Turkey Party

After my last entry, I got quite a few phone calls and emails about the turkey soiree. 

"100 people?!  You have got to be kidding?!!" 

Nope, it went out to 100 people.  However, only 10 showed.  When the email went out announcing the Thanksgiving bash for the orphans, the program medical director responded that perhaps the host should be the official program's social chair as he has done such a great job arranging parties like Halloween and whatnot.  The guy immediately responded that he wasn't the social chair, it really was his wife.  This became a big joke, but she apparently didn't get it because when the story was relayed to her, she accepted it and asked about the tresury to hold such parties. 

J and I were in charge of the turkey, stuffing, and cranberries.  He spent most of Wednesday afternoon researching recipes.  I also asked my dad for his recipe.  We didn't make my dad's bird though as J felt he just couldn't compete with his and really wanted to start our own tradition.  Fair enough.  We brined the turkey in an apple herb solution, I made a wine butter basting sauce, stuffed the sucker with stuffing, and made 3 bags of fresh cranberries.  This was all done with multiple calls to my family, whom I call 1-800-save-thanksgiving. 

At 1:00, we packed up the poultry, Edgar, and other needed items to head to the west side of town.  The bird was roasting, we were snacking, and actually watching Dr. Phil when the host arrived home from work.  By 3:00 people were starting to show up.  Edgar only snapped a few times at the other dog to establish dominance, but I was a mortified parent.  The house was a bit smokey (due to the high high setting of the oven which I quickly fixed), and the wine was flowing.   By the time the wine was flowing I truly didn't care when one person asked for free social work services and began to tell her story about trying to date her superior.  The guys evesdropped and couldn't resist.

"You mean, you've been underneath him?"  They chuckled while playing Mario Kart.  That rather ended our semi-therapy session.

Our hosts had set up the dining room which rather resembled a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.  We were one step up from using the ping pong table, but we did have a rather odd assembly of folding chairs, card tables, and what appeared to be Kmart furniture.  This is where the snob in me came through.  J and I had lovely linens we registered for our wedding.  There wasn't a thought about even placemats or candles, however we did have crystal goblets.  One person grabbed a roll of papertowels at the last minute for napkins.  The table was incongruent to say the least.  The host was extremely excited to use his electric carving knife on the bird; one of his wedding gifts.  I'm an old fashioned use-a-regular-knife kind of gal, but whatever. 

Once seated, one couple was very religious and had their own prayer between themselves while the rest of us expressed thanks that everyone was here and began to dig in.  The food was warm, the gravy was actually decent, and the bird was moist.  Unbelievable.  We tried to keep the dogs quarantined and away from the table, but Houndini made a comeback and escaped 3 times.  The last time he actually taught Bailey, the puppy, how to do it.  I don't think our host was amused especially when her dog (who is tall enough to put his head on the table) ate a piece of turkey thus violating his food allergy diet.

After dinner, one of the residents actually had to go to work for the night shift, which left the rest of us to play Trivial Pursuit.  The girl on my team, blurted out every answer she knew regardless of who's turn it was causing us to lose the game.  By this time I was wearing thin.  I was tired.  It was only when the host turned on Weird Al Yankovick that I knew I needed to go home.  Last time I checked, most guys lose their facination with Weird Al after the seventh grade, but not this doctor. He knew all the words to "White and Nerdy," or the pancreas song.  His wife finally asked that he turn it down.  The evening ended when "Grey's Anatomy" started and the residents settled in to watch arguing about who was cuter McDreamy or McSteamy, agreeing that McSteamy really was the epitome of a sugery attending, and laughing at the improbabilites of the medical cases as well as criticizing the medical decisions.  We left and saw the way too early Christmas lights already turned on in various neighborhoods going home.

All in all, it was a Thanksgiving I will remember.  It was our first turkey.  It was our first community holiday, which is what the holiday is all about.  Next year we will be down under in Australia for a wedding involving kilts during the Thanksgiving holiday weekend.  Never a dull moment.

Gobble, Gobble

My father does a mean turkey. 

When he retired years ago before returning to the workforce selling houses, he took on a new hobby of cooking.  He took his new job very seriously.  The man watched food tv non-stop, became proficent on the internet searching recipes and the weekly trip to the grocery store was a pilgramage.  When my future kids become young adults, they will be talking about how nothing can beat grandpa's cooking.

My mom, who began the cullinary adventures of the household, thought my father's new obsession was a mixed bag.  Yes, how wonderful it was to have him helping out, but dominating?  This was the woman who piloted recipes for Junior League cookbooks and thought hosting 4 course dinners for Dad's business associates was fun.  Not to rain on his parade, she watched my father "improve" on staples of the household like beef stew and then solicit applauding audiences for his ego.  I tell you, she has a firm sense of self worth.

Thanksgiving has always been THE highlight of my father's year.  He spends weeks planning for the holiday and literally has it down to a science.  There are specific twists he incorporates into his feast.  For instance, the cranberries have a dab of horseradish in them (amazing, let me tell you), and my maternal grandfather's turkey is now brined, smoked, and stuffed to golden perfection.  Not once can I remember there being dry meat.  My mother has incorporated Ginny's gravy science into lump free, sometimes giblet free (family joke), perfectly seasoned sauce. 

Thanksgiving is the holiday my father looks forward to sharing with his siblings.  The tables are formally set and it seems everyone looks forward to the event.  Everyone brings something.  One aunt has replicated my grandmother's sweet potatoes (which is hard to do as she was notorious for leaving out ingredients when giving you recipes), another always brings pies, and there is always a relish tray and rolls.  I brought the rolls last year and they turned out TERRIBLE.  (J and I were in the middle of fighting while I was making them.  It was not a pretty holiday as I then sat in the kitchen complaining to Ginny and my aunts while he was off with his clan.  Bad, bad news.)

I'm almost ashamed to say that this is my very first Thanksgiving away from home in my 31 years of life.   I'm attempting to figure out how to create a new ritual in my marriage 1700 miles away from family.  J and I thought it would be good to have Thanksgiving with some of his residency friends with whom we are particularly close. 

I ordered a free range organic bird from Wild Oats (J obliged me on this one as although he is not a butterball guy, tyson should work just fine).  I figured this was step one in trying to replicate Dad's piece de resistance and even my brother said, "Of course you're going to do Dad's turkey because its the best, right?"  (However, J has been doing internet searches on other ways to prepare poultry.)  I also began to collect things like gords (round two after Edgar ate the first batch) for decorations.  One problem:  his friends are either on call or working night float Turkey day while he actually has 4 days off in a row. 

Another doctor's wife suggested that we combine efforts and do one together.  Before I knew it she had planned the event with me as co-host for all orphans of the 100+ person program.  This is not turning out to be the intimate gathering we had planned on nor will my 14 pound bird feed the lot of us.  Last Friday night we went out with the festive couple and try to clarify the expectations around the event.  I somehow lost this conversation and ended the night with her programming my cell phone number into her phone so we can divide up the dishes and plan.  I'm still in denial about this.

After some talk, J and I have decided to host our original version of the holiday only on Friday while bringing some sides to Thursday's extravaganza.  However, we have yet to talk to those for Friday's soiree. 

While I have envisioned a quaint candlelit table with our wedding linens and perfect turkey, what I'm realistically expecting is a dried out bird that is three hours late.  It will take years for me to live up to my parent's portrayal of the holiday and hopefully by then we'll be back in Salt Lake at their table.

Following Friends off Cliffs

Recently, and I mean within the last month or so, I have had more friends and family announce that they are relocating across the country.  Its like there is something going on in the heavens (must check Zodiac) that is telling people that the "in" thing to do is uproot everything you think as comfortable and normal and start over.  Really, from experience I can tell you that living out of boxes, getting lost in scary neighborhoods looking for grocery stores, and trying to find basic contacts like hairstylists, are not activities that people count off as fun.  I actually think the stress inventory checklist actually rates moving as one of the top stressors outside of having a loved one die. 

When I was younger I used to think it was a very romantic notion to just pick up your life and start over in a new town.  I actually purposefully sought such opportunities after events like graduation or breaking up with someone, but eventually I landed back home.  Its kind of like when you have no money and are out browsing through stores that you find the perfect pair of shoes that costs a bazillon dollars or the perfect outfit.  You never find stuff when you are looking for it.  Kind of like the opportunity to move.

My brother will be relocating to Las Vegas in the next few weeks.  He's going down there with a job offer, a rented van, and a combination of hope and prayers.  He doesn't have a place to live but also remains confident that there is a social group off of the strip.  I get the feeling that he is ambivalent about this relocation.

My aunt and uncle will be moving to New York next spring.  They will be close to other family members there and I think they just really love the area.  I think the remaining sibilings in Salt Lake are trying to figure out how their absence will impact the care of my grandfather, which again is stressful.  Ultimately, they are doing what feels right and that is great.

One of my closest friends is leaving Katrina's continued havoc and will be relocating from Louisiana to Houston.  She is a newlywed and is really looking out for her future children.  She wants them to be near family and to be in a place of more opportunity.  Its kind of scary for her now though as they are in mid-change and while she has a job that is waiting for her, the house is now on the market and her husband is working with a head hunter. 

My best friend and her husband just went through a week of hell trying to decide to take a job offer and move from Salt Lake to Dallas.  The change went about extremely quickly and there were a lot of factors to weigh.  They too will be near her family, but leaving his.  Her masters degree is almost completed, but she will need to resume in a different program.  This is of course, not to mention having her uproot her twins.  For me, I have a selfish issue in the fact of I'm wondering when I will see her.  This factor makes me sick to my stomach.  However, the good news is most of the ya yas will now be in Texas/Lousiana for group visits.

Another friend moved to Appleton, Wisconsin right after finding out she was pregnant and only a short tenure at her dream job.  It was a planned move with their two year old, but stressful none the less. 

And yes, another friend just found out yesterday he is moving from DC to the Miami area.  I haven't gotten the details yet, but I suspect he is welcoming a change and yet ambivalent about the terms.

And the most exciting and exotic move is my cousin with her Colombian husband relocating from Japan to Switzerland with their little one.  That, my friends, is true culture shock.

I can't help but think of when parental figures would ask you, "If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you jump too?"  No no, its not like doing anything crazy like doing drugs or running around with the wrong crowd, its just moving during the holidays.  Oh wait, maybe that is a cliff...

Potato, Pohtato, Let's Call the Whole Thing Off

Yesterday I attended my first system wide management meeting.  They hold these monthly and I'm actually pretty used to going to these as I had them back in SLC at my old job. 

Typically this is the meeting where big HR initiatives are given a sneak preview to the management along with "talking points" on how to really paint the picture of an opportunity, not a challenge.  For instance, when you are telling staff that their insurance premiums are going up you can phrase it like they are getting an opportunity to further invest in their personal health.  I wish I were kidding.  Other things they cover is budget, patient care initiatives, strategic plans, and regulatory processes.

The best part of these meetings is the food.  Typically, they feed you.  One of the bonuses of being senior leadership.  Its not really catered with a full meal, but back in Salt Lake I was always happy to see the carafe of Starbucks coffee, warm doughnuts, real milk, juice, and tea.  I'd get my provisions, exchange niceties with folks and then settle into my comfy chair in the auditorium to then listen to a very well run meeting by the COO. 

Given my small but recent past with this organization I knew not to hold my expectations too high.  I was surprised to see some snacks actually provided.  Chex mix and what looked to be a vat with a spigot labeled, "coffee" on the masking tape.  There were also non-dairy powdered milk and crusty sugar packets.  I passed the all so tempting snacks.  I entered the very dim large auditorium which really made my high school auditorium look state of the art and went to pick my seat.  It took me 2 times before I found one that wasn't broken.  As I settled into my dingy green chair with springs very palpable, I noticed that the auditorium was really filled.  For a company with only 3000 employees, they seemed to have had about 150 there.  Its like they couldn't decide who was appropriate for the meeting.  Turns out that everyone from directors to managers to coordinators to supervisors were included.  With so many people, it was hard to maintain control of the group and multiple side conversations took off.  The sign in sheet was a clipboard with a mylar smiley face balloon attached to it being passed from person to person.  I was surprised to see the interim CNO/mental health CEO nurse run the show.  Well, attempt to run the show.  Where was the COO/CEO?  We sat around for 10 minutes trying to do positive stories in patient care. I then heard how it is going to take 2 years for the chaplains program to complete a religious library and survey the staff needs. 2 years???   In the end, we never made it through the agenda and went over time.  How in the world does this happen?

Perhaps my expectations are too high.  I realize I can't compare apples with pomegranates, but holy cow!  I find that the simplest things I ask about become the largest discussion without resolution.  The other day I asked what the standard was on documenting disciplinary actions.  This landed me in a philosophical debate about how corrective action works in a recovery model.  I don't freakin care!  Just give me the policy and forms and I'll make it happen! 

I'm also finding that all of my meetings with mental health people turn into a therapy session.  There is a lot of reframing, summarizing, and then asking how you feel about things.  Nothing gets done.  Am I one of those people?  Good God do I miss the days when I had the no social skills medical staff.  How long am I going to survive in this system?

 

Just When You Thought Utah Was Bad...

Everytime one of my friends from graduate school came to visit me out West the inevitable topic of Utah's backwards liquor laws came up.  Private membership what?  A sidecar really isn't a drink with brandy but an extra shot?  What do you mean I have to finish one drink before I can order another?  These are all typical questions that get asked.

When the Olympics debuted, the legislature acutally wisened up to the sound of cash pouring in vs. the word of wisdom and revised some of the laws.  Note:  some.  I really couldn't specify which ones,  but I do remember one drunk evening at the Zephyr with my brother being interviewed (drunk) by some foreign correspondent on camera.  Liquor laws were such a hot topic, they actually did a feature on the issue. 

I was so confused in my drunken state that I'm not certain if I actually looked at the interviewer or directly at the camera when answering his questions, which at the time I thought I was eloquent I'm sure.  Looking at the camera seems to be rather lame looking directly into the lens, but that's probably what I did after a few vodka tonics....I also thought I was a hot dancer and was also captured on film.  So now, somewhere in a European country visions of my terrible booty shaking, hips don't lie, I'm too sexy disco inferno, I live on tape in some back room of a video production house...or if I'm lucky, somewhere on the cutting room floor.

At any rate, I thought that once I left the State of Utah, life as an imbibing citizen would improve.  I was so quick to jump and count my chickens before they hatched.  It is true that you can buy alcohol in supermarkets and other locations that are not State owned in Indiana, however I was quite shocked and disappointed when I learned that buying liquor on Sundays is illegal.  Hell, even in Utah you could buy beer in the grocery store on the day of rest.

Today, though, took the cake.  I recieved an email from one of the local gourmet restaurants that advised me that they were canceling their wine pairing dinner tonight.  Not that I was going, but I questioned the reason why.  I read on to find that in Indiana it is illegal to sell alcohol on election days until after the polls officially close.  Are you freaking kidding me???  How else are the losers going to soothe their defeat or the citizens toast the end of the mud slinging commercials? 

Yes, my friends, in Utah the Democrats at least can sip their vino post voting.