Free Press

I would like to announce the grand opening of GOLDMINE, my sister Nadia's virtual store and one of many post-grad school projects. Nadia– in her Bili Rubin debut, pictured left of me and Kirsten– currently offeres a selection of imported brooches, but there are other items offered by her business partners. The link is also listed to the right, for future reference.

Gastronomical

My 8 day holiday has come and gone, but the week's culinary memories aren't. Families were far away. In the American tradition though, it was still a great celebration of food. For me, it lasted the whole week. If I had my way, it would last my whole life.
I'm not sure why Barcelona is the current food capital of the world, because Catalan cuisine is filled with confused meat dishes, oily overcooked vegetables, salty fish, and insubstantial bread. But there is salvation in the produce and the butcher's specials from markets, in a small candlelit Italian restaurant in Saragossa, at the foodie shops in El Born, and in the regional wine and cheese.




Here are the bollitos of spinach, ricotta, raisins and pine nuts in butter sauce at La Contadina that I spent my whole morning walk to school today describing to Emily.


The big success of Thanksgiving, besides the turnout, was the beautifully brined turkeys. I had my doubts about the outcome of a dry salt brine, even with Cooks Illustrated and Sally behind it. For two days the turkeys sat, bundled up with salt in the refridgerator waiting to be cooked for 30 some people.


I was especially nervous while Chrissy and I bathed them and then watched them sit there on a pack of ice for the quinessential breast-cooling step. But it worked so well it brought back the merit of turkey as the table centerpiece. I relaxed when David started eating more turkey than he was carving.

What Is: Nursing School

Nursing school is an elusive experience. A year ago, I thought the disjointedness of the program was a byproduct of the larger-than-ever class sizes and the new distinction of being a College of Nursing, instead of a lowly "division" at NYU. Then the second and third semesters came and went, and I felt a little duped. I have learned to act like a nurse, to talk like a nurse, and to defend the nursing profession from the media stereotypes and the oppression of the medical community; but mostly, I have learned to put up with a lot of inadequate lectures about life-threatening conditions that I will be responsible for catching when I start practicing in less than 3 months. I feel like I don't know anything, but apparently that's not a problem.

There is a shortage of nurses in the United States. A big one. By the year 2020, it is projected that the shortage will grow to 1 million nurses. An estimated 120,000 nursing positions are currently vacant in hospitals alone (see AACN Nursing Shortage Fact Sheet). Despite my anxiety about finding a job, I know there will be one (or many) out there for me come January. If these weren't the conditions though, I would feel like a pretty poor candidate. We have supposedly completed over a thousand clinical hours in this program, but because of sneaky projects and papers that somehow count toward the tally, we probably only have a few hundred actual patient-contact hours under our belts. I am not ready to be responsible for 6 - 10 patients. Then again, I'm probably more ready than a lot other new graduates, but that's not much comfort.

Today in class, we filled out an exit survey rating our experience and the quality of our nursing education. I wish there had been a box to tell them that what I really got out of the program, and paid dearly for, is a ticket to enter the profession. While the state schools are creating lottery systems and complicated waitlists for qualified applicants to enter their understaffed nursing programs, NYU is doubling class sizes for those who are willing to pay the tuition. Sure, I still took my anatomy classes and jumped through the right hoops to get accepted, but unfortunately I have no sense of pride about the education I've received over the one I would have had to wait for had I stayed in Oregon. It just wasn't that good, and I feel a little guilty that my resume will hold more clout over one from a graduate of a public school based on NYU's reputation, and not my superior preparation I've recieved

Oh, school.

Coming Home to Roost

I'm snuggled up in bed watching a wonderful thing on television. Dick Armey has a gloomy look on his face. First of all, what a name for a big-faced, white-haired republican man. But more importantly, Dick Armey– sorry, I just can't stop saying his ironic name- just admitted, with a wobegone tone in his voice, that Bush is wrong about politics all being local. This election is about the war in Iraq, and that's why he's is so despondent tonight. It's not over yet, but I'm savoring the dead heat and the likely future democratic congress.

P.S. Although Dick Armey was born in North Dakota, about 30 miles from my Dad's farm, we have never drank the same water. Our farm has a well.

The Day After Halloween

I spent Halloween in Barcelona this year, which was of course not my reason for going but it wound up being a very nice benefit. Here I am pictured with benefit numero uno (y dos, tres...) on said holiday. Also pictured is the whip that I couldn't make work for me. It's hanging decoratively from my gold belt. I had already failed it and my servant boy by that point. The whip and rest of our costumes came directly from Egypt (see Jumping Over Egypt), which made me begin to believe my own costume and want to wear it all the time.

The whole night, from the extra spicey celebratory food to the entertainment provided by costumes, brought back Halloween's merit after years of blowing off the occasion with some extra candy and my normal black attire.

The holiday surprise came the day after Halloween though. Around noon, this scene began to unfold on the Olympic mountain, Montjuic, as moto by moto, these characters showed up half-costumed from the night before and ready to shoot a short IESE film. Amazingly, Noelle was able to direct it as her eyes probably stung from the fumes of alcohol wafting off her cast.



More Photos Here