My Thoughtful Spot

on the border, part II

Here is the continuation of Daniel's weekend at the American-Mexican border:

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Saturday night had a completely different "feel" to it than Friday. First, as dusk fell, strange traffic kept crisscrossing the "Ranchita" directly south of the Point -- both people on foot and two pickup trucks. Second, immediately after the sun set, "spotters" on the American side of the border began flashing lights south from positions both east and west of the Point. Lights flashed in answer from the Ranchita. Bobby and I took up our position on the Couch Trail as before, looking down to what we had called the "Tank Trap" -- the gap of fence into which steel "X's" had been welded. Bobby manned the night vision scope, while I was tasked with the radio. Since the moon had not yet risen, I literally could not see a thing. Suddenly Bobby called out, "There are four people setting up south of the Tank Trap. Three have identical backpacks and one, I think, has a rifle. I think they're going to cross." I immediately called this information in to Li'l Dog: "Li'l Dog, this is Boston. We have four individuals..." As I said this, Bobby said, "They're crossing, they're over the fence." I said into my radio, "they have crossed and are heading north between the Couch Trail and the 241." Li'l Dog replied, "Boston, that's a good copy, Mr. Green has been notified." Within 2 minutes a Border Patrol truck came screaming over the hill, searchlights blazing. The Agent trained his light almost exactly on the spot in the brush into which Bobby said the four illegals, likely drug smugglers given their identical backpacks, had jumped. Suddenly, the BP turned east and headed up the hill toward the 241. Perhaps he had gotten a more urgent call. Bobby kept the night vision scope trained on the general area to see if the group emerged from the brush. I called in to the Point that the BP had not apprehended the group and we believed they were still in the brush. About 10 minutes later two more BP trucks converged on the area and proceeded to do a methodical sweep on foot over the next 30 minutes. Knowing that Agents are not equipped with their own personal night vision, we maintained our position to try to see if the BP might "flush" the illegals out of their cover. Unfortunately, we did not see any of the group emerge.

About a half hour later, Li'l Dog radio'ed that another friend of his, a rancher further north from the Couch Trail who monitored the same frequency we were using, had called the Point from his cell phone and said he believed the group had entered his property. As Bobby and I listened, we could hear the sound of dogs barking coming at us from the north -- just as Li'l Dog said over the radio "... because his dogs are going crazy." This would have meant that the group of 4 slipped out of the area, perhaps between the time that the first BP truck arrived and the second two. In any case, Li'l Dog phoned the BP with this updated information, and they redirected to the ranch. We learned the next morning that BP successfully caught the group Bobby had sighted. Our first assist! What an exhilarating experience!

The night was still young, and more action was to come. A group of two younger Minutemen with the call sign "Porthole" had taken up a position further east, at the "Donut Hole," which is about as close to the 241 marker as one can get and still remain in their car. These two men radio'ed that they heard voices and rustling in the brush just below them, but on the American side of the border. Judging by the amount of noise, clattering and rustling, "Porthole" said they believed the group to be between 20 and 30 people. Apparently, they had crossed, but couldn't proceed further given Porthole's position and ours. Pinned down in the dark and cold, this group started to become aggressive, shouting insults in Spanish at two Minutemen. Suddenly, we heard this on the radio: "Patriot Point, this is Porthole. We're being rocked, repeat, they're throwing rocks at us." For legal reasons, this particular part of the story will end here, but suffice it to say that in a peaceful and safe manner the group was persuaded to stop throwing rocks. Most importantly, everyone was safe and no one was injured, either Minuteman or illegal immigrant.

As the evening "window" drew to a close, we returned to the Point as the Border Patrol "scope trucks" began to patrol the area. Flush from our collective success at assisting in the apprehension of 4 likely drug smugglers and the prevention of the group's crossing, we gathered around the kerosene heater to talk before bed. It was interesting to hear each person's reason for joining the Minutemen. Bobby, a native Virginian, had not thought much about illegal immigration until he moved to California around 2005. At that point, he saw first hand the strain that illegal immigrants place on our social services, and the creeping sense of entitlement brought with them. The two younger Minutemen who had been rocked explained that they had completed high school and were diligently seeking traditional, manual-labor jobs, but kept getting overlooked in favor of illegals, who commanded a lower wage. This story drove home to me that the unchecked flow of illegal immigration has devastated those old jobs which used to allow average Americans access to financial security and the pride of modest homeownership. In my father's day, a man could complete high school and obtain unglorious but quite steady employment as a porter, a gardener, a mover, a janitor, or handyman. These jobs put food on the table, allowed the purchase of a tract home, and perhaps allowed one to send their children to state college. Illegal immigration, along with many other factors, has evaporated these jobs for American citizens.

Another Minuteman, a rancher, has simply become tired of his animals being disturbed, his fences broken, and trash strewn on his property -- all by illegal immigrants. Still another Minuteman, an African-American with liver disease, told of consistently being denied government assistance, while watching illegal immigrants get essentially free care in our hospitals. While I don't necessarily agree fully with each of the positions that were expressed, and as I'm fond of saying, "the plural of anecdote is not data," at the same time, "where there is smoke, there is fire." If a variety of Americans from differing educational levels, races, and walks of life each feel the impact of illegal immigration, that says something. Our government, however, is not listening. Why should they? Illegal immigration is truly the cross-partisan "gift that keeps on giving." The political Left sees an influx of poor Hispanics, virtually every one of which (or at least their children) will vote Democrat -- a veritable voter machine. The political Right sees a source of cheap labor that will boost corporate profits -- making for happier days for Republicans at their local country club. While both liberals and conservatives conspire to do nothing, no one is watching out for the American people.

Saturday night was again spent in the "Fifth Wheel," and Bobby and I were back on the line by 5 a.m. Sunday morning. Nothing particularly eventful occurred except another game of cat and mouse with a smuggler on the Mexican side of the border by the rock "igloo."

Not forgetting my promise to L'il Dog, after the morning "window" for crossing closed, I suggested we scale the 241 and repair the torn-down flag. As the pole is 21 feet tall, and does not have a guy rope (or else the illegals would simply lower our flag rather than tearing it down), we had to do a little bit of a circus act to get the flag up there:

But after some amazing work by Porthole, she flies proudly again:

Immediately after hoisting the flag, what should come sailing over the hill from the Mexican side? Why, rocks of course. They missed us by a fair margin, so we were in no danger, but we raced over to the side of the hill to see who had been throwing them. We came upon two Mexican nationals in black who, as soon as they saw the size of our group, proceeded to haul ass back into Mexico. Interestingly, we also saw a black Cadillac Escalade driving south-east on the Tecate Federale highway. This was probably the truck that dropped these two individuals off. Clearly, given that it was an Escalade, these two men were either spotters who were attempting to cross into America in order to guide others across after night fell, or drug smugglers attempting to make a brazen daylight crossing. Clearly, they were not migrant laborers; but they were angry that our flag-raising activities had impeded their crossing. Here is a photo of the scrubland into which they retreated (they eventually hid behind the rock in the middle left of this picture, shouting insults at us):

Most of the group retired to the Point, but Porthole and I stayed behind at the 241 for an hour to make sure these gentlemen didn't return. As I sat quietly, I had an opportunity to see the real environmental toll that illegal immigration takes on our landscape. Here is a shot of the 241, littered with cans and bottles and bootie materials:

By now, it was time for Bobby and me to head back to Orange County. We said our goodbyes to Li'l Dog, Richard, Porthole and of course Freckles. Li'l Dog asked us to come back as soon as we could. We could tell that being there alone takes a huge toll on him. The smugglers have the same radios we do, and often taunt him: "Grandpa, we know you can't stay awake forever, go to sleep..." At best it can be comical, but at times, all alone on the Point, it must be positively unnerving. Li'l Dog has been shot at also, and a deep rusted gash on the hood of his truck shows where a smuggler, with amazing accuracy, shot a spotting scope and its tripod right off the car. Yet, day in and day out, he stays. He stays and does the job our government should be doing. He stays, and supports the Border Patrol as a "force multiplier." He stays, because in this crazy world, someone has to. Every day, he raises the flag on Patriot Point and scans the horizon, alone if necessary, grateful for any volunteers who may visit. He stays, because his presence may prevent one more backpack of drugs from addicting someone, may deter a criminal or child molester from making your hometown his own, may keep a terrorist from joining up with a cell somewhere... or may simply keep someone who doesn't have the legal right to be here, from being here. It's not about immigration. Immigration happens when someone goes to the U.S. embassy in their country and gets a visa, and that's not what happens at the 241. It's about the trampling of our law, the violation of our sovereignty, the rape of our Nation. And while we sleep, the Prisoner of Patriot Point maintains his solitary vigil on our behalf.

fridays feast

Feast One Hundred & Eighty One

Appetizer
Who was the last person you hugged?
Daniel, as I scurried out the front door this morning at 5:45.

Soup
Share a beauty or grooming trick with us.
To really make your lipstick stay on during dinner, try this: Apply lip liner, then powder your lips with your face powder. Apply a first coat of lipstick with a lip brush, powder again. Apply a second coat of lipstick with the brush, blot.

Salad
What does the color yellow make you think of?
The sun, happiness, and... here's the weird one... fat. Fat is yellow.

Main Course
If you were to make your living as a photographer, what subject would your pictures revolve around?
Two things immediatly spring to mind: baseball (including stadiums, the players, and the equipment) and carnivals/state fairs.

Dessert
What was the longest book you ever read?
Some Tolkein afficionados state that The Lord of the Rings is one book, broken up into three for ease of publishing. I don't disagree, but I didn't read them in that way, if that makes sense. So that means the longest book I ever read was The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky.

on the border

Over President's Day weekend, Daniel went to the Mexican-American border. He saw and did some pretty amazing things, and I thought it would make for a perfect post. Below, you'll find the story of his adventure...

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For quite some time, I have wanted to volunteer with the Minuteman Project -- the civilian group that watches sections of our southern border and reports sightings of illegal immigrants to the U.S. Border Patrol. I have wanted to do this not out of hostility to immigrants, because I believe orderly, legal immigration is the lifeblood of our Nation. Nor have I wanted to do this out of ethnic prejudice, because I am of mixed ethnic extraction, some of which has not always historically been considered "white." I have wanted to do so out of a concern for the rule of law and for national security. I have also wanted to do so out of solidarity with the Minuteman Project, which, despite having never mistreated an illegal immigrant (and having provided emergency medical attention to many) has been vilified and slandered in the press as a gang of "vigilantes," when they are no such thing.

Through a family friend, I had the opportunity to volunteer with a group of Minutemen operating out of Campo, California. A retired U.S. Army captain, whose radio call sign is "Li'l Dog," has been manning a stretch of border 55 miles east of San Diego on a continuous basis since April 2006. Concerned about the large stretches of border that are essentially unmanned, Li'l Dog volunteered early with a chapter of Minutemen. As the movement splintered into various schismatic groups, he continued to watch the area, building a close relationship of mutual respect with the Border Patrol. Based on an outcropping of rock close to Mile Marker 240 he dubbed "Patriot Point," Li'l Dog hand dug and installed a flagpole which proudly flies the American flag, as well as two donated mobile homes, an old military truck labeled the "Deuce and a Half," a combination of solar and generator power, and the most diligent and loyal dog known to man, Freckles. While other Minutemen come and go as their schedule allows, Li'l Dog remains on site 24/7, often alone for long stretches at a time, scanning the border with binoculars and spotting scopes, and reporting what he sees via cell phone or FRS radio to the Border Patrol. He refuses to leave as long as the border is not secure; in his words, he is the "Prisoner of Patriot Point."

I and another volunteer, Bobby, arrived at Patriot Point on Friday at 1230, after a three hour drive from Orange County. We met Li'l Dog and our family friend, Vince. Here is a view of Patriot Point:

Here is a view of the "facilities," at 3000 feet no less:

And here is Freckles, smartest junkyard mutt you'll ever meet:

Apart from the dedication of Li'l Dog, what impressed me immediately about his operation was the close and favorable relationship he had with the Border Patrol. The local office new him by name, and at least once each day a Patrol Agent would come to visit Patriot Point, bringing a newspaper and intelligence about border crossing traffic. Impressively, the Agents would ask L'il Dog about his planned operations for that night, if he had volunteers on hand, and would coordinate Border Patrol placement so as not to duplicate efforts. On Friday, Li'l Dog explained to the visiting agent that our group would fan out in twos along the border between Patriot Point and Marker 241. I was astonished to hear that the BP, in response, would focus its efforts west of the 241. This indicated two things to me: first, Li'l Dog's efforts have a real impact respected by the BP; and second, our Border Patrol is so understaffed that they are happy to utilize the services of volunteers. Think about that for a second. With a federal budget of over $3 trillion in 2009, our Border Patrol does not have enough manpower to patrol all sections of the border on its own. This is inexcusable. It is that way for one and only one reason: because the government and corporate interests actually want it that way.

Li'l Dog explained that most border crossing occur from 4 to 7 p.m., and from 4 to 9 a.m. He suggested we take the time to walk the border ourselves for a bit and view the supposedly secure "Virtual Fence" our government promised to build. I changed into comfortable hiking books and thick socks, cargo pants, a layered top of T-shirt, insulated long sleeve shirt, and wool jacket, sunglasses, and Patriots hat. The wind at 3000 feet is quite fierce, and I learned to appreciate the layers. Strictly for defense and potential "rattlesnake abatement," I also carried my Beretta PX4 chambered in .40 S&W.

Bobby and I proceeded to walk along the border to "the 241." What we saw defies description. Sections of 50 year old, rusting fence, with enormous gaps, and well worn concave depressions underneath it -- worn that way from hundreds of bodies slipping underneath. This, ladies and gentlemen, is our southern border:

Look at that gap! Not a single BP agent, checkpoint, or even camera in sight. Literally anyone could walk through -- from drug dealer, to criminal, to terrorist. A few hundred feet west, toward the 241, is a section of missing fence. Has the government repaired it? No. What they've done is weld some steel "X's," the kind you see used to stop tanks in old war movies, into the gap. Will it stop a tank? Maybe. A person can just walk around, over or under it.

The illegal immigrants use felt "booties" when crossing, both to mask their tracks and muffle the sound of shoes on rocks. Here is one of the booties laying in our path as we walked to the 241:

Here is a concave space under the fence, where heaven knows how many drug smugglers and illegal immigrants have slipped through:

Here are multiple gaps in the fence by power tower 131, also known as the Couch Trail. Why? Because there's actually the remnants of a couch there, where pregnant illegal immigrants would rest. While no one can blame people searching for a better life, immigration simply must be handled in a more legally orderly fashion than via a Fourteenth Amendment "anchor baby":

And if that weren't bad enough, here, the fence just STOPS. No reason. It just stops. X marks the spot for entry, I suppose?

By now you can see the light of near-sunset, and Bobby and I finally reached the 241. This mile marker has had eight American flags torn from it, probably by drug smugglers or human smugglers ("coyotes"). This alone should tell you something about some of the people who cross our southern border. Li'l Dog has made it a point to hoist a flag as soon as one is torn down, but as one man, he can't scale the 21 foot flagpole by himself. I radio back to Patriot Point that we've arrived and promise to help replace the flag by the end of my stay. Watching the sun set, I quietly chant the Phos Hilaron, the Greek Orthodox hymn for evening time.

Looking down into Mexico from the 241, I catch a strange sight. A large, well tended Ranch is directly south of the 241. There is a main house, stable, and several expensive cars. But there are also a number of smaller, windowless buildings, or buildings with few windows. Various cars stop on the main road; people get out, and go into these buildings, but they don't come out. Li'l Dog explains that at best, these are safe houses, where illegal immigrants stock up on water and canned tuna before making the crossing. At worst, and more likely given the affluence of the "Ranchita," these are places where people willingly or unwillingly become drug mules -- loading up on satchels of marijuana or cocaine -- either because it's their business to do so or because some coyote has said, "I'll guide you across, but only if you carry this."

We head back to Patriot Point before the sun fully sets at 1730, to get ready for the "evening rush." After dark, cameras become useless, and only night vision goggles work until the moon rises, and binoculars can then be used with some difficulty. Bobby and I take up a position on the Couch Trail, halfway between the Point and the 241. Bobby mans the night vision scope, and I man the FRS radio. My accent and Patriots hat lead me to quickly be dubbed "Boston," and that becomes my call sign. Another Minuteman takes up a post at the "Donut Hole," a space between some brush nearer the 241.

Li'l Dog explains that the Border Patrol has told him his greatest value, apart from maintaining a presence, is to deter would be crossers from crossing -- to, in other words, "keep them legal" by keeping them on the Mexican side. Why? Because every crosser who is apprehended must be taken by the Patrol Agent to headquarters and booked. While the Agent is "away from the line," six more crossers come over. Therefore, Li'l Dog said it is perfectly acceptable to periodically turn on our headlights, make noise, and generally be visible. Deterred crossing is always preferable to apprehensions. Li'l Dog takes deterrence to a nonviolent extreme, using a bullhorn to periodically proclaim, in serviceable Spanish, "Do not cross into the United States, this border is secure."

Friday night is almost painfully uneventful. By 2300, Bobby and I have not seen a single attempted crossing. Li'l Dog and Vince reported seeing some "spotters," individuals on the American side who flash lights to incoming illegals to let them know the way is open, but no actual crossers. Knowing that the BP infrared scope trucks come out at 2300 to patrol more heavily, we retire back to the Point. A few hours of sleep is caught in the "Fifth Wheel," the second mobile home, which is surprisingly comfortable.

By 0400, we are back on the line. As sun rises, we make our first sightings. On a hill on the Mexican side, smugglers have made a sort of "igloo" of smaller rocks, behind which they can hide themselves and larger groups of immigrants. Several times, a smuggler dressed entirely in black pokes his head up from the rock, sees me, and darts down again. For several hours, he and I play cat and mouse, while the sun heats up the rusted fence. As its expansion sends out weird banging noises, the BP radios Li'l Dog to inform him that the smuggler I'm watching has a group behind him. I stand firm, watching the same section of fence. He never crosses. Perhaps he got tired and "TBS'ed" ("turned back south"), or moved to cross west of the 241, where the BP concentrated its presence.

During the day on Saturday, a friend of Li'l Dog's who owns a ranch nearby took us on what he calls the "Tecate Cruise" -- a 14 mile guided tour of the border between Campo and Tecate. The "fence," such as it is, is more of the same. This particular stretch is part of the supposed "New Fence" promised by Secretary of Homeland Security Chertoff:

If I weren't so busy laughing, I'd cry. Just keep telling yourself "we don't need a fence, fences don't work." Right. That's why they have fences around military installations, construction sites, and you have one around your house.

Here is the fence between the U.S. and Tecate (yes, the same Tecate where the beer is from). See how it is meticulously patched where there are holes? That, at least, is a good thing -- one would think:

But, here, just a dozen feet away, is this:

So surreal it's almost Kafkaesque, don't you think? And of course, right by that opening, we found tons of booties, water and beer bottles, and empty food cans. Our border truly is analogous to locking your front door and leaving all your windows open.

As Saturday wore on, we headed back to the Point so we could take up our positions before the 4 p.m. "window." When we arrived, Li'l Dog was on the phone with BP. He relayed that according to Border Patrol, our heavy presence along the border on Friday night had caused a "backup" of "product" -- meaning that the drug smugglers couldn't get their goods across, and there would be pressure to move more drugs and bodies across the border tonight. According to Li'l Dog, something like 40% of the marijuana and ingredients for methamphetamines come across the Campo border. Since the federal government started controlling pseudephedrine, more and more smugglers were simply bringing across backpacks of the stuff, since it is still legal and uncontrolled in Mexico. More than that, most smugglers take drugs on consignment, and face stiff penalties from their masters if they fail to move the stuff across. Basically, what BP was telling us was "hold on and strap in, it's going to be a bumpy night."

And a bumpy night it was. Our first night vision sighting, spotting and assisting in the apprehension of four drug smugglers, a group of 30 illegal immigrants sighted and reported, one of our positions assaulted by rocks, and more. But it's late, and that story will have to wait for tomorrow.

wedding pictures

A few weeks ago, one of the patients we operated on came in wearing a long fur coat. We were in one of the procedure rooms, not the OR, so she brought her coat down with her because she said it was cold in the hospital. A long fur coat is a rarity, especially in Southern California, even if it is February. So we started talking about it.

"Oh my God, I can't believe she has a fur coat."

"Do you think it's real?"

"Of course it's real, she's a doctor's wife."

"What kind of animal do you think it is?"

I chime in that I thought it was fox fur, because it looked sort of like the fur that I had worn when we got married.

"You wore fur when you got married?!?"

"Where was that?"

"I wanna see some pictures!"

This morning I finally remembered to dig out the proofs of our wedding photos. We worked and saved up for two years to pay for our wedding, and we splurged on a few select items. Like the fur muff and band around my head. One of the things we didn't splurge on was a big wedding album. It would have been $1,000 or more and we just didn't have it.

In the nine years we've been married, we have had a few thousand dollars that we could have allocated to getting a wedding album. But who wants to buy a bunch of pictures instead of going on vacation or having a couple of fabulous meals? Not us. So all we have are the proofs.

Anyway, I digress. I brought the photos in and showed them to the nurses who orginally asked. They just loved the photos and really thought our style ideas were so neat. I stopped off to see some patients on the way back to the call room, but I hadn't yet dropped off the little gold box that had my pictures in them. Little gold boxes usually have chocolate in them, and residents are often hungry, so as I wandered from unit to unit, several people asked me what was in the box. I was a little hesitant to show them; I was trying to be inconspicuous! But now I'm glad I shared them. They all thought they were really cool, too. There is a beautiful shot of the church's altar from the choir loft and everyone was just amazed. I'm sad to say that the church doesn't exist anymore. In the wake of the church sex scandal, several churches in Boston had to be sold. Ours was, and it was turned into condos.

I haven't thought about our wedding in a long, long time. I haven't seen those pictures in years. I'm so glad I brought them in.

valentine's day '08

So I'm finally getting around to posting about our Valentine's Day for this year. Let me start off by saying that we almost never celebrate it on the actual day. This is for several reasons: A) It's too crowded. 2) It's overpriced and you've got some cheesy waiter asking you if you want sparkling water and you look like a cheapskate if you say "tap." And D), they have set menus. We like to have options.

We moved our dinner to one week later and went to our favorite, all-purpose, special occasion restaurant -- The Napa Rose in Disneyland's Grand Californian Hotel. Before you roll your eyes, they have won dozens upon dozens of awards for both cuisine and their wine cellar. It's also a place to do a little star gazing... I've seen Nicholas Cage there and on our most recent trip, there was some guy from the show 24 there. I don't watch the show, so I don't know who it is, but I recognized him from the commercials.

Onto the menu, which is always spectacular. They have something called "The Vintner's Table" which is a four course meal that changes every Friday. We usually just get that and have never been disappointed. Plus they have a flight of four wines to match. That is, of course, obligatory.

First Course
Sake Glazed Wild Red King Salmon with Tangerine-Ginger Essence and Shiso Leaf-Macadamia Nut Pesto. Wine pairing: Turnbull, Sauvignon Blanc, Napa Valley 2005

Second Course
Bacon Wrapped Sonoma Quail stuffed with Roasted Portobello Mushrooms and a Sunset Chile-Rose Petal Mole. Wine pairing: Andrew Murray, Syrah, "Tous Les Jours", Santa Barbara County 2005

Third Course
Pan Roasted Filet Mignon topped with Melted Brie with a Dried Cherry, Roasted Walnut and Port Sauce
Wine pairing: Franus, Cabernet Sauvignon, Napa Valley 2000

Fourth Course
Classic Scharffen Berger Chocolate Velvet Pate Candied Hazelnut Creme Anglaise
Wine pairing: Banfi, Rosa Regale, Brachetto di Acqui DOCG, Piemonte, Italy 2005

The Syrah was so neat... smelled like a Syrah. First taste was more like a robust Merlot but had a very Syrah finish. I really liked it. Then our waitress Wendy (we always ask for Wendy because she rocks) poured Daniel something different to go with the filet. I'm not sure what it was except that it was French, but that was one of the best wines I've ever tasted. Which leaves me conflicted. I try to not like anything from France. But Daniel assures me that their new prime minister is pro-American so our household French ban can be lifted. I remain somewhat doubtful... ;-)

happy package

My Stampin' Up! order is arriving today via UPS!

*bouncey*bouncey*bouncey*

True, I won't get to actually use it for a while, but at least it will be in my posession!!! Hooray!

An aside: Why in the world would anyone pick poop-colored brown to be their color? I know everyone knows UPS for being the brown truck, the guys in brown, etc. But to me, they look like guys in poop colored uniforms carrying happy packages.

questions, questions

Swiped this from Dawn; because I feel like typing but don't have that much to say.

1. What team would you like to have season tickets for? Where would you want to sit?
Well, the Red Sox, of course! I'm not that familiar with Fenway Park, but knowing me, I would want to sit in the part that is the most exclusive and difficult to get into. Wherever that is will have the great seats, I'm sure.

2. What was the best day of the past week for you and why?
It was Thursday, because we had moved our Valentine's Day dinner to then. We had an amazing dinner at one of our favorite restaurants. Oops! I sense another post coming on!

3. What is the best thing about the city in which you currently live?
It's close to everything! Disneyland, the beach, Angels baseball, tons of venues for huge concerts, mountains. Plus, it has the most perfect weather of any place I've ever lived.

4. What do you love most about yourself?
That I can have fun in almost any situation.

5. What celebrity crushes did you have when you were growing up?
Michael J. Fox. He was everywhere... on tv in Family Ties and in the movies. Back to the Future (I, II, and III), Teen Wolf...

6. What's the weather like where you are today?
It rained overnight, which is pretty unusual. It's been gray all morning and drizzly, but it's dry now and the sun is trying to poke through the clouds. It's currently 56 degrees.

7. So, tell us, what three things do you think of when I say elephant?
The Nursery Necessities stamp set from Stampin' Up! that is arriving tomorrow, the zoo, and the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland.

8. What is your favorite breakfast cereal? Is it the same from when you were a kid? Did you then, and do you now, read the cereal box while you eat your cereal? And one last question... do you drink the milk from your cereal bowl?
My current favorite cereal is Kashi Go Lean! Crunch. Keeps me full and energized. Unfortunately, I don't get a chance to eat it very often. Cereal poured over milk isn't portable enough for me. I can't eat it before I leave for work in the morning, because that would mean I eat breakfast at 5:30 or earlier and then there is no way I could make it to my mid-morning snack at 10, let alone lunch. So I have to eat a bar like Clif around 7 or 7:30. My favorite cereal from when I was a kid was Cocoa Puffs, which is my favorite junk cereal of choice currently. When I was little, I always read the back of the box while eating. If I'm at home eating breakfast, I'll just watch tv. And, no, I don't drink the milk. ew.

9. What are your three most favorite articles of clothing?
1. A very flowy skirt with small orange and brown flowers on it.
2. A scoop neck, sleeveless t-shirt with a bit of gathering around the neck. It's very feminine.
3. Cargo pants, tan. Totally comfy and flattering.

10. When was the last time you checked out a book from the library? What book was it?
Oh, gosh... it's been years. I think it was about three or four years ago. It was some medical book; I think it had to do with colorectal disease. I haven't checked out a "fun" book for as long as I can remember.

11. 5 things you often put off until the last minute.
Putting my clothes away, recording my work hours, charging my phone and iPod, getting ready to go somewhere... and I can't think of a 5th one!

12. What do you do to kill time?
I usually leaf through my Stampin' Up! catalog looking at the ideas in there. Or their monthly publication for demonstrators. Or one of my exercise magazines.

13. What is one item that you own that has minimal monetary value, but that has such sentimental value that you wouldn't sell it for any amount of money?
When Daniel and I first got together, we were so poor we usually ate Hamburger Helper most nights with the cheapest grade ground beef. We cooked it in an electric skillet we got from his Grammy that, if you weren't careful, would shock you when you moved the cord. But we didn't have a spatula or anything. So at the grocery store, we bought the cheapest plastic spatula they had for a few dollars. We have held onto that spatula throughout the years, despite having it's handle nearly burned off and later ground up in the garbage disposal. Sure, we have other spatulas now, but I would never throw that little guy away.

14. What are three things you are putting off doing until later?
Filling out tax forms for my (likely) new job, going to the gym (not much later; just until lunch settles), and weighing myself (haven't been able to work out for weeks and am afraid to see what the scale says).

15. You have been accused of something you did not do, but no one believes you. What will you do?
I will gather all the evidence that points to my innocence and hope that my track record of honesty will convince people to believe me.

16. So, tell us, how do you like your peanut butter?
I like it any way! Most recently, I had it on top of a whole grain waffle with honey. Never had it before, but it was damn good, lemme tell you.

17. What is your favorite snack?
I like a good handful of grapes, if I'm craving something sweet. If I want something crunch, I like cucumber slices with hummus. Of course, these are my healthy answers. ;-)

18. What three things do you think of when I say lemon?
Lemon tree, lemon bars, and lemonade.

19. What is the oldest coin in your wallet?
My wallet doesn't have room for coins. It only has room for 4 cards and some folded up bills. Super slim!

20. Never in my life have I...
... successfully carried on a conversation in another language. I've written in Spanish at more than a grade school level, but the speaking part never really developed. After I pass the boards, I plan to learn, and become fluent in German.

friday's feast

Feast One Hundred & Eighty

Appetizer
Have you ever played a practical joke on anyone? If so, what did you do and who was your victim?
I am a terrible liar. No poker face whatsoever. And yet, every April Fool's and I try to trick someone. It's usually Daniel, but he always knows. Last year, I tried to be clever about things and tell him I crashed the car when he was in the shower, so it was steamy and his glasses were off. But he heard the smile in my voice and simply said, "Nichole, just stop. I'm onto you."

Soup
What do your salt and pepper shakers look like?
We don't have salt and pepper shakers for our daily dishes because we just don't use it. But when we set the table for a holiday, we have salt and pepper shakers to match the theme. Easter = easter egg shaped ones. Thanksgiving = turkey shaped ones? Christmas = they look like ornaments.

Salad
Where is the next place you plan to visit?
I don't have any definitive plans at the moment. But I have a weekend off coming up in March. If it doesn't fall on Easter weekend (which I'll have to double check), then we may go visit my mom and sister. Haven't seen them since the first week of December.

Main Course
What kind of lotion or cream do you use to keep your hands from getting too dry?
I have all kinds of lotions strategically placed so that I can use it whenever I have a chance. I have a little bottle of Enchanted Orchid from Bath & Body Works in the pocket of my white coat. My bag has Magnolia Blossom. At home I have Velvet Tuberose. If they are really dry, I have Hand Relief from Aveda, which is my absolute favorite, but it's pretty pricy, so I save it for "emergencies."

Dessert
Make up a dessert, tell us the ingredients, and give us a name.
Oh, man. I'm always bad at these. If I were good, I'd be a chef! So I'll just list one of my favorite desserts... a mini chocolate lava cake. mmmmm....

what do you wear to...

Instead of our weekly M&M (Morbidity & Mortality) conference, we had "mock orals." Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. It's a fake oral examination that is supposed to mimic the last portion of the two part exam to become a board certified surgeon. An exam that I will be (hopefully) taking next January. There is a whole industry to passing this exam with prep courses and such, so I have a lot of work to do between now and then.

As I was getting ready for work this morning at 5am, I was trying to decide on what to wear. Not usually an issue for me; conservative job = conservative clothes. I try to be a little fashion forward (i.e., trouser shorts), but still very covered. But tonight is our moved Valentine's Day dinner. I don't want to look all matronly across the table. But I can't go to work with a deep v-neck, either. Especially if I have to lean over an listen to someone's heart, you know what I mean?

So I picked an embroidered burgundy wool skirt with a little bit of beading and a coordinating 3/4 sleeve mock-neck sweater. Shows off the curves yet compltely appropriate under a white coat. Good for exams, good for dinner.

Now onto shoes. My toes are in bad need of a pedicure, so my peep toe chocolate suede "pin-up girl" shoes are out of the question. The rest of my closed-toed options are too springy or just not right. So I chose a new pair I got at a super-huge discount at Banana Republic last month. Brown, 4 inch chunky heel, rounded toe. I knoew 4 inches sounds crazy for a 12 hour day, but I do it quite regularly. However, due to circumstances that were beyond my control, I ended up walking a ton this morning. I think I may end up regretting my decision by the time dinner rolls around.

Ow.

grrr...

Stinky feet smell.

In my call room.

I want my air freshener back.

Terds.