tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-240995892024-03-12T18:49:23.046-04:00Daddy, I don't feel well. . .Sanity, insanity and the space between. . .Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-7129358552610693102011-12-02T15:07:00.001-05:002011-12-02T15:15:50.111-05:00It's official, I don't know anythingLook, I try to be pretty honest with myself. <br />
<br />
I like to think that, sure, I'm not cool. But I'm not actively uncool. Right? And while I don't know what it is like to be a tweenager, I have some idea, some point of reference.<br />
<br />
But this morning I was reminded that I just don't know anything.<br />
<br />
Our oldest gets up early so she has time to practice her clarinet before leaving for school. The plan is, up at 5:45, practice for 15 minutes (four times a week, to get the required 60 in), then come upstairs and get ready for school.<br />
<br />
So this morning, she comes stumbling out of her room at about 5:51. Heads downstairs. I hear the clarinet doing some scales at about 5:57. At 6:03 she is upstairs. So I casually throw out a simple question.<br />
<br />
"How long did you practice?"<br />
<br />
"Fifteen minutes."<br />
<br />
"But you weren't downstairs for 15 minutes."<br />
<br />
"It was 15 minutes, I have a timer!"<br />
<br />
"Um, you haven't even been out of your room for 15 minutes. It is therefore impossible to have practiced for 15 minutes. I have been awake the entire time and know exactly how long you have been up. It isn't possible for you to have practiced for 15 minutes."<br />
<br />
Scowl.<br />
<br />
But no admission that I may have, just on the off chance, been right. Gosh I love being a moron.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-34743202011131091652011-07-18T15:40:00.000-04:002011-07-18T15:40:56.531-04:00So close, and yet so farThis won't be the first time I have mentioned how crazy residency can be. And it certainly isn't meant as a complaint about the residency process. As it is, it isn't to terribly bad, and there is a good chance it is just going to get worse in the coming years, all in an effort to make it "better". But that is an entirely different blog article.<br />
<br />
One aspect of residency that can really be painful is the vacation aspect. We get 15 days of vacation a year. I mean, I'm glad I get any days at all, seriously. However, when you only have three weeks, and your family lives 2000+ miles away, it is amazing how fast those days are gobbled up just trying to be part of the family.<br />
<br />
Take last year, for instance. We had one trip back to Utah planned in October to run the Layton Marathon with my father. That was an awesome trip. However, between two other trips for weddings, *poof* there went my three weeks.<br />
<br />
This often translates into not doing much around here where we are. In fact, in the past, we have only really had one family vacation where we went and did something up here in New England, and that was back in the summer of 2008 (and one other brief trip to Maine for our anniversary a couple of years ago, but that was just Lis and I). So that means that, despite only being 6 1/2 hours away from Palmyra, we have never been to the Hill Cumorah Pageant.<br />
<br />
Don't they revoke your temple recommend for that?<br />
<br />
We knew this was our last summer here in New England. We determined we simply had to go to New York before we left. So finally this past week we made it. We went to Palmyra, then over to Niagara Falls and home by way of Lake Champlain and Burlington.<br />
<br />
All in all it was a great trip, and something I am very glad we were able to do. It is just sad that some of these things can be so close geographically, yet so far away due to time constraints. More articles will be forthcoming about the trip.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-60445724167274596102011-05-11T16:11:00.000-04:002011-05-13T16:22:16.037-04:00I'm that kid. . .Disclaimer: This is not a pity post. I'm not asking for, nor looking for your pity. In fact, I don't want it. I don't need it. Please take it elsewhere. This is simply an observation, some thoughts, and acceptance on my part.<br />
<br />
I started running for real on Thanksgiving Day, 2009. I had done some running before that. My father used to get me up at 5 in the morning when I was in Junior High to go jogging with him. I did some running in medical school. But then I sort of stopped. Something changed that November morning and I went and ran about 5 miles, a new record distance for me.<br />
<br />
Since that time I have continued to run, though with varying degrees of success at different times. Last year was great up until the marathon in October. Then I sort of slipped, was really tired (ya know, residency will do that to you) and didn't do great. But we signed up for a half-marathon and I had some motivation again. It was great to remember again just how good it feels to go out and move across the earth.<br />
<br />
Our half-marathon was this past Saturday. My wife and her friend did really great. They were faster than me by far (no surprise), and even faster than they thought they would be. I was super excited she did so well. But I honestly had some difficulty with her congratulating me and being proud for me as well. I mean, she ran it well and fast. I just ran it. Then the metaphor hit me. I realized what kind of runner I am.<br />
<br />
I'm sure we all know that one kid on the sports team. Pick your sport, it doesn't really matter. Let's go with basketball for sake of this blog, since I like basketball the most. But there is always that one kid on the team. He enjoys playing, but is just not good. He scores occasionally, but will never make the winning basket. He has a few assists, but more often than not either gets picked off or just throws it away when trying to pass. And he dribbles off his own foot as often as he does the floor.<br />
<br />
His mommy and daddy are proud of him because he is "there". He's playing his hardest, despite the fact that, frankly, he sucks. In fact, the team would be better off if he wasn't there, but no one has the heart to tell him that. He just doesn't realize how bad he is, and that he is never going to be good at basketball. Everyone just cheers because they are decent people and sort of feel sorry for him. Fortunately for him, he just hears the cheers, and doesn't care.<br />
<br />
I'm that kid. <br />
<br />
I'll go out and run. I'll do okay, but I will never win a race, never win my age division, and will just constantly "finish" whatever race I enter. And as I cross that finish line, there will be people cheering for me. The only problem is, unlike that kid on the basketball court, blissfully ignorant, I know I'm that kid. I know that, without mincing words, I kind of suck.<br />
<br />
But I have accepted that. So I will just continue to run, even though I kind of suck at it.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-47438430936705878202011-04-13T16:46:00.000-04:002011-04-13T16:46:10.472-04:00Would you like fries with that?I love my job. Really. I promise I do. <br />
<br />
Some days, though, I just don't feel up to it. Today is one of those days. I'm not sure why I feel that way. It could just be pre-call weekend depression setting in (it's a real thing, I swear!), maybe it is because I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by having to deal with our new EMR this weekend, having been gone since the "go live" date. Maybe it is just because I don't feel that I performed as well as I would have liked in the OR today.<br />
<br />
Whatever it is, there are some days when I just really wish the toughest thing I had to deal with at work was asking the tough question, "Would you like fries with that?"<br />
<br />
Oh that it were only so simple. But just some days. Just days like today.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-79925616349884537892011-04-12T19:18:00.000-04:002011-04-12T19:18:41.247-04:00Why do we have. . .Dinner can be a great time of the day. As my parents taught me, and as we have tried to do in our own family, dinner is a specific time in which other things do not intrude. Cell phones are kept put away, everybody sits down together, and we try to talk to each other.<br />
<br />
I do feel it is an important time.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, this also leads to some funny, funny moments. Such as tonight.<br />
<br />
We were sitting there, having dinner, when Alex asked a simple question. We were having a finger food meal. No utensils necessary. But we had forks, just in case. Suddenly Alex turned to us all and asked "We do we even have forks?"<br />
<br />
Elissa's explanation was very thorough. "Well, sometimes when we eat, we swallow some extra air down into our stomachs. This builds up, then eventually needs to be released. When it does, it comes out as a burp."<br />
<br />
The look on Alex's face was priceless. Confusion, mixed with amusement as he looked fixedly at the fork.<br />
<br />
That was when I pointed out that he had asked why we had forks, not burps. Awesome.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-39355353899819098832011-04-12T15:42:00.000-04:002011-04-12T15:42:33.271-04:00Dusting myself offThis last week I had to write something.<br />
<br />
It wasn't something long. It wasn't something creative. I fact, it was just pretty dry regurgitation of some number crunching. You know, a few p values, a little M&M (Materials and Methods). Yeah, I had to write and abstract.<br />
<br />
It was hard. Really hard. Fortunately, it turned out well and I was able to submit it. But it was a moment of realization.<br />
<br />
I realized that, just as with anything else in life, if you don't do something, if you get out of practice, it becomes tough when the heat is on. Something which had previously been pretty easy for me, writing, was suddenly really tough. Now, some of that was due to the nature of the project, the need to be technical, precise and concise (after all, I do tend to be verbose). <br />
<br />
But a lot was due to the simple fact I haven't been writing anything with regularity. I hope to rectify that. Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-91865128642931406012010-06-04T13:44:00.000-04:002010-06-04T13:44:23.548-04:00And a "New Moon" rises<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://imgur.com/ZuTii.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://imgur.com/ZuTii.jpg" width="143" /></a></div>"You have not idea how tight I'm bound." - Jacob Black<br />
<br />
"I have to go." - Bella Swan<br />
<br />
There is a beauty to those quotes up there. They perfectly encapsulate the acting range of the stars of the hit <i>New Moon</i>. Some may have seen that I posted on Monday night that my wife and I were going to watch <i>New Moon</i>. We did. It was amazing.<br />
<br />
What was most amazing was just how constipated all the actors were. I mean, really. Bella frequently clutched her abdomen as if she was in agony, as waves of bowel spasms racked her poor tortured body. Anyone who knows will tell you that our emotional well being and our physical well being are intimately tied together. I really feel bad for Edward, Jacob and Bella. Even after Jacob admits to being "tightly bound" he doesn't seem to get any relief. One would think that wolves keep things moving through. I suppose not.<br />
<br />
Then you have vampires. I get that they are backed up. All that iron and no roughage, it just isn't good for you. So Edward has an excuse for the fact that his only facial expression is one of severe constipation. I can sympathize. Let me just say, when I was taking the narcs for my kidney stone, I reached a point when the back-upedness was worse than the stone. TMI, probably, but there you go.<br />
<br />
While watching the movie, I just hit a point though when I ran out of steam. I did well through the first 2/3, making wise cracks for just about everything. But I couldn't keep it up. The constant rictus of agony on the faces of the principals in the movie got to me. No one could act like that all the time and not have some serious bowel issues.<br />
<br />
My Rx for <i>Eclipse</i>? Metamucil with Miralax chasers. Maybe they will actually look human then.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-1143985269951139792010-05-30T20:58:00.000-04:002010-05-30T20:58:28.327-04:00It's called a "butt swirly"On an almost daily basis, we are reminded just how different boys are from girls. Our oldest two are beautiful girls, and raising them has certainly led to some interesting moments. But nothing compares to what our oldest son has come up with.<br />
<br />
A week or so ago I was explaining to the children what a number of childhood torture techniques were. You know, the classics: wet willie, Indian burn, purple nurple, dead arm, mule bite, swirly. Along with each name, I had to explain, in some detail, what the technique involved. <br />
<br />
Tonight, Alex was getting ready for his shower. We heard him yelling something from the bathroom. Not mad or upset, just yelling. I went in to the bathroom to see what was going on. There he was, stark raving naked, sitting on the toilet. Only, he wasn't really sitting on the toilet. He was sitting IN the toilet. The toilet seat was up and he had his hind end fully in the water.<br />
<br />
What was he yelling? "Butt swirly, butt swirly, butt swirly!"<br />
<br />
He looked at me, completely serious as he tried to reach behind him to flush the toilet "I'm just trying to give myself a butt swirly, to wash the poop right down the toilet!"<br />
<br />
Seriously? Seriously.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-90600201246106521032010-04-28T13:01:00.001-04:002010-04-28T13:01:27.507-04:00Coffee must hate cups<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://imgur.com/6CDVJ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="118" src="http://imgur.com/6CDVJ.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I have a theory. Here it is. Brace yourself, cause this is big.<br />
<br />
Coffee hates cups.<br />
<br />
Seriously. I believe it can't stand the thought of being confined into this small cardboard/plastic/metal/ceramic container. Like Freddy Mercury, coffee just wants "to break free".<br />
<br />
I mean, why else would it be spilled more than any other beverage I have ever seen?<br />
<br />
While I don't imbibe alcohol, I have been to concerts and sporting events at which alcohol was being freely sold and consumed. Sure, there were some spills. But nothing like freaking coffee. And heck, at least those people had the excuse that they may have been a few drinks in and were carrying their beverages amidst large crowds.<br />
<br />
No, I don't drink coffee either, so I may not fully understand this phenomenon. I am, however, surrounded by regular coffee drinkers. Like every day, many times a day. Such is medicine, right? Every day I see someone with fresh coffee stains on their white coat. Every day I see spilled coffee in puddles on the floor, or stains on the carpet. I see my colleagues reaching for the paper towel to wipe the coffee off their hands before it gets on their clothes.<br />
<br />
I am a water drinker. Sometimes I will also have a glass of milk. But I don't usually spill those beverages on me. Sure, everyone has the rare spill, but nothing like I see with coffee. Is it because it is hot? Is it a secret coffee drinker only sign? Is a ritualistic? Does it make the coffee taste better?<br />
<br />
There has to be some explanation, because otherwise, I just don't get it.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-35242033897770509142010-04-26T15:55:00.000-04:002010-04-26T15:55:03.057-04:00The price of experiencePlane ticket from SLC to NC: $250<br />
Medical degree from private medical school: $Lots<br />
Live experience from those four years: Priceless<br />
<br />
I had an interesting discussion with a physician in clinic a bit ago. He is a very intelligent, very well respected physician here, and he and I have discussed our families before. He was talking about convincing his college age children to choose state schools over private institutions.<br />
<br />
His main talking point was financial. And he brings up a very good point. My wife and I both went to a state university, graduated with (in my opinion at least) great educations, and with absolutely no educational debt. That last part was a huge blessing.<br />
<br />
When it came time for medical school, I had a similar choice. I could have stayed close to home and gone to the University of Utah. It is a good medical school and the tuition certainly would have been less. The competing option was Duke. After some serious reflection, discussion and prayer, we chose Duke.<br />
<br />
Due to that choice, I have, to be quite honest, sizable educational debt. That debt would have been much less had we chosen otherwise. And my education would have been comparable (no matter what the Dukies may say). <br />
<br />
But the experience would not have been the same.<br />
<br />
Of course, I am just guessing. Perhaps I am rationalizing to ease the pain of the student loans. This I know: had we stayed at the University of Utah, we would have relied heavily on family. I love our families. They are wonderful. But I think that, as a family, we are stronger than we would have been because we have been without them.<br />
<br />
In North Carolina, our church group became our family. We had to build strong friendships and learn to rely on ourselves and our friends, rather than being able to run to family. That growth is something I just don't think you can put a price tag on.<br />
<br />
Ultimately, I also don't think I would be where I am at this time. I had very different plans when I started medical school as to what I wanted to do professionally. The change really was due to people I met at Duke. You just can't discount that. <br />
<br />
In the end, money is just that: money. But experience, well, that you can take with you.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-59628413255119865032010-04-22T17:25:00.000-04:002010-04-22T17:25:39.028-04:00Star Wars: watching it again for the first time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://imgur.com/rz6x2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://imgur.com/rz6x2.jpg" width="140" /></a></div>I was only one when <i>Star Wars</i> was released. I honestly don't remember my first time watching it. However, the legacy has lasted my lifetime thus far. I clearly remember the shock of the revelation of <i>Empire Strikes Back</i>. <br />
<br />
Since that time, I have read books, played games, watched movies (even a mere 2 days after my first child was born!) and had a blast with the Star Wars universe. It has been even more fun to see my children discovering the world of Star Wars. They have played many of the major scenes of the movies in Lego Star Wars: The Complete Saga. <br />
<br />
Alex, in particular, has embraced Star Wars. This certainly has something to do with his friend's love. For his recent birthday, a friend gave him a lightsaber, and it has barely left his hands since that day.<br />
<br />
However, none of my children have actually seen <i>Star Wars</i> or any of the other movies in the saga. They are familiar with characters, some of the events, but they haven't ever experienced <i>Star Wars</i> the way I experienced it: through the original movies. The reasons are many, but mostly because I haven't been sure they were both old enough and interested enough. <br />
<br />
Tonight I shall rectify this. Alex has been so fascinated by Star Wars that, after thinking about it, I decided he is old enough. I told him as much earlier this week and the light in his eyes was priceless. So we set a date: Thursday night.<br />
<br />
On the way home from work, I picked up the DVD (I have the "Special-Han-Will-Always-Shoot-First-No-Matter-What-Lucas-Thinks-Edition" on VHS, but never have picked up the original trilogy on DVD) from the video rental store. As I walked through the door, I showed him the case. He literally started bouncing off the walls with excitement, clutching the case to his chest.<br />
<br />
Should be fun. It will be like watching it all again for the first time.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-86361319065686461742010-04-21T13:14:00.000-04:002010-04-21T13:14:20.822-04:00An anachronism in the wild: Old school WalkmanThe year was 1988. I was 12. For a few years I had used a huge, white Crown cassette player. This thing was pretty basic. It had no radio, no sound enhancement of any kind. There was no auto-reverse. Instead of a belt clip, this monster had a black strap so you could hang it around your neck (like a millstone). It also required 4 AA batteries, which went on the bottom so this thing was much larger than a cassette tape. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://imgur.com/ipHta.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://imgur.com/ipHta.jpg" width="200" /></a>But I played the heck out of it. It serviced me well. Time moves on though, and this just wasn't going to last. Christmas, 1988. Santa brings me the WM-AF64. This was top of the line. Auto-reverse at the tap of a button, Sony's proprietary <i>Mega Bass</i> sound enhancement, AM/FM radio with three presets as well (these were analog, not digital so you never lost them when the batteries ran out). It also had a screw on belt clip, ran on 2 AA batteries and looked sexy.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://imgur.com/0kbmc.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://imgur.com/0kbmc.jpg" width="200" /></a>I loved this thing. I used it every day for years, and it withstood all that heavy use. It would be replaced in 1994 by my first Discman, the D-33. This, too, had <i>Mega Bass</i> and was billed as a "car" discman, meaning it was mounted on suspensors to try to limit the skipping. It was also a beast. Huge, thick, and a bit of a battery hog. But it played me sweet, sweet music. Years later I would finally retire this (after being married and having one kid!) in favor of the D-SJ15, a Sports branded discman that had buffering, was watertight and had a handy strap to use while running. In fact, I still have <a href="http://imgur.com/bfU1O.jpg">this discman</a> buried in a drawer in my room.<br />
<br />
But as we all know, technology advances. Time stands still for no one. I finally jumped on the iPod bandwagon in 2006 with a 5th generation 30 GB model. While I still have and use that iPod, the most commonly used is my 3rd generation iPod Nano (the best model in terms of form IMO). I love it and use it every day. And even then, I recognize that I am a few years behind the times.<br />
<br />
So imagine my shock as, while driving home from work the other day, I saw a women getting ready to go for a walk outside. She appeared to be planning on exercising, wearing athletic shoes and shorts. She put some headphones on, then I saw her reach to her waist and push play on a huge, white Walkman style cassette player. <br />
<br />
I was aghast. <br />
<br />
Honestly, I don't even have any cassette tapes anymore. I did, for years, but have no idea what happened to them or when they were left by the wayside. Heck, my CDs basically only exist long enough for me to rip them to my computer then they go downstairs into storage. Yet here this woman was, embracing technology from 1962, carrying at most 120 minutes of music in that bulky box. And here I sit with 881 songs, totaling who knows how many hours, in a device smaller than a credit card and barely as thick as a couple sticks of gum.<br />
<br />
My how the times have changed. Though I cannot deny getting a little nostalgic for the tape hiss at the beginning of Europe's <i>The Final Countdown</i>, especially the start of "Cherokee" on side B. Man I played the heck out of that tape.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-11071276005255690612010-04-19T21:27:00.000-04:002010-04-19T21:27:19.202-04:00Avatar: on coming late to the party<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://imgur.com/eWWit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://imgur.com/eWWit.jpg" width="168" /></a></div><span id="goog_828157510"></span><span id="goog_828157511"></span><span id="goog_6087494"></span><span id="goog_6087495"></span>I am a science fiction fan. I wouldn't go so far as to say I am a nut. I mean, I have never been to any type of convention, so that has to bump me a notch or two in the normal direction. At least I so delude myself.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, I like sci-fi movies, books, games, etc. I also am easily amused by flashing lights and showy graphics. So, given both of those aspects, I should have been seeing "Avatar" with my polarized lenses on day one, right? <br />
<br />
Not so.<br />
<br />
Enter geography. I live in the Upper Valley, this little pocket in New Hampshire and Vermont right on the Connecticut River. It is a great place to raise a family. Low crime rates, good schools, safe neighborhoods and top quality medical care (I am probably biased in that last regard, but hey, what ya gonna do). It is also a great place if you like spending time outdoors in nature.<br />
<br />
It is not a great place if you like easy access to entertainment. True, we have a theater in Lebanon and one in Hanover. Both have small screens, with weak sound systems that are easily topped by the home theater set up your friend has (or maybe even you have). The Nugget (the Hanover theater) sets itself apart though by being clean, and catering somewhat to the art-house theater crowd that Ivy League schools are bound to attract.<br />
<br />
The Lebanon house-o-crap, on the other hand, is run-down, dirty, and so ghetto that the marquee does not have a single full movie title on it. In fact, they don't even give each movie its own line. For example, a month or two ago the movies "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" and "Shutter Island" were sharing a line, and became the new (and much more interesting sounding movie IMO) "Wimpy Island". I'd see that, thank you very much.<br />
<br />
Yet, they still charge $8/ticket. I'm pretty selective of what I will go see there. Or I'm just selective of when I will go see a movie there (ie. we have a babysitter and then will go just so we can actually go on a date). "Avatar" was, of course, showing there, but I had no desire to pay $16 for a poor experience. The closest decent theater is south in Hookset, and they were showing it in 3D there. Some friends said is was awesome. But that is 90 minutes away, one direction. Figure out the babysitting for that one with a 4-5 month old (at the time it was released). 180 minutes both directions with a 150 minute movie, plus some buffer time and you have a 360 minute affair. Right, like that was going to happen.<br />
<br />
So I figured if I was going to see "Avatar", I would just as soon pay $3 to rent it for a subpar experience if my only real option was to see it at the Lebanon Ghetto 6 (not its official title, but the one I have loving bequeathed it).<br />
<br />
Enter vacation. Guess what? There is an IMAX 3D theater in Myrtle Beach. Oh, and they are still showing "Avatar". And we had built in babysitting since we were there with my in-laws. How could I pass that up? Well, I couldn't, so I didn't.<br />
<br />
So here is the part I actually talk about the movie. If you made it this far, good on you.<br />
<br />
In a nutshell, Avatar was a blast. Sure, the story is one big freaking cliche. It isn't original, it is very predictable, and it ends pretty much how you knew it was going to (unless, I suppose, you were lobotomized or something). But you know what? It was still beautiful to watch and a thoroughly enjoyable spectacle. I have to give it to James Cameron, the 3D aspect of it was fabulously done.<br />
<br />
Unlike other 3D attempts, this didn't feel forced. I didn't feel that they were constantly reminding me this was in 3D. Sure, there were scenes that showcased that better than others, but they felt like natural parts of the movie. After a while, I actually forgot I was wearing ridiculous glasses and watching something gimmicky, it just seemed natural. The CGI was still certainly CGI. But it was very, very good CGI. The aliens looked amazing. Very expressive and emotive. And the fact that they were aliens helped avoid the whole <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncanny_valley">uncanny valley</a> problem.<br />
<br />
As I said, the story was nothing to get excited about. But that wasn't the reason to see this movie. It was all about spectacle. And that was delivered in droves. Maybe, when done well at least, there is something to this 3D technology.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-412317183653015772010-04-19T09:25:00.000-04:002010-04-19T09:25:45.922-04:00Writings are hard!As my second daughter would say: "Oh brilliant."<br />
<br />
Not even a full week in to my "experiment" to blog daily, I miss a freaking day. And it wasn't even as if I was too busy. I just forgot. Now granted, I was spending the day getting 60+ GB of music tagged appropriately so iTunes (oh how I hate you!) wouldn't choke on it. Then again, my iTunes hate is a full blog article on its own.<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, here it is, Monday morning, and I realized no blog article on Sunday. Curses, curses, curses, I've been foiled again.<br />
<br />
So how about two today? Maybe? I'll see if I am struck with inspiration sufficient to produce <b>another</b> article. Yes, that means this one counts. It's an article, right? Ya wanna fight me about it? I didn't think so. I tell ya, some day, writings are hard.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-28414764678184053902010-04-16T08:31:00.000-04:002010-04-16T08:31:57.495-04:00Heading homeHeading home is always a mixed bag. On the one hand, I am looking forward to sleeping in my own bed, being able to make meals in our own kitchen, and just being around our own stuff. <br />
<br />
However, as I look out the balcony window at the waves of the Atlantic crashing against the shore, I can't help but feel some sadness and remorse. This has been a great week. We have been able to play together, reconnect with family, and just relax in a way that isn't possible at home, even when not working.<br />
<br />
I suppose the vacation isn't over yet, though. <br />
<br />
We get a 9 1/2 hour drive today (past DC), and a 7 1/2 hour drive tomorrow (through NY). Let the good times roll.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-12080895247737511322010-04-15T19:52:00.000-04:002010-04-15T19:52:30.654-04:00Project 260Look, I am the first to admit I am not a great writer. I would like to be better, though. One of the most common recommendations to become a better writer is to write. <br />
<br />
Sounds easy, no?<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, I have really struggled in the writing department as of late. As my brother and I are working to reinvigorate our <a href="http://progged.blogspot.com/">music blog</a> I feel the need to up my game a little. Thus begins my 260 day project. There is nothing magical about 260. It just happens to be the number of days left in the year. Yeah, I started a bit late.<br />
<br />
I will write a blog article at least once a day in an effort to become a better writer. Some will be trash, of that I am sure. Hopefully amongst the throw-away articles, something decent will emerge.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-87050430560432752732010-04-04T07:01:00.000-04:002010-04-04T07:01:40.864-04:00Back in actionYes, I have let this slide a bit. I will try to do better. Perhaps a shiny new theme will inspire me.<br />
<br />
February wasn't a really great month for me on the running front. I managed to go, but not very often. I was in a funk. It wasn't something I looked forward to. March was better. I managed to get in some good, long runs. Sadly, April isn't starting off to great. Hopefully I can remedy that this week.<br />
<br />
Next week will also, hopefully be a good one. We are actually going on vacation! I know, how crazy is that. Thanks to my in-laws, we will be spending 5 days in Myrtle Beach, SC. We will be staying at the Dunes Resort, and honestly, if you ever have a chance to go there, take it. Indoor water parks, right on the beach, it is a blast. Should get some nice runs in the morning. Maybe even a run or two on the beach.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.rentalsmb.com/featuredproperties/uploaded_images/dunesvillageresort-717063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://www.rentalsmb.com/featuredproperties/uploaded_images/dunesvillageresort-717063.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I have also been determined to get my <a href="http://progged.blogspot.com/">music blog</a> collaboration with my brother back up and running. I wouldn't pretend that we are somehow skilled music critics. However, we do love music and are articulate enough to write what I hope are insightful reviews. Feel free to stop by and bookmark us. Hopefully this can reinvigorate my blogging overall.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-53278628051184512192009-12-19T13:01:00.001-05:002009-12-19T13:01:40.420-05:00Losing myselfI managed 10.5 miles this morning. Kept my pace about the same as it has been. It was ridiculously cold (3 degrees F), but once I got going, it felt great. I am beginning to think I just might be as crazy as people keep telling me I am.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, over the course of the past few months I have been pretty regular with the exercise. I have been doing some resistance training along with the running. And I am finally starting to notice some results. My pants are getting quite baggy. Particularly through the legs. This is unusual for me, as I have always had beefy legs.<br />
<br />
So, I decided to break out the tape measure and see what was going on. Here are some comparisons to this summer.<br />
<br />
I have lost 20 lbs<br />
<br />
I have lost 2.5 inches in my waist<br />
<br />
I have lost 3 inches in my chest<br />
<br />
I have lost 3 inches in my hips<br />
<br />
I have lost 3 inches from EACH thigh<br />
<br />
Slowly, but surely, I am losing myself. I think I like this.Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-61621468043104448972009-12-12T15:15:00.002-05:002009-12-12T15:28:46.241-05:00Meet Captain Ice Beard!<div>Another Saturday. This means time for another long run. After the success of last week's endeavor, I decided to push a bit more this week. It helps that I have a wonderful wife who is so supportive.</div>
<div>So the plan for the day was 9 miles. For the record, that would be the farthest I have ever run. At once, of course.</div>
<div>Last night, though, the temperature was in a bit of a downward spiral. The wind was blowing and what started out in the 30s was quickly approaching the bottom half of the 20s, with a threat for a continued downward trend. I have this awesome clock that projects onto the ceiling. It syncs the time automatically from the atomic clock in Colorado, so it is always correct. And it connects to a remote thermometer that I have placed outside in the back of the house.</div>
<div>Last night, as I was going to bed, the temperature was 22 F. Hmm. Chilly. But I was determined.</div>
<div>So the alarm goes off. I gaze at the ceiling. 12 F.</div>
<div>Are you freaking kidding me? That is like -10 C! That ain't right. Freaking New England. Freaking snow. Freaking winter. I could still be wearing shorts in North Carolina. Argh.</div>
<div>But I really wanted to go. So up and at 'em. I did wait until the sky started to lighten, so that at some point during the run the sun would actually rise. I layered. It worked. Mostly. </div>
<div>My face was incredibly cold for the first mile or so, but by then I was starting to warm up and I was beginning to sweat. A few more miles down and I was sweating in earnest. But it was too cold to evaporate. So what does it do? It freezes. On my face. In my beard.</div>
<div>9.3 miles later I had become Captain Ice Beard.</div><div> </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414449160970114818" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XTxoicwiFM0/SyP80y4JFwI/AAAAAAAABag/3mIhC2HgoiY/s200/Captain+ice+beard.jpg" />
<div></div>Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-10183308249295739852009-12-11T13:37:00.003-05:002009-12-11T14:29:56.738-05:00Changing color, changing seasonsFaithful reader(s), you may have noticed a change in the top of my blog. I just couldn't resist. The picture of the vibrant red leaves was just too beautiful. I had to add it. Fall in New England is truly breathtaking (even though it only lasts for a week or two). It is sort of like Mother Nature's last chance to apologize for what is to come. As such, the changing color of the leaves is always just a bit ominous.<div>
</div><div>I was thinking, though, about another change of color. One I find far more ominous and frightening.</div><div>
</div><div>My hair.</div><div>
</div><div>I have blond hair. It is true. I have white eyebrows and a red beard. It is sort of like my genotype just couldn't make up its mind about what sort of phenotype it wanted to produce. Yeah, even my genes are wishy-washy. However, because of the red beard (and the, ehm, "fair" complexion) people in the operating room just assume I have red hair as well (since they always see me with an OR cap on). And while the reports are that I had red hair when I was born, I have never seen photographic evidence of this. Mom, I'll just have to take your word for it.</div><div>
</div><div>Be that as it may, my hair is blond. Not almost-white-blond, but not really red or strawberry-blond either. It hides things well. Things like gray/white hairs. I consider this as something that works in my favor.</div><div>
</div><div>Something else that works in my favor is that, for about 8 years or so, I kept my hair mostly buzzed. Not Gillette smooth, but very short. You know, no attachment on the clippers short. Earlier this year I decided I would try the whole hair thing again. Interestingly, quite a few people told me I actually looked younger with hair. Bonus. Right?</div><div>
</div><div>I'm not so sure.</div><div>
</div><div>A few weeks ago, my dear wife was standing close by and looking at my head. Not sure why, but there you go. Suddenly she asked, innocently enough, "Is that a gray hair?"</div><div>
</div><div>I was taken aback. I was speechless. I was horrified. I was irrational. For reasons I still cannot explain, that simple question was so offensive to me. The very notion that I was starting to go gray was anathema. My wife looked at me as if I had lost my mind. She tried to assuage my grief, ensuring that it was "dignified". Hogwash. It isn't dignified. It is OLD.</div><div>
</div><div>In an effort to rally the troops to my side, I mentioned this experience to some fellow residents. To my horror, they agreed that I was overreacting! What is their problem? I am too freaking young to have white hairs!</div><div>
</div><div>To the bathroom. Tweazers in hand, I gazed into the mirror. I saw an errant sideburn hair. Grabbed, pulled, out. I looked closely. Crap. It was white. A few minutes later, a few more hairs, all white. But I think I got them all.</div><div>
</div><div>Fast forward to this week. Again, while looking at my sideburns, my wife sees another couple of white hairs. And POINTS THEM OUT TO ME!!! As if my reaction the first time wasn't enough, she tempted fate and went down that dark path again. My reaction was, well, irrational. Again.</div><div>
</div><div>Reflecting on my reaction, I just don't know why this is bothering me so much. My hair color hides the white hairs quite well. You only notice if you are looking closely. Nevertheless, I am really bothered by this. I mean, I am only 33. Going gray/white already? And yet, it has never phased me when I see those younger than me with much more gray adorning their crowns.</div><div>
</div><div>Some times it frightens me just how crazy I am.</div>Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-8779333911099755502009-12-05T11:41:00.006-05:002009-12-05T17:58:42.910-05:00A moment of revelationIn an effort to improve my over all health, I decided to plunge back in to the world of regular exercise. It is amazing how poorly us doctors do at taking care of ourselves. The medical field has created this culture of self-neglect. In some aspects, I think the pendulum is swinging a bit. However, life as a resident is built on a firm dictatorial foundation. As in you dictate next to nothing about your life.
However, as this year is my "research" year, I felt it was the best time to establish some healthier habits, ones that hopefully I can carry through the next two years after this until I am done and (hopefully) have a little more control over my schedule.
As such, I have rediscovered that perhaps running isn't just as insane as I used to think it was. Here is a little secret: I used to hate running. In fact, hate may just not be sufficiently strong to convey my feelings about it. I loathed it. I thought it was evil, a beast that should be chained in the deepest pit of Tartarus. Yeah, not a fan.
But biking just wasn't doing it for me. It didn't feel like enough of a workout unless I really went for a while. Still fun, but just not what I was looking for. So I decided I would try running again. I have flirted with running in the past. I have even reached a point where I didn't despise the very thought of it. But I never honestly could say I liked it.
Until this morning.
Getting back in the swing of things after some sickness and some stress at work, Thanksgiving morning I went for a 5.5 mile run. The most I have done in at least 4 years or so. It hurt. But mentally I was pleased I had done it, even if it was not fun. I have done pretty well since then, running regularly (a well as some cross training with weights, jump rope, etc.) with one other >5 mile run.
<div></div>
<div>I planned to do a 10k this morning. </div>
<div>10k isn't a lot for people who actually run. You know, people who are healthy and in shape. Those sorts of people. But for those like me, you know, us fatties, 10k is a long freaking distance. I mean seriously, moving my meaty frame at a constant jog for 6.2 miles is a pretty big deal. So it took some mental preparation. I knew how far to go, where to turn around and had a sound plan.</div>
<div></div>
<div>0630 this morning I set out. A tad later than I was initially planning, but still early enough. As usual, it felt a little rough for the first kilometer or so. But I kept going and eventually it stopped hurting, and if it didn't feel good, it wasn't at least feeling awful.</div>
<div></div>
<div>Then "it" happened. For the past week the Nike+ sensor in my shoe had been telling me the battery was low. But it had still been working, recording my mileage and telling me when to turn around. Alas, at 3.92k my iPod told me it had stopped recording activity. Yep, my sensor was dead. </div>
<div></div>
<div>I won't lie. There was a part of me that just about turned around then. It would have been 8k, not bad and still a good run.</div>
<div></div>
<div>But I still could listen to music, and I knew when to turn around to make it the full 10k. So I decided to press on. I hit the half-way point and a funny thing happened. I decided to go a little farther. I knew how far to go to add another half mile out, adding a full additional mile to the run. 7.2 miles was sounding pretty good. Still, sitting in the back of my mind was the fact that however far I went away from home, I had that far to go on the return trip.</div>
<div></div>
<div>But I made it. Then another funny thing happened. I decided to go a bit farther. Up, over the pasarela (overpass, but for some reason they will always be pasarelas to me) and up to the High School. There I decided to turn around. I was actually feeling pretty good. Granted, I wasn't setting any speed records, but I was still running my pace and in a groove.</div>
<div></div>
<div>Five miles into the run, with a way to go still the weirdest thing happened. Something I have never felt before. I felt great. Not just good, but great. I'm talking grinning from ear to ear, breathlessly singing along with my iPod, giving high-fives to the low hanging tree branches great. I felt giddy.</div>
<div></div>
<div>I have heard about a "runner's high". Lis talks about them and my dad has even made mention of it. I thought it was fiction. You know, something that runners talk about to fool us regular folk in to running, telling us eventually we will feel it just to keep us going. In short, I thought it was a lie.</div>
<div></div>
<div>Not any more.</div>
<div></div>
<div>I felt higher than a kite this morning. I don't regularly use mind or mood altering substances. I have, on very few occasions, used narcotics while in the throws of passing kidney stones. I hated those. No idea why people would pay good money to feel that way.</div>
<div></div>
<div>But this was different. If I could have bottled this feeling to sell, I would be a millionaire. I felt invincible. I loved it. I crave feeling it again. </div>
<div></div>
<div>Oh dear. Looks like I got my first hit today, and now I am hooked. I just may become something of a junkie. 7.8 miles done, and I was already planning next week's runs. And, yes, I bought a new sensor today.</div>
<div></div>
<div></div>Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-40245268328677635852009-12-04T18:15:00.003-05:002009-12-04T18:19:04.205-05:00Gareth laughs and fills us with joyThree months have passed, and Gareth is turning into his own little person. It is amazing just what the simple things will do for little babies. As he smiles more and becomes more interactive, he fills our home with just that much more joy.
Here is a bit of that joy to share with you all.
<p align="center"><object width="445" height="364"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zHD4HfFU-4w&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&border=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zHD4HfFU-4w&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"></embed></object></p>Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-7720489680699563202009-10-09T11:22:00.002-04:002009-10-09T11:42:28.475-04:00Obama and the Homecoming RoyaltyCongratulations to President Obama. Really. I mean it. I swear.<div>
</div><div>I don't mean this as a slight to him. On the surface, he certainly seems to have sincere intentions. I say on the surface because anyone who knows me knows I think all politicians who reach the upper echelons of government are corrupt individuals. Yeah, I am that cynical.</div><div>
</div><div>Rather, this is directed toward the judges of the (once) prestigious Nobel Peace Prize committee.</div><div>
</div><div>Really? Obama? Seriously?</div><div>
</div><div>He has been President for just over 9 months now. I'm sorry, but that just isn't enough time. Coupled with crises on the home front (with health care and the economic issues) he just hasn't had time to demonstrate actions that, in my opinion, warrant such an international honor. Again, not saying he won't, but it just seems premature. All he has had time to do is spout honeyed words. I don't see any evidence that the world is a more peaceful place since he took the helm of this country.</div><div>
</div><div>What it really screams of, though, is spite. I can't help but feel that this was done simply to spite George W. Bush. Sort of the final slap to the face. You know, "Hey, we are so glad you are gone, we're going to give this guy an award he hasn't done anything for other than not be you." Trust me, I get that. Heck, a lot of us who even may have voted for him at one time are glad he is gone. But this just isn't good enough a reason to award President Obama.</div><div>
</div><div>And while they have picked some other, ehm, questionable people in the past (Arafat?!?!?), at least those people had been around for years, working at whatever they were nominated for.</div><div>
</div><div>Sort of cheapens the whole thing. Makes it feel like a popularity contest. "Are you going to vote for that Barack guy for Homecoming King? He is sooooo dreamy!"</div><div>
</div><div>I only hope President Obama leaves a legacy that warrants this award. I really do.</div>Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-59010224188427737702009-09-09T16:23:00.003-04:002009-09-09T16:45:14.187-04:00Lullabies and high fivesOne of Alex's favorite things is to give very energetic high fives. He high fives with quite the gusto. Every once in a while though, he will settle down enough to be a very sweet little guy.
<p align="center"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_JrIjHvGJZc&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_JrIjHvGJZc&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></p>Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24099589.post-46272513712423926232009-09-09T16:03:00.002-04:002009-09-09T16:18:51.860-04:00First weeks and first daysWell, we are coming up on Gareth's 2 week birthday. In the weeks he has been home with us he has just been an amazing little boy. He eats well, sleeps well and is generally very even tempered. What a little joy. Here are some moments he has shared with us.
<div align="center"><embed height="267" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" width="400" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&captions=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fpetey.jones%2Falbumid%2F5379558603303984849%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US"></embed></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left">Likewise, this past two weeks have brought some first days of school for the older siblings. Here they are, heading out.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div>
<div align="center"><embed height="267" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" width="400" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&captions=1&hl=en_US&feat=flashalbum&RGB=0x000000&feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fpetey.jones%2Falbumid%2F5379559779047994113%3Falt%3Drss%26kind%3Dphoto%26hl%3Den_US"></embed></div>Peterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15196824127699828353noreply@blogger.com0