There is a rhyme that is hung over the sink at work. It's quite poetic and has been stuck in my head all week. It goes like this:
I wish I were a glow worm
A glow worm's never glum
'Cause how can you be grumpy
When the sun shines out your bum
I wonder which mad doctor or nurse put it there...
You can't always believe what you hear.
I've heard from numerous sources that Edmonton is a boring, quiet, little city in Northern Alberta with nothing much to do and nothing much going on.
My response?
Far from the truth.
I'm starting to learn about Edmonton and everything I learn brings me farther and farther away from that truth. First of all, no one in Montreal, the supposedly "sinful city", has ever asked me to smoke weed with them. Well no, there was that one time on St. Catherine's Street East...but that's a bad neighborhood. And the guy offered to sell me weed, not share a joint with me. This occurrence, in Edmonton, happened in a quiet suburb close to the University of Alberta.
I had to get that out of the way first.
Now, on to other things. Besides having drunkards in the suburbs yelling at 2 am. and this being supposedly the "Murder Capital of Canada" and there having just been a fire involving a whole new suburban development and guys throwing burning sofa cushions into hallways of apartment buildings...it's a fairly nice little city.
West Edmonton Mall is a whole mecca of things unimaginable. Everything one needs is in that mall. Lodging, food, entertainment, shopping...oh the shopping. The sales have persuaded me to buy a large number of quite useful articles like shoes and shirts and more shirts and some shoes...and a bag...I've seen the sea lion show and the flamingos preening and had a lovely White Peach Bellini at Moxie's. I even hear there's a penguin on the premises although that may be just a rumor.
The tastes of Edmonton festival is still going on where almost forty restaurants from all over Edmonton set up tents in a downtown square and sell small samples of food. The point I guess is to be able to sample food from all these different restaurants without having to actually visit the places for dinner. My #1 favorite dish would have been the Stuffed Mushrooms with 3 Cheeses and Tarragon Sauce from The Gas Pump. #2: Butternut Squash and Maple Soup from Mayfield Inn and Suites. It was buttery and creamy and wonderful. There were other things. Scones with whipped cream and berry sauce with strawberries, lobster and shrimp rotini, frozen chocolate dipped banana, cheese empanadas, jambalayas, tandoori chicken, bacon wrapped scallops, the list goes on and on.
I could talk about the Capital Ex festival and Whyte Ave. and the Muttart Conservatory but for now, this is enough blogging.
Change of travel plans:
Greyhound from Edmonton on August 18th to Calgary.
Catch flight out of Calgary International Airport on 20th to La Guardia International Airport, New York City.
Flight from Newark Liberty Airport, New Jersey on August 26th to San Diego International Airport via stopover in Charlotte, North Carolina.
Flight from San Diego International Airport on September 2nd to Pierre Elliot Trudeau International Airport, Montreal via stopover in Washington DC.
I can't wait to catch some beach time during my week in California.
Sometimes, it's hard to tell what people are thinking.
Such is the case on Unit 41 where I work periodically where people have sustained TBIs (Traumatic Brain Injuries). Because the brain is the main control center for the rest of the body, differential damage to the brain will have varied effects. Some people lose their ability to coordinate movements, some to recognize colors and shapes, some to understand speech. My scariest (and most interesting I guess) patients are those who have sustained damage to the frontal lobe of the brain. The frontal lobe is the area that houses your "personality" if you will. Those who have compromised frontal lobes can still function perfectly fine in a very practical sense but will be overly aggressive, or disinhibited, or will burst into tears at the slightest emotion, or be completely blank. They may crack inappropriate jokes or be completely rude when they were the sweetest, most reserved people before the accident.
Mrs. S scared me today. I was walking down the empty hallway when she popped out of the door of her room and tried to grab my arm. It was the look on her face, and maybe that glint in her eye, that made me quite uneasy so I pulled away and started walking toward the nursing station, hoping that someone would be around. She followed me and as I sped up, so did she until I was speed-walking and she was jogging after me down this eerie empty hall. I was afraid she was going to run faster and hit me and I heard her grunting noises behind me and to the left (because she didn't talk) as she came after me. Needless to say, I was gasping with relief when our security guard appeared and came around to grab her.
And now, even when I'm downtown, I jump every time someone comes too close to me.
I really need to ask for a panic button.
I saw something completely ridiculous today.
A man, sitting outside the hospital doors with nose prongs on (that's the little clear oxygen tube you see on TV all the time) and hooked up to an oxygen tank...smoking. I could not believe my eyes. First of all, the fact that he needs oxygen means he can't breathe. Secondly, oxygen is flammable. I spent the rest of the afternoon ventilating.
For all you Grey's Anatomy fans, I'm working at a prettier hospital than Seattle Grace.
The Royal Alexandra Hospital. A teaching hospital with 678 beds and the region's largest medical and surgical health facility, performing over 28 000 surgical procedures anually and employing over 4 800 staff.
Houses an indoor garden with sunroof right beside the nursing wards so that patients' rooms (to the right) overlook greenery and the beautiful architecture.
From the 2nd floor looking down the center space to the lobby area and food court in the basement. I was tempted to drop something from the 6th floor just to see it splatter...kidding.
Walking down the surgical wing, all the stretchers neatly lined up on the side with the indoor garden to the right. First door on the left is the on-call room. Comfy couches, big screen plasma TV, fridge...
Eat that Meredith Grey.
Nostalgia.
It's like drinking this sweet and bitter potion that both tingles and burns all the way down. It's like putting three paper boats into the Bow River and watching the swells and the current carry them downstream until they disappear from sight, wondering what will happen to them and where they'll end up.
We had a Burning Bush grads of 2001 reunion the other day (meaning old friends I hadn't seen for 4 or 6 years) and it was...surprising. Oftentimes these reunion things are at the very best awkward shadows of past friendships but this one was intimate and funny and interesting and fruitful. The hours flew by and suddenly it was 2 in the morning before we all started from this eerie reverie we'd all fallen into. It seemed like everyone had grown up a little but...but at the same time it seemed like absolutely no time had passed by. It was like we were 14 years old again - Helina was laughing at Kim and Jon trading biting comments while Dan made the occaisional dry remark, taking pictures of our feet and hands and Kim's citronella candles and making weird faces and spraying bug spray on each other and...in the candles...and generally acting no different than we had with each other many years ago. Talking about the crazy random and dangerous things we'd done as preteens and reminiscing about the events we'd planned and the emails we'd traded. Spreading brie on bread with our fingers and kicking each other under the table. We'd all backslided into the past and came out with something different.
Why is it so hard to escape from the past? Is it because we romanticize everything and picture it as more perfect than it really was? Or does life really start beautifully and go downhill from there?
Jon said that nostalgia had a purpose. If so, what is it?
