No talk, just kid pictures

Whalefest

Cynical, creepy old guy, propped up against the door jam, watching the kids as they flail about to the smiling, bobbing, saccharine filled duo Good Dog. That’s me. I did my best to participate in “WhaleFest” this weekend in Kodiak, in between calls of suicidal, dying, and fractured patients. It was a nice diversion, as lately the weather had been rainy, cold, and dark in Kodiak, and I was given the present of an Alaskan summer day in April. I find myself torn, however, as I watched the children’s show between comfort and mockery.

I have always had a very cynical sense of sense of humor and have relished it, despite the cutting nature. Often the tool of the insecure, my cynicism is no different, but hey, if you’re good at something…

This is where the children’s show comes in. I was wishing that Jackson could be around, while secretly being uncomfortable and a little embarrassed about being present myself. Will I get used to these things, or will I secretly despise them and work at keeping my mouth under control. Should I feel bad at finding humor in the job choice of adults who sing songs about Baby Belugas and howl like wolves? At least they’re not the freakin’ Doodlebops.

MacArthur Fellowship Dreams

I've never been one to be terribly impressed by celebrity. Perhaps it is because growing up in Alaska, my brushes with fame were few. I met Jim Varney at a mall once. Hey Vern! Yea, I had a picture of us, even, but for some reason my entire body with the exception of my arm was cropped out of the picture. I think my brother was jealous. I also swear that once, at a Journey concert, when the lights went up, I raised my fist into the air to celebrate the power of rock and the aural/spiritual experience that is Journey, and Steve Perry saw my fist rise commandingly above the crowd. He then simultaneously raised his fist and joined me in solidarity. The solidarity of rock and roll. (As one of many divergences in this post, I watch a lot of Happy Monster Band these days with Jackson and two of the characters are Rock and Raoul. They make me laugh.)

So if not celebrity, then what? Big brains, that's what. I used to love Scully from X Files, then it was the Pathology Fellow who taught our small groups (oh, those big words, so dreamy). Now my cerebral lust has taken the form of doctor crushes (hard to describe to non medical folks, but think of love and admiration without gender and physical intimacy, but with intimidation and awe for what you don't know or understand) and a new fascination with the MacArthur Fellowship . My first brush came with the reading of Atul Gawande's Complications: A Surgeons Notes on an Imperfect Science and secondly with the work of Sven Haakanson here in Kodiak (yes, I have ditched the family and am "working for the weekend", just like Loverboy immortalized in 1981). The Foundation provides a completely unrestricted $500,000 grant to trust smart people to do what smart people will do.

I swear I wrote this down before, but when I came down here back in January, I was checking in my luggage and the airline crew member behind the desk noted I was travelling to Kodiak and innocently asked if I knew Sven Haakanson. I hesitantly replied that I did, having recently worked on a treatise of world affairs and important cultural award winners. She then asked me to take him the frequent flier card that he had left behind. Again, this afternoon, I find myself flying with Dr. Haakanson. Stephen King calls the people we are mysteriously tied to "Ka". Often times there is no apparent reason for the more than randomly placed interactions we have with specific people. We all know this feeling. There were a number of people I "knew" in Tucson that I never actually met, but we went to the same places and ran in parallel circles. I am starting to think that Sven (can I be that familliar?) is in my Ka. Perhaps some of his brain money will rub off on me.

So, how did I start this conversation again? Oh, yeah. Celebrity. I am awed by smart people, not celebrity. I do have a soft spot, however for the ilk that are portrayed in the media, but for that I have The Superficial, and that is another post to itself.

Off the government dole!

It's finally happened. I may actually be legitimate and am apparently employable. After several interviews and job offers in far flung locales, I have taken a job right here in Anchorage at the same hospital, with many of the same people I have known over the years. Not quite the draumatic branching out that I had imagined, but a fantastic position as a Hospitalist. For those of you unfamilliar with the terminology, a Hospitalist contracts with clinic physicians to manage their hospitalized patients. It is also shift work, so I say goodbye to call, and will be working 7 days on, 7 days off. Yes, 26 weeks off a year. Don't get me wrong, I will be driving pretty hard while on shift, but 26 weeks off is hard to ignore.

Most importantly, this means that we will no longer be involved with WIC (the food assistance program for women and children) and out on our own again. Despite my insecurities about being on government assistance, it has been a true help and is a great program. The experience has also broadened my perception of what many of my friends and patients have been through.

Jana also goes back to work this week which leaves me as Mr. Mom for a couple of mornings this week. Wish me luck.

A few of my favorite things

There have been a handful of new discoveries around Fort Church these days that have become quickly accepted into our lexicon, or whatever the appropriate word is. These are as follows: Tortilla Land Uncooked Flour Tortillas, Mashups, and the Carl's Junior Cap'n Crunch Milkshake.

First and foremost, the tortillas. After nine years in Tucson, Jana and I became quite picky about our Mexican foods. Now, this does not mean that we became accustomed to fancy, elaborate or even well prepared foods. We simply acquired a taste for simple Sonoran style tacos and burritos that even the most under-rated, drive through, 3 a.m., after-a-bender food joints were able to produce down there (yes, I mean you, Los Betos, my one and only...). Surprisingly, Alaska has no shortage of actual Mexicans, but the food as a whole here is a tragedy. It has taken us almost two years to finally realize that most of this is related to the tortillas. Even the best places in town (yes, I mean you my sweet Taco King) use prepackaged, supermarket flour tortillas. This brings us to Tortilla Land Uncooked Flour Tortillas. These were bought following the recomendation of friends and I remained somewhat skeptical. There's no lard. Everyone knows that it is the lard that makes the tortilla. Canola oil, hmmph. Place one of these thawed doughy thin pages of goodness in a frying pan (no oil needed), however, and I was immediately transported back to Tucson to enjoy the food my abuela used to make. I have eaten more tortiallas this week than the past year. Now all I need to do is go to Sam's Club and buy some real queso.

Mashups. I have long wanted to be a member of the music world. I am what you might call "musically oriented" rather than musically talented. I think I have good taste (I may be the only one) and that should translate to production of good music, right? So I have written quite a paucity of songs over the years (most during my somber, flannel clad college years) and thought that I would be better off mixing two good songs written by other people for my own enjoyment. Thus my exploration into Mashups. I quickly found that I could in no way produce the quality of music mashed here amongst several simillar sites. People are even mashuping (is that the correct term? I am so old) videos. Oh, to have such time on my hands.

Finally, the last nugget (literally nuggets) in this extended post is the Carl's Jr. Cap'n Crunch Shake. All the wonderful flavor of Cap'n Crunch without the bleeding gums razor-bladiness of deliciosity by which they are usually accompanied. The shake was actually so-so, but when I got to the bottom and there were so many Cap'n Crunch chunks that I could'nt suck them up my straw...ahh, pure bliss.

I can recommend a couple of books as well...The Poisonwood Bible and Freakonomics, but that is a little too heady for this post. Perhaps later.