. He/She's just kind of shy. Want to go out with him/her?"

"Well, I'm flattered, but I don't really like the pressure of blind dates", you say respectfully while deperately looking around for a building/billboard/approaching squirrel to comment on to change the subject.

"OH COME ON. He/She could be the one! What have you got to lose?! You never know!" Enter guilt trip, followed by unknowingly insulting insights into your life like:

"what better do you have to do?"

"when WAS the last time you were on a date?"

"you'll never meet anyone with that attitude."

and my favorite...... "it's not like you have any other offers on the table right now."

So, you go. In the days preceding, your mood changes from sheer panic to indignant neutrality to just the slightest hopefulness. In this day, it's common that you and he have been communicating with each other, sharing intimate gems like:

"I was tired today, work sucks" and "YOU like the Beatles?! I like the Beatles!" If he's really enthused about this, he might even interject messages with an abundance of emoticons indicating smiling, frowning, barfing, whatever. Enthralling, I know.

As you get ready (because eff it, you still have to look good JUST IN CASE), you think about all of the crazy things that happen in this world like messages in bottles and bird migration. Certainly a successful blind date can't be that extraordinary.

and then the rain.

In my experience, the oh-NO moment usually happens upon first meeting. There are just certain things that don't work. Chain smoking is one of them. Wearing leather pants is another. Perhaps the most offensive is the wife beater and cargo shorts to dinner. I'm not kidding. Sometimes it comes later, when he admits to sleeping in his mom's bed sometimes, hates the sun or that he has never been to a concert. Most of the time, it's a general lack of charisma and personality.

Immediately you put on your gracious face. I'm told this is used by actors at awards shows, when they lose but still have to be on TV. You have to avoid ungenuine overenthusiasm, while pretending to still be glad to be there. My schtick is usually combined with a scooting all the way back into my chair, and playing with my napkin. I make conversation just like I do at other events I dont want to be at.... talking about my job, how much I like the Northwest, commenting on the music scene. That's my go-to regime. Feel free to implore it.

After the obligatory meal and ONE drink. You rise to leave. The other person jumps up and asks if you want to continue to a movie/walk/other bland date activity. You force a smile and fake a regretted look. You say one of the following:

"I would, but I have to go pick up my sister at the airport." --perfect, family related AND time contrained.

"I would, but I have to be at work super early and I can't be tired." --also good, but not foolproof.

"I would, but I promised my friend I would babysit in a half hour" --works because you're blaming your friend for having kids, and thus cutting the evening short.

He replies with a shrug and a "oh, ok....

welliwasstillgreattomeetyouyouresofuncanwedothisagain?"

You smile and say, "sure, I'll see you later"....knowing full well you will be conveniently losing his number in t-minus twelve minutes.

I usually run to my car, swearing to never do it again. In the past, I have faltered on this proclamation. However, last week I was pushed over the proverbial blind date edge. I now know that any great guy doesnt need to be set up. A real man sets himself up. So there.

EEK!

Isnt it just the most?!! Every Wednesday night I sit in front of the magical light box called TV and indulge in this entertainment delight. I hug my knees and giggle as I watch some of my favorite Broadway stars dance and sing to pop classics and timeless showtunes. I just can't get enough. No, I'm not ashamed to admit that if my high school had had a glee club, I would have been its president. Go ahead, rip my cool card. It gets damaged every time I wear a tutu anyway.

Wanted: a clue.

It's a strange and unnerving phenomenon that occurs about two-three years after you graduate from college. I call it Rapid-Onset Possibly Debilitating Soul Search Syndrome. You spend years studying your craft in college, you focus. You surround yourself with others who have made the same career/educational choices as you. You study, pass tests, do internships, train. You become qualified and then permitted to act as a bona fide nurse/accountant/circus trainer. A few years go by.... now what? You settle into your career, get a little comfortable and then realize: Uh, is this it? Cue letdown.

I have recently come to this. While I do love nursing, I have now seen that the part I love about nursing is what it gives me, not necessarily what I do. Everyone I know has heard me singing the praises of my profession. Those are all legit. I love the hours, the flexibility, the challenge, and the job security. But there's always a flip side. What's even more absurd about this happening is that I am hearing the same story with so many of my fellow peers. We just aren't sure this was the right idea. Sher hates her corporate accounting job, Stace is running in circles trying to stay on top of Texas oil, TL is a slave to her deskchair, I want to chase some butterflies.

Here are my qualms:

1. It bothers me that I only interact with people professionally during times of crisis. I want to be a part of people's everyday lives, to meet them during happy times, too. I want to be with people who are on vacation. Everyone loves vacation.

2. I never saw myself as a worker bee. I would like to be in more leadership roles. As a nurse, you only go to nurse manager. Holy paper shuffling. Yuck.

3. I sometimes have a hard time with the nursing population. It can be stereotyped to say that nurses are known for being overtired, overworked, cranky, overweight, lazy, and generally a bother to be around. Stereotypes are always started with some major evidence. Just saying.

4. In the setting of a hospital, there always seems to be an "us vs. them" attitude between nurses and doctors. This is horseshit. In fact, lots of nurses think it strange to find me texting a doctor. Guess what?! They poop brown just like the rest of us. This really irks me.

In lieu of these qualms, I have the thought that perhaps I might venture into other areas of interest. While I love travel nursing, I know that this won't be possible forever. I will likely be doing this for a long time, but I think it's fair to say that when I am finished travel nursing, I might be finished nursing in general. I have compiled a list of preferences in case I never grow the cohones to try another occupation. In no order of significance:

1. Be outside more

2. Dont sit around and get fat/ use my body in my work ...... ala the blue zone lifestyle

3. Make me cooler than I am now

4. no hairnets, business suits, or chaps.... generally must not be forced to dress like any member of the Village People

5. learn a superuseful skillset..... like woodcarving. or skydiving. or operating a crane.

6. interact with people during happy times

7. allow for an abundance of travel

8. encourage less focus on monetary motivation

9. get the opportunity to be a really good boss.... like Blake Mycoskie.

10. help me to learn contentedness.

PS. is this silly butterfly chaser wanting the American way? is it just never enough? if so, i'm moving to italy.

incoming.

I have completed my contract here in the Rio Grande Valley. I am thrilled to be unemployed for the next two weeks. I can't wait to start my drive tomorrow. Gotta admit however, as enthused as I am always to move on to another location, it is always bittersweet. I have been taking care of a certain patient now for about a month. She is very sick. As a result, I have gotten close with her family. Her mom gave me the tightest hug this morning, a big smooch on the cheek and told me "adios, chiquita. muchas gracias por cuidar mi hija". That pretty much makes all the ass wiping and tracheal aspirate worth it. Dang it, as much as I sometimes doubt my career choice, this is still pretty badass. Thankfully, I will have time to ponder all of this during the 1,043 miles I have to travel in the next few days.

stay tuned, I have been brewing some thoughts.

Premiering Nov 16th.

Your very own Thoroughly Modern Mingni will be progressing in her travels to Kansas City, MO. Among the benefits of this assignment are: living and adventuring with her dear childhood friend Jasmine, getting BBQ sauce up to her elbows at Arthur Bryant's, pretending to care about KC professional sports teams, working in the praised Children's Mercy Hospital, trolling the Plaza for eats and treats, and finding places to bike, hike, and run. Please consider the City of Fountains in your next travel plan. I am quite anxious for a runaway from the Lonestar State. Another change I am aching for? Cold weather. Odd as it may sound, I am delighting in the remembrance of my boots, outerwear, and scarves sitting in my parent's garage. I'm ready for a winter. KC for the holidays may be just the ticket. Tentative departure date: assignment terminates on Valentines Day. Then spring on the East Coast?

Choose Your Words.

I have come to a realization in the past few weeks that is definitely worthy of sharing with the overgratified youth of America. No matter what your argument is, no one will hear you if you don't say it well. Behold:
In this 3 month assignment, I had ponied into an apartment with two other travelers in the same situation as I. They had signed a lease for the months of Aug, Sept, Oct here in the RGV. As convenience would have it, I agreed to hop in for the last two months so we could all live together and save some cash. I was added onto the account as an occupant. Enter in that nasty old Mr Conflict. One of the girls abruptly quit after deciding that she deserved more than to float at work. (In case you don't know, travel nurses are always subject to float to other units when ours are not busy enough and other units need help. We are the scab workers, and are expected to be flexible.) She was getting married anyway, and probably was going to spontaneously combust from the stress of not being named Bridezilla while wanting to tear the flesh of her florist/cake decorator/ valet boy. So she left.
The other roommate, stuck around until the first of this month. Then decided, in a heated argument that involved hosp security, that she had 'rights' that were not being met. Up and left an hour into her shift, pointing fingers, yelling, and storming about. Not kidding, people actually do this.
As far as I understood, these girls had agreed with me that we would continue to split the rent three ways until the lease was up. After all, it's their lease to begin with. Right???
Well, I had originally written a check to one of the girls before she left, and she cut a check for the entire amt of rent to the leasing office on her way out. Five days later, the two girls decided they didn't want to pay rent for the last month. They're not here. Well, of course I refused and told them that I'm sorry they left, but I already kept my end of the deal and they can't change the terms on me now. It was already a week into the month and it was a done deal.
She stopped payment on her check.
.....because that's what mature adults do. Do you know what happens when you're living in an apt with a negative balance? Turns out, you get evicted. Never happened to me before, but the joke's on them. My name isn't even on the lease and those two girls are headed for a time of poor credit and rental history. It's just unfortunate that it had to be this way. What's worse, she still has my rent and utility money for the month and I couldn't even live there. She called it "collateral". Yeah, ok.

Maybe we could have reached some middle ground. Maybe I would have been more willing to hear her. Maybe her arguments at work were warranted. Doesn't matter, though because she acted so poorly. If you don't behave well, no one will listen.
You can be crusading for third world orphans, women's suffrage, or clean drinking water. If you don't present your argument well, you might as well be opening gunfire.

Warning: Seizure ahead.

I have made the executive decision that I will not be working beyond my Oct 31st contract here in the RGV.  I have had enough.  Details later, I assure you.  I just think it's time to move on, I'm starting to accumulate a poor attitude about my career, and I need to get going before it really sets in and I decide to chase diamondbacks on the Sahara.  I always seem to get stimulation overload every time I start shopping for a new assignment.  Because I don't get to be as choosy as travel RN's in the past, I'm constantly riding the fence between trying to get what I want, and not ending up unemployed.  EEK!  I've gotten calls about assignments for places all over, from RI to SC to DC to KC to MI, but for one reason or another, they don't work.  Yikesabee.  

PrayPrayPray.

Hola Nola!

You MUST go.  It's so silly and fun.  New Orleans is full of fun accents, gorgeous architecture, and whimsy.  Don't bring up Katrina.  You'll spoil it.  I know, it was terrible.  No reason to not wear mardi gras attire, sing karaoke, and flounce about in the streets.  While you're at it, you should sample the beignets at Cafe du Monde.  If you're there with a supergreat friend like Coco, she'll find you a awesome plank painting leaning against a storefront, steal it, and give it to you.  Warning: don't try accidentally/on purpose to go into a strip club.  They won't let you in without a male in your entourage.  Whoops.  I consider it serendipity.  Yikes.  Another warning:  watch for falling beads thrown from balconies above.  They kind of hurt when stupid guys THROW THEM AT YOUR HEAD.  

Love Love Love!

I'm no foreigner

I'm completely familiar with Mariah's vocal ability.  She was my first love, first cd purchased, my favorite song belongs to her still.  All of this had been overlooked as of recent by her poor fashion taste and penchant for plastic surgery/young men.  Have you heard her newest rendition of "I wanna know what love is"?  

Welcome back, MC. Leave the cleavage behind.  

Silly Girls.

Stace and I like to do childish things.  Labor Day weekend in Houston was no exception.  We played on the boardwalk, rode the trolley, ate disgustingly delicious food, and shrieked at the aquarium.  Eek Sharks!

the date.

It's been eight years.  Can you believe it?!  I was fifteen and about to start my junior year of high school.  It was to be my first year of Running Start at EWU, so I hadn't started yet.  I woke up at TL's (we had set the alarm to get up and watch this really horrendous morning talk show featuring Mario Lopez.....I shudder as I type.) and we turned the TV on.  First thing she sees is Tony Blair on the screen going on about how he and his nation will be strong to defeat any and all enemies.  Then she reads the banner across the bottom of the screen that says the twin towers were hit in an apparent terrorist attack.  Her conclusion, that she shrieked to me in the bathroom?  The damn British attacked us!

It's bizarre to remember how terrified I was, even from three thousand miles away.  I had nightmares for months.  Makes me wonder about the people who lost loved ones.  Do their nightmares stop?

Proud to be American on this day, even if not organically.

Love Love Love

Sweet Sam.

I have joined the ranks of Dads and Grandparents everywhere in being completely wrapped around a little girl's finger.  I'm gonna be a cheeseball about this.  I think about her all the time, I wonder what kind of girl she will become, and I wonder how much I will get to do with it.  I worry that she isn't being given what she deserves.  It's hard to love a little thing like her; you want to jump all over her world, spray her with invisa-shield and slay all dragons that dare threaten her every joy.    Sometimes I'm bitter with TL for bringing her into my life and making me fall for her before I was ready to settle down and help more.  That's really immature, I realize, but I feel secure knowing that I have made no guarantees of maturity on this thread.  All the same, as soon as I feel bitter I then feel so thankful because TL has never given me anything so great as Sam.  In all issues Sam-related, I find myself torn.  Wouldn't it be the right thing to do to just swallow my antsyness and go home for a while?  I could help out, be there to help raise her, start my subliminal messages about the Zags, Hudson jeans, and Apple computers.  In the same breath, won't I have so much more to offer Sam if I see as much as I can now, in order to tell her things later?  Am I just a selfish, silly girl chasing butterflies or is there some substance to my wandering?  There is no clarity. Lordy, I need to get out of Texas.  The grease in the air is getting to my head.  

The Silk Tape Road: Thai edition *graphic.

This picture of my arm is gross.  I know it.  It looks like I have kidney failure and am suffering from severe edema and third spacing.  This is what my heat rash looked like while I was in Thailand last July.  It was bad.  It erupted one night after I indulged in an hour massage and suffered a subsequent fever.  It was so bad I could hardly sit still.  I had heavenly visions of scraping my skin off with a grapefruit spoon.  The reason why I am subjecting my blog to this horrendous graphic is because it helps me tell the story of my run in with the Thai healthcare system, the silk tape road along the silk road, if you will.  

After two days of this, I admitted defeat and proclaimed that I was in need of intervention.  The antihistamines alone were not effective.  I needed steroids.  After a desperate failed attempt to call a friend in the States (thanks a LOT, dr jim) I was directed to our house mom, Pi Dang who tsked her tongue and told me, "you need doctor-skin."  My mind quickly panicked.  The one time I had ever seen a dermatologist I had to wait weeks and reschedule three times before I was seen for fifteen minutes.  I could not bear this.  Luckily, Pi Dang could not hear my inner whimpering and promptly guided me over a street from our guest house to the local "Doctor-skin".

I wish I had a picture of the inside of that office.  What I can offer you is this description:  it looked like the DMV.  Rows of bucket seats packed with people, all waiting for one purpose.  I sheepishly followed Pi Dang as she made negotiations in Thai for me to be seen.  I could feel the glares as people noticed and were horrified by the condition of my skin.  Had it been biblical times, a cloak and proclamation of "unclean! unclean!" would have been appropriate.  At first, the nurse at the reception desk said that the doctor would see me in three hours.  What a relief!  Three measly hours?!  No big deal.  Apparently, however, Pi Dang saw this situation as being more dire.  She waltzed right back up and engaged in some seemingly friendly dialogue, which miraculously ended with my wait time being cut to thirty minutes.  I fervently stammered a prayer to God, asking Him to bless Pi Dang like He has blessed no other.  

After waiting awkwardly in the "dmv" and ignoring the children who pointed and made disgusted faces, I was shown in to the doctor's office.  The cutest gray haired Thai man ever waited for me, with his UV light on.  He intently studied my every extremity twice, before peering over his rimless glasses and declaring: "this is very bad."  I had to laugh, while wondering the cultural ramifications of a foreigner threatening his life if he didn't give me some steroids.  Luckily, this wasn't necessary.  The dear, Harvard educated man wrote me prescriptions for everything I could ever hope for.  

I was then ushered to the front desk, where the nurses of this office filled my prescriptions and explained my medications to me.  I was handed four little plastic baggies with exactly enough pills, and two creams.  As she was tallying up my total, the nurse looked at me apologetically as she told me my due for the six prescriptions and my office visit: 820 baht (read, 27 bucks).  She perked up however, when she told me that upon knowing my ethnic background, she charged me the lower, Thai price.  "Chinese close enough," she shrugged.  I could have leapt over the counter and kissed her.  

Imagine, if you will, what this fiasco would have been like if I were in the States.  Should we even start?!  Nah, let's just grin and appreciate how much better they do it over there.  Obama, take note!

Available by Catalog?

I was struck by this while in the Gap in Houston last weekend.  are we selling jeans here, or the men?   

The product description reads:

Homo sapien male.  likely hunter/gatherer.  tendency towards violent video games and toilet humor.  available in easy (no tequila required), loose (not even beer required), boot (cowboy edition), straight (gay available by special order), standard (basic potty trained only), and authentic (meaning warm body with a pulse).  

additional training required for functional relations. 

requires many meals, laundry services preferred.

batteries not included.  

(500) is not enough.

Did you love it? I loved it. She's enchanting, and everything I want to be. He's a dork, but has now been added to the quirky nerds that I love list. A realistic and fresh take on modern courtship. j'adore.

ok...i've been asked to elaborate.

My Top Ten Ingredients to make a Great Movie

1. the unassumingly adorable awkward leading man.

2. an ever evolving setting (ie. NOT Castaway)

3. a story told in flashbacks, the badder the hair, the better.

4. really great wardrobe including, but not limited to, a man who can wear a casual tie with sneakers.

5. grumpy old men. this is not limited to Walter Mathau. any grumpy senior will do.

6. a rousing dance number.... ala Fame.

7. the inappropriate but ever so insightful best friends...ala Ducky of Pretty in Pink.

8. when things don't go the way you want them to.

9. integration of live action and animation.... ala Mary Poppins.

10. A phenomenal soundtrack. The one for (500) is now up there with Forrest Gump, Garden State, and Remember the Titans.

happy watching. love love love.

Perspective.

This is the jungle gym us Thailand trippers chipped in for while we were there.   Phew, they're still cute.  Bad attitude aborted. 

Ramblin Woman.

Are you there, God?  It's me, Mingni.

It seems like I tend to have a mild identity crisis every time I go home.  I get so excited at the anticipation of seeing all of these people that I like, having tea at Madeleine's, macaroni at the Elk, and a drink at Zola, having Mark cut my hair, playing in Liberty Lake, and doing all of the other things that encompassed my upbringing.  So I go, do all of those fabulous things, and then comes the rain.  Usually an entire day I spend traveling to wherever it is I am going is tainted by this lingering knot in my stomach.  Do I hate Spokane?  Why is it that I really keep leaving?  Is it really disdain for this place?  Doubt it.  Certainly isn't the people, for I can think of no other place where I possess such a concentration of humans I like.  Plus, I now have a snuggly goddaughter to love and not miss out on at all times.  If this all fell apart tomorrow, you bet your ass I would be lugging my tambourine to Kirsten's house on the North Side to hibernate for the winter.  

This weird psycho phenomenon had never been so potent as it was this last journey.  I had just come off of an enchanting trip to Thailand, spent two glorious weeks on the water with friends and family, and celebrated everlasting love at Rach's wedding.  In hindsight, I could be anywhere right now and probably feeling let down.  I'm bummed out.... and I don't wear that well.  I'm annoyed that I didn't have time to do all the things I wanted and see everyone I like.  I'm jealous of the breezy nighttime weather up there.  I've started to loathe Mexican food. I have to actively remind myself that I would be feeling differently had I chosen to take a new assignment in a new place, rather than returning for another three month stint here.  To be fair, I got over my relocation remorse in about four hours when I ran off to NYC and PHX.  However, I cannot help but admit to the fact that the thrill in McAllen is gone.  One of my favorite aspects of travel nursing thus far has been the thrill of figuring out a new place.  Scouting out the grocery stores, weaving through the highway system, finding places to hike, scouring for a local concert.  Meh, I've done all of those things here.  I'm over it.  I need a life coach to follow me around and constantly spit affirmations of perspective in my face, like:

"It's only three months"

"This job is ideal"

"There are people without jobs at all"

"You ARE close to the beach"

......."GET OVER YOURSELF, PRINCESS."

Am I really so habitat-ADD  that I'm over a new place after a mere two months?!  Doctor, doctor,  gimme the news.... I got a bad case of ants in my pants.  

I promise, I do love this life.  Nothing exhilarates me more than new faces and places, and I'll probably be over this in like, half an hour.  I just should have known better than to think I'm mature enough to stay still for a minute.  

Note to self:  subpar levels of assignment enthusiasm conjure remorse over leaving home. Yikes. I'm pathetic. 

URGENT.

Go get this book.  Lock yourself in a corner of your choosing, and devour it.  My lovely Mrs Byrd (see below!) included this read in my bridesmaid gift.  I carried it around all day on Monday through my travels before opening it in Houston (at the Bushport, as I like to call it) to just skim the first page.  I ended up swallowing it whole in two hours.  In fact, so moved was I that the lady next to me had to ask what I was reading, because she couldn't ignore the tears streaming down my face.  Pathetic, I know!  Don't even call me to ask me to mail you my copy.  You can't have it.  I need to have mine so that I can reread, highlight, and memorize certain lines.  I want you to experience it as I did, with no expectations, so I won't tell you much about it.  But I will tell you this: if more people lived and thought like this man, our lives would rock so much harder.  

She's Like a Byrd

Last weekend, one of my best friends Rachael got married to Andy Byrd in Chelan, WA.  For those of you who don't know, Rach is one of my favorite friends, and definitely one of the inner circle.  Eek.  Adulthood is creeping in on me!  I was pretty thrilled to get to play bridesmaid and have VIP access to this event.  It was a superfun weekend filled with water, small town dive bars, and quirky family dynamics.  Although I did not give a toast at the reception, I totally think I should have.  I might have said this:

 "With Rachael and I, it was definitely love at first sight.  We were sophomores at GU and living across the hall from each other.  We had both gone to small private high schools, we both liked to have dance parties in the dorm, and we both think racial jokes are funny.  She likes to act asian, I pretty much act white.  But more than these similarities, we also shared a similar outlook on love and relationships.  We were young, charismatic independent women, damn it.  While the idea of twitterpation and dinner-for-two is appealing, we were just as happy being single and free.  .....but then they came.  The boys in Rachael's life took over and I teased her incessantly about how she had gone soft.  I might have even used the word 'pathetic'.  Then she found Andy and declared him the One..... and I had a seizure.  But the truth of the matter is this: as much as I might roll my eyes and gag at their goofy love, if I could find a love so giving and committed..... well, I guess that would be okay."

Congratulations Rachael and Andy! 

Byrd wedding pictures

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