This Girl

There's nothing like a good practical joke; especially one that is lighthearted, with no malicious intent. Practical joking is sort of in my blood, inherited from my Father, most likely. Except the practical joking trait displays a wide range of continuous phenotypic variation much like, for example, height. The range of joking here would run from "that is soooooo not funny" to "ROTFLMAO". There may also be a certain degree of phenotypic plasticity here that explains the environmental influence on the funniness of practical jokes. For instance, consider the degree of funny on sliding a whoopee cushion under your sibling's behind. When done in the confines of your own home, during family dinner or perhaps a slumber party, well, yeah, that could be pretty funny. Done in the middle of church, with your parents two seats down, well, that could yield bad consequences for all those involved, including innocent bystanders. But, once again, I have severely digresse

My first job out of high school was a part time gig at a nursing home as a Tray Aide. My main duties were to make beds, exchange linens, fill ice and water pitchers in residents' rooms and help the Nurse Aides as needed. It wasn't long before I realized that the most important duty was one that was not a featured bullet in my position description, and that was to smile and greet each resident as I entered their home. Think for a moment, how it must feel to sit day after day in a "home" while being treated as a "patient." If taking a little extra care while making beds and chatting a bit with the residents brought them a little closer to home, well, it was the least I could do. One such resident was quite close to my heart. Agnes was a petite lady, with gray, thick hair and eyes that had long since retired, having lived a life of paying close attention to detail. Although Agnes could not see very well, she had a sixth sense in knowing who had entered the ro

So, I am not exactly the beacon of organization. I know this. I hide it well, but I know this to be true. Well, I guess I hide it well except for the four stacks of papers on my desk with themes like "stuff to file", "stuff to read", "stuff to read and then file" and "?". Another tell-tale sign lies deep within the drawer of my cherished antique desk that I once restored and saved from that ghastly, thick layer of dark green paint by which it was once covered. I pray that no nosey parkers open it, for inside lies every greeting card I've ever received, old keys, old key chains, junk mail that I refuse to believe is junk, all swimming around waiting to see the light of day. Or, more realistically, light of the living room. But, I digress. Anywho, although my organizational skills are a figment of the imaginations of those who hire me for my organizational skills, and that is a shortcoming, I am capable of learning from my mistakes. Please a

I promised that my next travel blog would be a list of the top ten reasons why you should visit Krakow. So, here I am to deliver. While these might be my top ten, they are in no way meant to be inclusive, and are in no particular order. Remember, I blog about whatever pops into my head, and single file does not exist in my head. Here goes. 1. Klezmer-Hois : Best. Jewish. Food. Ever. In the heart of Kazimierz, or the Jewish district, this little gem is worth it just to see the 16th century building that houses this hotel/restaurant. Words cannot describe the charm of this little house. See accompanying photo. We went there for lunch and should have gone back for dinner and the nightly concert. Next time. Definitely. 2. The People. One thing I like best about traveling is soaking up new cultures. And what would culture be without the people? The Poles are a sweet, friendly, jovial and proud people. Sure, there will be those who are "all business", but for the most part, we

To live in hearts we leave behind Is not to die. ~Thomas Campbell, "Hallowed Ground" Fall is my favorite time of year. I love feeling the cool breeze on my face, while the sun gently warms my back. I love the colors of the leaves over my head and their crunch beneath my feet. I love the other side of the woods revealed; having been hidden for an entire season. But just as this season reveals what lies inside the depth of the woods, it reminds me of the heavy burden of loss. For the woods to come alive, the leaves must descend to their death. Why the melancholy during my favorite time of year? It was around this time some 12 years ago, when I lost a friend whom I thought would live forever. Rayna was a first year medical student at SIU. I knew her from working in the hospital. She was never without a smile and if so, it was only for a brief second, as frown turned to smirk and smirk into smile. I always knew my shift was going to be more bearable when I walked in and

It has been said that Poland is dead, exhausted, enslaved, but here is the proof of her life and triumph. Henryk Sienkiewicz I have never read any of Mr. Sienkiewicz's works, but now that I know he is a Polish novelist, I am inclined to do so. You see, I have two loves in my life: my husband and Poland. The first, I fell for at the mere age of 16 and 1/2. The second, in July of 2010, when I first set foot on Krakovian soil. Let me back track a little. My heritage is Slovak. I know, this is not the same as Polish, but close enough. What's that they say? Same difference? One of my best friends once told me that I have a Puerto Rican soul. As flattered as I might be at this sentiment, I now believe my soul was born in Krakow. We started our trip in Hamburg, DE, visiting our good friends. What a weekend that was--perfect weather, perfect company and Germany winning their current match in the World Cup. It was there that I discovered the Sunday morning Fish Market, the "

There are two types of music I like to listen to while riding my bike. No, not Country AND Western. Happy and Angry. Seems kind of contradictory on the surface, but it really makes perfectly good sense. Carefully molding my Pandora radio station named after a song by Meredith Brooks that rhymes with "itch", has brought the perfect mixture of both happy and angry-sounding songs that has minimized the need to give song after song the thumbs down. Granted, every song has something to do with either breaking up or not being able to get what you want. But how can one be disappointed when Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me" is immediately followed by Sublime's "Santeria." I mean, really. Today, my bike ride was rewarded with two Yael Naim songs. The first, the ever smile-inducing "New Soul"; the other, a song sung totally in French and completely un-understandable to me, but makes me happy, nonetheless, "Paris". Hearing those French

It's my first day. I watch as the crowd exchanges cheers and jeers back and forth each time a new kid gets picked. I look back and forth from team to team and wonder with whom will I get stuck. It's my turn. They call my name again. Reluctantly, I rise and stroll to my fate. Taking my time. Dragging my feet so as to defer the agony that surely awaits. Now, it's time. I approach the stage and take the seat. Onto my head the Sorting Hat goes. And now.....I will forever be....a member of the house of....... Ok, so I'm not a character in the Harry Potter series. J. K. Rowling apparently did not even think to write me into the script. How could this be? Must be a mistake, because I surely feel like a character. Only the screen play is Reality. The setting, Life. The stage hands, those who set the norms. The players, you and me. And now.....Action. We are taught from an early age to be careful who we hang with, else we'll get a reputation. If you lie with dogs, after

Hal Stigler, owner of medium size business, Hal's Pal's, is feeling a little left out of the current political banter over our Nation's troubled economy. The Monee, IL entrepreneur has gainfully employed 102 local residents for the past 5 years, disqualifying his company from being classified as a small business , while bringing Hal's Pal's no where close to the same league as their big business cousins. "It's just not fair," said Mr. Stigler. "Corporations are rewarded with tax loop holes and bail outs and small businesses are constantly being heralded as job creators. Where are my loop holes? Where's my recognition for creating 102 jobs?" Mr. Stigler conceived the idea for Hal's Pal's while working to sooth his beagle's separation anxiety. Mr. Stigler's canine friend, also coincidentally named Hal, would chew his 6-year old daughter's dolls until the family returned home in the evening. The family tried everything

Yeah. Yay. Hoorah. Boorah. OMG. OMFG. Yippee. Youser. There are many ways to express pure, utter delight, awesomeness, triumph, glory, excitement, etc. You name it. If it is something to be happy about, there is sure to be a short word or acronym that is understood by the masses to convey that this thing about which you are so happy is a BFD. But the one word--or words--that I just can't get my head around is woot. I mean, is it supposed to be woot, or whoot? Woo-hoo or Woot-hoot? Woot-woot or....you get the drift. How is this supposed to be spelled and where did these many variations come from? Searching deep within my soul, I did the only thing I could, which was to go to urbandictionary.com and investigate the matter. Because, I'm here to tell you, I have been totally SMOed over this for some time. I mean really. Seriously. For real. But sadly, what I learned, as is usually the case with urbandictionary and all things in cyberspace, there is no one right answer. What

We were quite fortunate growing up. We had a real cherry tree in our back yard. Real cherries meant real cherry pie. And this was the only kind I knew for quite some time. I remember the first time I had cherry pie made with that thick, gelatinous, super sweet cherry pie filling that comes in a can. I felt so sad for those unfortunate people who had never experienced real cherry pie before. What a dour life they must lead. Never knowing that there is something better our there. Never quite grasping that real cherries are not encased in a thick, gelatinous syrup, are not all super sweet and more times than not, don't retain their plump, spherical shape during baking. Those poor people. How sad for them, indeed. Now that I think about it, though, this is not unlike the first time I had really good chocolate. You know, the kind that melts in your hand as well as your mouth. With the first taste of a real chocolate morsel, came the sad realization that I had been eating chocolate-fla

I can talk. What would you like to know? Pick a topic. We'll discuss. Yes, I can talk. The problem is that so can my husband. And he is much better at it than I. But I don't mind. His love of conversation--and his skill at it--is one of the things that drew me to the big lug in the first place. But just as capable as we are at talking, we are capable of sitting in silence. And we don't think there is anything wrong with that. One of my favorite movie quotes is from When Harry Met Sally: (Harry, to Sally) "It is so nice when you can sit with someone and not have to talk." How true is that? I often joke with my husband when we are dining out that people can probably tell we've been married a long time because we are usually the only couple in the place not talking. Take note, fine, young newlyweds--some of the best conversation you will ever have will come from not conversing at all. Yes, as the old saying goes, silence is golden. After perusing other quotes a

Granted, Jesus probably had something a little more spiritual on his mind when he spoke those words (thanks, St. John for sharing), but I cannot help thinking about how those words ring true for earthly Father-child relationships. **Caution--I'm going to get a little emotional here.** It has been seven years since my Dad passed on, and to this day, I still dread certain days of the year. For starters, the day I got that unforgettable phone call that will never escape my memory. I cannot get through that day without breaking down. Going home and having to face my Mom that night was probably the most intense and least pleasurable experience in my life. I always imagined more for my parents' retirement than one carrying on without the other. The two hardest workers I've ever known deserved the most peaceful and enjoyable time together after the last kid had left the house. After years of worrying how to put us kids through school were over. After years of working shift work an

The housing crisis has now hit home for a local Robin family. Pat and Susan Robin are finding themselves suffering from nest arrest as they struggle to sell their single-room dwelling so they can move into more spacious quarters. Going with the age-old real estate mantra "location, location, location," the young couple chose the uniqueness of a bicycle tire upon which to build their humble abode. The location is not turning out to be as big a draw to home buyers as expected. "We thought we'd start out small," Pat said. "You know, get a little starter nest going. After our first baby, we planned on getting a bigger place." The Robins thought they would have more time on their wings, but Mother Nature had something different in store for the now family of 6. "When I laid that first egg, I thought, great, it's over. We can finally relax for a while," said Susan. But the very next day, the new mom found herself laying another egg. Then anot

Well, folks, the Rapture has come to pass and I am still here. Best I make the most of it, right? It is quite likely that God said "That's it! I was going to start the Rapture on May 21st, but now that some guy down there thinks he knows the hour and the day, I'm not going to do it. They'll just have to wait!" However, I still can't help admitting that all the hoopla was a cause for reflection for me. And I did so, in the middle of a Keynote address at a Microbiology conference in New Orleans. Somewhere between being mired in the grandeur of gut microbiology and considering whether or not I agreed that Lamarck was right, I thought about my meager existence. For a split second. And when the ground didn't open up and swallow NOLA whole--Po' Boys, Hurricanes, Beignets, Chicory coffee and all--I forgot about it. But then, being surrounded by really smart people, I began to reflect once more. (Of course, one trip down Bourbon Street and the smartness disint

 If there were ever a more misunderstood and under appreciated concept than communication, it would be news to me. If communication were a cartoon character, it would be Charlie Brown. Lonely. Moody. Disgruntled. Unheard. Confused. Good intended. And occasionally, it would make people so happy, they would carry it around on their shoulders while yelling, “Hoo-Rah!” But communication is not a cartoon character. It is a word. And it’s complicated. For starters, it’s five syllables long. Really? The word that describes the act of sharing ideas, thoughts and opinions is five syllables long? That’s four too many. And look at the phonetic spelling: [k uh -myoo-ni- key -sh uh n]. What the? Hooked on phonics? No thanks. I think I’ll pass. Did Dick and Jane ever communicate? No! They saw. They ran. They looked. They played. They worked (apparently that book series was written before child labor laws were enacted). Simple words for simple concepts to help us learn what should be a sim

I finally get it. It took 36 years, but I finally get it. The other day I was asked my age. You would think that I was asked who the 16th president was. Or how many light years are in a year. Or what time train A arrives at Station B if it leaves Station Z traveling 43 mph, is traveling west with strong headwinds, and has to stop to allow train X to cross the track. But no, I was just asked how old I was. I was so flustered that I could not even subtract my birth year from the current. All I could remember is that I am 3 years younger than my husband and he just had a birthday. From that, I was able to deduce my current age. Looking back to my youth, I finally get how my Mom could be 39 five years in a row. Again, being slow on the uptake as a kid, it took me 5 years to realize something wasn't quite right. Back then, it was a "woman thing" not to tell your age. I don't think this was a "woman thing". Nor was it a brush off from a woman who apparently did

Does my obsession with the Royal wedding make me less of the educated woman I once thought I was? I think not! We women often talk about the endless search for our own brand of unobtainium--the mysterious work/life balance. Perhaps the answer requires a little escape from both work and life. When one has had a particularly bad day or week or 14.3 minutes, why not partake in a little frivolity to make your problems at least appear frivolous? After a day full of the mental equivalent of shoveling dirt to fill in holes left by the previous shift, I find nothing wrong with plopping on the couch, glass of red in hand and soaking up the culture our forefathers fought so hard to dispel from our shores. Well, Eastern seaboard, at least. Don't think they had ventured too far west as of 1776, but then again, history is not my strong suit. By watching the recap of the Royal wedding, I am reminded of all the dreadful worries that I do not have to worry about. For instance, I think it is safe

I'm an anomaly. I'm a woman, yes. I know this to be true. Just have to trust me on that one. But there is one thing that women are supposed to like that I just cannot stand. I hate the S-word. No, not that S-word. I mean shopping. In my frugal years, I thought I hated shopping because I did not like to spend money on items that I felt were over-priced. Now older and with a more lucrative job, I still don't like to part with money, but there's got to be something more to this. A recent trip to the closest shopping mall, in the midst of the fiery throngs of Suburbia, USA, enlightened my XX mind. And that's chromosomes. Stay focused! I conceded to this recent trip after a fierce negotiation with my husband (we are the married equivalent of a Union Boss and "The Suit"....not sure who's whom), who desperately wanted to go to the Apple store, but did not want to abandon me on our only day off together. Before I go any further, I must say right here and now