Hold up, wait a minute.

I really couldn't be mad at anyone but myself. I mean, who in the world leaves only one and a half hours between their house and a flight out of Atlanta, Georgia? Ummm, yeah. That would be me.

The flight was at 1:50. I left my house around 12:15PM with some asinine idea that somehow Interstate 85 would miraculously not have any traffic. Equally crazy was me convincing myself that there would also be no one in the security checkpoint and that my gate would be the first stop off of the train.

Well. Technically, I didn't have a bag to check. I mean, it was the middle of the day and not even a holiday or anything. Certainly I've done the crazy O.J. Simpson airport sprint before and made it nearly every time. But that wasn't in Atlanta. Atlanta is a different beast altogether.



This dog don't hunt in Atlanta. No, it does not.

And so. As The BHE would say I tripped. Tripped when I thought that leaving at 12:15 would be a workable and feasible idea. And I quickly came to know just how much I'd tripped when I saw the flashing lights ahead of me on I-85.

"GOTS to be more careful!"

That's what I said out loud to myself (another saying in our household for those unpredictably predictable snafus) the minute saw the traffic slowing down. This could take forever. And by forever I meant long enough to make me miss my flight. That is, the one that I was already destined to miss due to my ridiculously delusional gameplan.

Um yeah.

Somehow I managed to eke on through the traffic without breaking my wrist on the steering wheel from slamming my hands on it and screaming, "OH COME ONNNNN!" It definitely hurt my ETA but for whatever reason, I was unusually calm.

That placid attitude would come in handy when I reached the Hartsfield-Jackson airport where there was ALL KINDS of construction going on. Detours all over the place. Three lane areas down to one lane. And everybody and their mama confused enough about it all that an already slow process would be even slower.

Grrrr.

At this point, I was on the tippy-tip edge of still having the chance to make it. With some major Flo-Jo action, the fact that I wasn't checking a bag, and the very tiny chance that nobody would (hardly) be in the security check point, yes, I could still make it. Especially if I hurled my bag over my head and let it land on the floor in front of the gate entrance once I got within 100 feet. I mean, it was possible.

And so. I snagged a park in the Park'n'Ride--oh, did I mention that I had to do that, too?--and leaped out of my car to flag down one of those bus thingies. One pulls up quickly and I scurry on like greased lightening. My positive attitude was paying off. Things were looking good in the 'hood.

I shot my linesister, Glencia, a quick text message:

"I'm running a little late to the airport and got behind some delays. Keep your fingers crossed for me, it's looking like I might pull it off."

I hit send and settled my back into the seat. But. The doggone bus just sat there. I cleared my throat to see if the driver lady would look at me and see the urgency in my eyeballs. She did glance my way and then went right back to SITTING IN ONE PLACE. A few seconds later, she popped open the automatic door and stepped down to help a family of five get on the bus.

I felt my waters beginning to trouble. I cleared my throat a few more huffy little times. That's when bus-lady announced, "Just waiting on these last three people I see walking up to join us. I try not to move with only one or two on board. It'll only be a moment."

The well-planned family of five nodded and smiled. And me? All I could say in my head was this:

"GOTS to be more careful!"

I let out a big sigh and accepted the reality before me. It was now official. I had missed my flight.

Ugggh.

This was the weekend that I was going to Chicago to run the Rock'n'Roll Half Marathon with Glencia. This thing had been planned for at least six months and we'd both been training. Our little "Map My Run" apps had been synced up and we'd nudge each other to run either faster or further. Her in Chicago and me in Atlanta. This was the big weekend and both of us were over the moon with excitement about it.

This race date was born out of another failed one. Last year, I tried to sign up for this race called the SeaWheeze Half Marathon and it closed before I could. The race, put on my Lululemon, appeared to be this spectacular waterfront run in Vancouver, British Columbia--a place I'd never been. The race in 2013 had fallen on Deanna's birthday. I was super determined to get in for 2014. Glencia enthusiastically agreed to join me.

We watched and watched on line to see when registration would open for the SeaWheeze 2014. When it opened, the site crashed from people trying to sign up. A few weeks later, the registration opened up again promptly at 1PM EST on a Monday. I was in clinic that day and walked into a patient's room at about 12:48 PM just to say hello behind one of the senior residents. Simple enough, right? Well. The patient had some stuff on her mind. She was sad and I asked one question which became full on tears. Of course, I couldn't rush her. And I didn't rush her.

But.

When I finally left the room, it was 1:12 PM.  I ran to the nearest computer and feverishly logged on to the registration for the SeaWheeze with one hand while texting Glencia to peep her status, too. I didn't reach Glencia immediately, but after about six minutes of sitting in front of a perpetual hourglass, two things happened at the same time:

1. Glencia texting me with all sorts of happy emoticons that she was IN and that it was about to be ON in British Columbia! Woooo hooooooooo!

2. Me sadly sending her back this:

I won't bother to share the expletives that accompanied this screenshot.

Yes. The race that I hyped everyone up for? Especially my dear, dear linesister? Um, yeah. I managed to get locked out of it. Which meant she was officially signed up for a 13.1 mile run in Canada by herself.

Eeek.

Fortunately, there's no better person that could have happened to than Glen. She took it in stride and a few weeks later, suggested we sign up for the Chicago Rock and Roll Half instead. Which was essentially my longwinded point in telling you all of that.

Alright. . .so where was I? Oh. Yeah. My flight. I missed it, y'all. After all that, I was raggedy and missed my flight. Sigh. I took a deep breath and decided to just treat it as a lesson. A lesson that just might piss off my friend, but a lesson no less.

I slid into the long, long line at the Airlines-of-my-choice and hoped somehow the heavens might open up and allow me another chance to get to Chi-town. While in the long, long line, I got this bright idea to ring up the Airlines-of-my-choice to discuss my situation over the phone in case that would be quicker than the agent.

After a rather long hold, I finally got through. I explained that I missed my flight because I got behind an accident. I didn't act huffy or entitled. I knew that this was my fault so I just hoped for the best. Well. Regrettably, the agent gave me the bad news: Getting on the next flight would require me to pay the "change fee." Guess how much? A cool $629.

Uhhhhh, okay.

Which, to me, was code for, "Okay, so you aren't going to Chicago and Glencia is going to hate you forever for having her run not ONE but TWO half marathons on her own due to your raggedocious-ness."

Sigh.

I hung my head and prepared to duck under the black-elastic-tapey-rope-thingy to head home. Just as I did, a uniformed agent strolls over and speaks to me. "Where you going after waiting that long?" He was friendly. Not fresh, just friendly. And so, I chuckled and told him about how raggedy I am for letting my buddy down two for two times on these races. I also told him that the Airline-of-my-choice wanted me to pull out two molars and give them one ovary in exchange for the next flight. I added that the lady on the phone told me that there was no point in staying in the line.

He raised his eyebrows. "Really?" he said, "You know? I think that some things just come down to somebody being willing to look out for you, you know? I mean,  I can't say what will happen but what you got to lose? I mean, really, you might as well stay and line and give the dice a roll." He smiled at me warmly and gestured back to the line.

"You know what? You are so right. The worst that could happen is that I'll stay in Atlanta with the people I love the most instead of going out of town to run. It's a first world issue, right?"

"Right!"

And so. Since you all know that I ended up making it to Chicago and you know that there was no way in THE HELL that I was giving somebody $629, you know that guy was right. Somebody looked out. The other agent at the counter, actually. Even though he looked very mean and like he wasn't going for any drama, he must have felt sorry for me.

"Have a good race, Ms. Manning," the Look Out Agent said. "You're on the next flight."

"Shut up!" The Look Out Agent raised his eyebrows. "I mean. . .thank you SO MUCH!" I started to jump over the counter and kiss him really, really hard on the cheek, but I decided against it. Instead I just did the happy church dance. The agent let the very corners of his mouth turn up, which still adhered to his stoic persona. His eyes were twinkling, though--I caught that part.

I mean, who doesn't feel good at the sight of the happy church dance?

Exactly like this--except more chill.

Ha. Which reminds me--remember when Zachary showed the "happy dance" to his class for show and tell? Ha.

Wait. Where was I. Oh. Yes, I made the next flight.

And so. On I go to the security checkpoint. This was also mayhem and very, very crowded. But by this point I was chillin' like a villain and zen like one of Ms. Moon's hens. The slowpokes didn't bother me in the least. Nor did the lady with the big booming voice that kept hollering OVER and OVER again to everyone to PLEASE REMOVE EVERYTHING FROM YOUR POCKETS.

I bobbed my head to my mental iPod while smiling to myself. I reflected on this idea of how folks can sometimes just "look out for you" and how that really is a free will thing. Stuck that on a post it note in my head for later.

About twenty minutes later, I made it through the checkpoint and down toward the trains to the gates. Of course, I was on the EXACT opposite side of the airport which meant I would need to ride down for like 5 alphabet letter gates to get to my destination. But no problem from my perspective. I was on the next flight and it didn't cost me a high end car note payment. Nobody could rain on my parade.

Nope.

The trains were MAD crowded. Still in my happy place, I grab a hold of the pole in front of me to avoid faceplanting on the B gate stop. Fifty trillion people piled all around me and I just gripped that pole and thought happy thoughts.

A few seconds later, I hear this voice speaking and it sounds really familiar. I look to my left and right beside me is this olive complexioned gentleman with a pleasant expression, talking to what seemed to be his wife. I squinted one eye and tried to place him. Once he spoke a few more words, I figured it out.

"Uhhh. . .excuse me," I blurted right out to him. He and his wife glanced at me and smiled as if they weren't the least bit bothered by my interruption. "Ummm. . . are you. . .like. . .is your name Andy?"

He nodded while reaching out for my hand. "Yes," he said.

"Wow, really? This is so crazy, man." Yes. That's what I said to him.

"This is my wife--"

"Sandra," I said. "I know Sandra."

"Do you attend one of our churches?" Sandra asked.

"Well, actually--no. That's what's crazy. I have LITERALLY listened to the PODCAST of your church for nearly 5 years. Maybe even more. I was turning the channels not long ago and finally actually saw what you looked like, which is wild since I had only heard your voice. But the crazy part is that after all that time, just last Sunday I decided to break down and visit one of your churches."

"Really?"

"Yes. And even crazier than THAT is the fact that now I'm standing here talking to you after missing my original flight. This is crazy."

He just smiled in return. "How was your experience visiting?"

"Well, honestly? When y'all first started with the music, I heard those electric guitars and was like, 'Rut roh.'" Andy and Sandra laughed. They both knew that I was referring to the differences between Christian Inspirational music and traditional Gospel music. I shook my head and let out a playful shudder. "But, actually, it was cool. Then they talked about the outreach programs which really is no different than my current church."

"That's good," he said.

Sidebar:

I was really pretty amazed at a couple of things. One, that this pastor of this consortium of large churches with a total of easily over 20,000 members was rolling along on the regular old train preparing to catch a commercial flight--not a private jet. And two, that he didn't seem even remotely annoyed or rushed by my conversation with him. He was totally accessible, which was really cool.

"So THEN," I went on, "I start rubbing my hands together preparing for you to come on out so I could finally see in person what I'd been hearing on my iPod all this time."

"Wait--was that last weekend?" Sandra asked. She then put her hands to her cheeks and laughed. "Oh goodness."

"Yeah, girlfriend. 'Oh goodness' is right!" (Yes, I said "girlfriend.") "Another dude comes strolling out that wasn't EVEN you talking about, 'We're starting a new series today!' I was like, 'Oh, no YOU ARE NOT!'"

We all just laughed and laughed.

And so. I go on to tell them that I had a wonderful experience and that the gent who preached in his place did a great job. He even preached directly from my favorite scripture of all time--which sort of felt like it was appointed in some way. For me to go that day. For me to be there telling the two of them about it. All of it.

Yeah.

 Let me just say I had a lovely conversation with Andy and Sandra on the train that day. I loved how they'd just made up their minds to be pleasant and approachable. I loved also that after listening to and learning from his voice for so long, that I'd get that very serendipitous opportunity. My guess is that the majority of their church members won't ever get such a chance.

Maybe. Maybe not. I don't know.

Anyways. I stepped off of that train and let that all marinate. And the more I did, the more divine it all felt.

Of course, I know that some folks don't really buy into all of that. But since I do, this was a real pivotal day for me. It was. If I hadn't missed that flight, I would never have met them. Or the gentleman who shared that good word with me before coaxing me back into the line.

Man. I was HELD UP. Delayed to get something even greater that I couldn't have received without that delay. How awesome is that?

That got me to thinking about all of the "not right now" things that happen in my life. On the escalator ride up, my mind wandered into all of the doors that seemingly closed on me at different points in my life and even those that seem to shut before me now. I imagined the great things awaiting me, the important and life altering meetings behind those sliding doors. I stuffed all of it into another corner of my brain and posted up on a post it note in my head:

"Even when you're held up, you're still held up."

or

"You might be delayed for something better." 

Man. I was so glad I missed that flight. Glad that it all worked out exactly like it did.

Now.

For those who are confused over my enthusiasm about meeting Andy Stanley--let me just say this: Imagine meeting someone who you've listened to and learned from for more than five years. A person you really have grown to respect. In a way, you feel like buds since you run on your long runs to the sermon series and do quick elliptical workouts to the half hours podcasts. You feel like you know his entire family and you've listened long enough to feel like this guy and his wife are the type of folks you could be friends with. Well. That's how I've felt when listening to his podcasts. And honestly, I never in a trillion years thought I'd even visit one of his churches let alone meet him and his wife on a train in Hartsfield-Jackson Airport.

But I did. Which, to me, was very, very cool.

Yup.

Sooooo. . . yeah. There wasn't really any point in me telling you all of that. I guess you're just my friends and I sort of wanted to tell you about this experience.  Thanks for reading all of that.

And if you are still looking for more ways to waste time, go to this throwback post from the time I was in LAX and the lady WENT OFF in the line. Ha ha ha. I went back to read it since this airport story reminded me of it. Hadn't read that one in a while!

***
Happy Monday-almost-Tuesday. And shout out to Glencia on her upcoming race in freakin' Vancouver, BC this weekend that, yes, I am hating on at this very moment. *pout*

This. . .the super rad video from the SeaWheeze that made me obsessed with this race. SO bummed I won't be with you, Glencia. (Also Dominique C., my fellow Grady doctor!) Sort of want to cry after rewatching that. Le sigh. Next year, man.



And this. . .now playing on my mental iPod. . . . an oldie-but-goodie gospel favorite of mine. . . . "He's Preparing Me." Which may explain a lot of life's hold ups.



And last, a link to a series Andy preached that I've listened to several times on long runs via podcast. It's called "Starting Over." Very, very good stuff.

Ten random things I want to say before bedtime.

#10

Who's idea was it to start having people stand on the sides of roads twirling signs for businesses? Like, what is UP with these grown people dancing like nobody is watching while dressed like the Statue of Liberty and holding a sign for a tax company? Like, what?

"Hey! On second thought maybe I DO want an apartment in that building! Thanks, Mr. Poplocking Sign Dancer Man!"

Said no one EVER.

#9  

Zachary made a touchdown Saturday! Which is a huge deal on the travel team. He was so, so proud of himself. And the minute he saw me, he immediately started the inquisition about whether or not I saw it.

Duh! Yes!

#8

I need a haircut. Yet I've been too busy to go to the hair salon. This will be rectified this week. Which means a fun post from the hair salon just might come from it.

#7

Am I the only one who is feeling depressed by the news lately? Man. What is up with all of this. . .sigh. I won't even go there. Nope. Not right now. Too depressing.


#6  

I'm so sad about Robin Williams. Like really, truly sad. I know he must have felt lonely and like there was no way out.

I heard a pastor talking recently about how dangerous success is. It isolates you. People are meant to be in community. I wonder if he felt isolated? I don't know.

Depression is so, so complicated. So very. I'm mad at it right now for taking so many special people away.

#5  

Isaiah and I are joining a carpool starting tomorrow. He is ridiculously nervous about it. Think happy thoughts for him, okay? He'll be the youngest guy in the crew.

#4

My husband is the hardest working man I know. Seriously. He's even the hardest working man a lot of the men we know say they know. And they are men.

Wait. Does that even make sense?

Oh well. The brother works hard. But he loves hard, too. I dig that about him. He's the least lazy person I know. And the most unselfish. I haven't been on any BHE tirades lately, but know that I am madly in love with him and crushing on him something ferocious this week. He's a good guy.

#3

We've been going to another church lately. It's my first time attending a church that isn't predominantly black. It's a very different experience. But interestingly, it's the same experience. Same songs, different musical arrangement. No one does the happy dance and they don't even know the happy dance music (black folks are all nodding their heads because they know it.) But that's okay. My soul feels convicted. I'm learning. I'm thinking. I'm growing. So that's all that matters.

Oh, and as for my old church? I loved it. It was just becoming too difficult for me to get there since it was far. And popular. Megachurches like that one can be very, very, very hard to get in and out of. That would make me talk myself out of going and hit up Minister MacBook and Evangelist iPad to just watch on line. I think my former pastor would encourage me to go where I can go instead of continuing to miss his church. So that's what I'm doing.

So far so good.

#2  

My ward team was awesome for the first two weeks of August. Such a great bunch of learners. They taught me a ton and we took excellent care of patients. Loved it.


#1

They accepted my essay about Deanna. Remember the one I wrote for her birthday and submitted on the day before her birthday? The one I tortured my dad with a snot-filled narration of over the phone at 2:33 a.m.? Yes. That one. I employed Deanna's recommended method of going into it thinking I'd win. And not even three days later, I got an email from the Editor-in-Chief of the journal saying he loved it. So that means I won. I highly recommend that approach to life's little challenges.

You know what else?

It's getting published in the special Cardiovascular Disease issue of this journal. That means way more people will read it than just the usual subscribers. And you know what else? It comes out in mid-November--just a few days after the two year mark since she left us.

I'm proud that the world will be introduced to one of the hearts worth fighting for when we fight cardiovascular disease. She was extraordinary. And now a whole bunch of other people will know that, too.

That's all I've got.

***
Happy Monday.

Life in pictures: Two great weeks on the Grady wards.

Teaching + Learning + Caring = Growing. That's what was going on with our team, man. Can't you tell?

I love this job.

***
Happy Saturday.

Now playing on my mental iPod as I think about the privilege of doing what I do and how I feel on nearly every day as I'm about to do it.

On second thought.

I saw a man the other day who mostly spoke Spanish, but who also spoke relatively okay English. So I came to see him and, because of his limited vocabulary in English, had a very "business only" encounter with him. Because of his pride, he didn't want me to go off to get an interpreter. And so. I saw him and evaluated him. And that was that.

Another patient on the same floor spoke pretty much only Spanish. So I called the interpreter line and sat quietly at a computer charting while waiting for the interpreter to come to my rescue. After about ten minutes, up comes my blue-smocked comrade Ana, poised and prepared to bridge the gap between his Espanol solamente and my English only.

Ana was great and things went well so all was fine. We prepared to leave and Ana kindly bid me adieu. But just then, someone spoke words to her in Spanish from across the room. She walked a bit closer and we learned that my first patient, upon seeing me with an interpreter, had a change of heart about not communicating through his native tongue. Ana was super gracious and obliged.

And so. I will keep this simple. Here are ten things I learned about my patient today after I'd already evaluated him but then returning to him with an interpreter. Some of the details are changed, of course, to protect anonymity.

1. He has been married for 38 years.
2. The part of Mexico that he is from is right in the center of the country which helps him to not mind about how landlocked Atlanta is.
3. The key to staying married for 38 years is to talk things out and share your feelings. Even if you get into a big argument, listen to each other and don't just walk away. And always stick together.
4. Sons can be trouble. Girls are easier.
5. He has 9 children, 5 of them sons. But fortunately only one is really big trouble. The girls are all angels.
6. He has 29 grandchildren and more on the way. As in literally more on the way.
7. Atlanta has been his home for the last 25 years but since his whole community is Spanish speaking, he hasn't fully mastered English. But he has come a really long way.
8. Even though his daughters are easier, the child that takes care of him the most and is the most helpful is one of his sons. (Who has 3 kids of his own and one on the way.)
9. Dialysis is frustrating.
10. Family gatherings at his house never have any less than 100 people.

And for the record? Not a single thing changed about my assessment and plan. But I know for certain that coming back to him and truly humanizing him was therapeutic for us both. 

Yeah.

***

Happy Thursday.

What I sent my ward team after that encounter. I wanted them to understand why it's important to get an interpreter for the human connection.

"Read this to understand my feelings about the power of getting interpreters. It explains better than I could today on rounds. 

http://www.gradydoctor.com/2013/03/los-dedos-azules.html

Dr. M."

If I can't see your face, I will remember your smile.

You bring me joy
Don't go too far away
If I can't see your face, I will remember your smile

But can this be right?
Always said we'd be friends
I get lonely sometimes and all mixed up again
'Cause you're the finest thing I've seen in all my life
You bring me joy

My joy, my joy
Oh baby, this is gonna be what you want it to be
I just love you, I just love you, can't you see?
That you're the finest I've seen in all my life
You bring me joy

My joy... you're my joy
My joy... my, my joy

Thank you, baby, thank you, baby
I just love you, baby
I . . just love you, baby

Oohh. . .I just love you. . .you

When I lose my way, your love comes smiling on me.


 ~  from Anita Baker's "You Bring Me Joy"



________________

I heard this song playing on my mental iPod today. A song we both loved and one that now has more meaning to me since you've left your earthly body. So simple, right? You bring me joy. Yes.

I especially like the part that says:

"This is going to be what you want it to be."

Because I think you would have wanted us to all be more glad than sad. So you know what? This is going to be what you want it to be.

But I just love you. Can't you see?

So on days like today, the day that you would have turned 46, it's kind of hard to not be reminded of how much I miss you. You would've been somewhere dancing and laughing and celebrating. Your voice would be down to a tiny squeak because whenever you had a good time, you'd lose your voice. And that part, not hearing and seeing that part? It gets a little hard sometimes.

But this is going to be what you want it to be. It is. More glad than sad. And a day of joy. Even if it's periodically dampened by my sunshowers.

Here's what I either did, will do, or am doing for your birthday:

• Sent the boys off for their first day of school. Reminded them that it is special that the first day of school is on Auntie's birthday and to keep that in a pocket in their hearts all year long. 
• Smiled when Isaiah said, "I know it's going to be a good year. How could it not be if I'm starting on the day Auntie was born?"
• Wore red and white today which I know you would love. And when I get to work, I'm going to pin a violet to my lapel, too. When people ask about it, I am going to tell them. 
•  Wrote an essay dedicated to you and submitted it to a journal yesterday. Signed, sealed and delivered. Cried the whole way through it, but it felt important and right. As soon as I finished it, I called Daddy at 2 o'clock in the morning and read it to him. I cried all the way through reading it to him, too. Even if they don't accept it for publication, it felt good to write it and I think you would have liked it. And now that I think of it, you would say this to me in response to that last statement: "Go into all things thinking you will win and planning on winning. Deal with losing only if it happens. The less you consider losing, the less you'll have to." So maybe I will think like it will get published, okay?
• Going to go for a run. No matter what, I'm going to get one in and I'm going to listen to a playlist of songs you'd love.
•  Going to make sure the people that I love know it. Going to tell Harry how wonderful he is and tell him again a few hours later. Then tell JoLai and Will and Fran the same thing. Again and again.
• Going to take excellent care of my patients. And not be afraid to help them make good choices.
• Going to teach somebody something and be patient when I do.
• Going to encourage somebody and remind them about what you said about thinking like a winner. That advice really helped me.
• Going to let my eyes light up when I see the kids after school. 
• Going to think about you.
• Going to celebrate you.
• And just maybe, I'll scream and shout until I lose my voice.

Thank you, baby. You still bring me joy.

I miss you so much. Especially today.

***
Happy birthday, Sissy.

This is for you. 

VENI, VIDI, VICI: CELEBRATING DEANNA! from Kimberly Manning on Vimeo.

And this, too. Because all who knew you know that you wrote a song for love.

Centennial - A song for love from Kimberly Manning on Vimeo.

Life in Pictures: Goings on.

From my first week on the wards. Had just rescued someone who was locked in the stairwell. For whatever reason, that's always funny to me. Mostly because that person has many times been me.

Medicine nerds unite! Nothing like a field trip down to to the lab to look at slides under the teaching scopes. My resident knew this would give me palpitations of joy, so he snapped this image and sent it to his attending.

My dynamite third year student, Alex R. She's excellent with patients and a real self starter. I'm really enjoying working with her. Oh, and she's also a California girl, like me which only makes me like her more.

Friday night lights! The girls were all back together again. Tanya S. was passing through the states on her way back to Africa where she now lives. Aaah! What a treat! It was like we never missed a beat.

I had just come from Grady to meet up with them. Still in my glasses and work clothes, but so what? I was with three of my original Ruths. I never feel under or overdressed when I'm with these girls. Our laughs are easy and genuine. Acceptance is never the exception--it's the rule.

I have no idea what Marra was showing Tanya in this picture. Probably something naughty hence this diabolical laugh after she caught me snapping a photo of it.

I told them to hide me in my work dress. Ha. Joy gladly obliged and took it as an opportunity to strike a pose in her gingham checked shirt.

We were instructed to look "fierce" here. We look more forced than fierce. Ha.

Dang. My glitter-sparklies are showing up pretty strong on that snap.

Huggies! (That's what Zachary says in the morning or late at night when he wants a hug. Ha.) Now I say that all the time to my friends.

Was great to see Tanya. But bittersweet to know she'd be on another continent in just a few days.

The boys at church today. It was "move up Sunday." The kids get promoted to the next grade classroom for children's church. They build a lot of pomp and circumstance around it which kids really dig.

We all had brunch/lunch at Mardi Gras Cafe afterwards. It's become our post-church ritual now. It's amazing to see how much the BHE has grown that place. Today before we ate, Isaiah said a lovely prayer of thanks for the food but also for his Daddy's thriving restaurant.

Did you know? Harry had never owned a restaurant in his life nor had he ever been in this business. But what he does know is hard work and people. That man is the real deal, I tell you. I'm so in awe of him. He's amazing.

That's him in the background in the yellow shirt. He's been avoiding my paparazzi lately. Ha.

Look at this! Parking spot #33 at the hair salon. That's my lucky number, you know.

Yup.

z

My resident this month, Cameron L., teaching the medical students and the interns. I had just walked into the team room where I found him in the throws of some serious knowledge-dropping. He also wears real bow ties nearly every day except on call.  Sorry I didn't get a snap of it--this was a call day.

He's my kind of resident.

Team H hallway selfie. Cameron was in clinic so when the bow tie is away, the kids all play. (Yes, we were still taking excellent care of our patients, thank you very much.)

We believe in communication on our team. Compassionate and transparent communication. That's what Mayur M. was doing here. He's awesome.

This is what it looks like when your attending physician communicates with you via text. And when 90% of the texts are business but 10% completely random things designed to get everyone to lighten up.

I'm sure you can guess which of those two types Alex and Kevin were reading here. What can I say? This work gets heavy so you've got to lighten up, man.

Are you ready for some footbaaaaaall? Oh yeah!

Hey, did I tell you that Zack made the travel team? Maybe I did. But if I didn't, he did. And yes, his mother most CERTAINLY did buy him a balloon to commemorate this accomplishment. Most certainly did.

Like that boy said to me a few weeks back: "Effort is between you and you."

His effort paid off. And how awesome is that quote? (It's from Ray Lewis, his football hero.)

Here is Zachary mean-mugging after his football game on Saturday. He's starting as a corner back. Exciting stuff. AND we are 3-0 so far. Woot!

 This is Isaiah after I busted him drinking a Sprite at the Omega picnic. He froze like a statue and acted like I couldn't see him. That funny little man.

More of the boys at Harry's fraternity family picnic. I am wondering at what age they will realize that they are actually NOT members of their father and grandfather's fraternity?

Ha.
 

Here with Uncle Keith. He's the BHE's line brother and Zachary's godfather.

I love that my boys are such good friends.

This fun day in the pool last weekend went swimmingly well. That's Isaiah with that funny face and the two handsome little sweeties flanking me are the boys' twin godbrothers, Parker and Peyton.

Had a very lovely "brunch bunch" with these two awesome Emory M2 students, Robbie G. and Will T. I took them to one of my favorite neighborhood spots, Murphy's. I'm so glad they did most of the talking. I got to listen (and inhale my chilaquiles.) Yum!

We are penciled in for another brunch bunch in a few months. This one was so much fun we agreed that we must do it again.

Blue toes at football practice.

Throw your hands in the air and wave 'em like you just don't care. . . . .if you're a big time second grader on the second grade hall!

Never too cool to come give huggies to your favorite first grade teacher, though.

Huggies!

Dinner with Las Jefes. It never gets old being with these girls. Grady doctors through and through.

There is always permission to speak freely. That's the best part.

This was after a five minute visit to a patient turned into a one hour visit. Let's just say she was rather . . errr. . .chatty.

And this. A yummy bowl of green gazpacho at the counter of Ria's Bluebird. Ria, the beloved owner, passed away in 2013 from a heart attack. She was in her forties. I didn't know her personally. But her story and the hole she left behind reminds me of my Deanna. Plus her food is great and her restaurant is adorable. I imagine her hanging out with my sister and talking shit. That makes me like coming here, usually alone.

The price is nice, too. I had a pancake on the side and it only came to 8 bucks. Shweet.

And lastly this. A snap taken on my office photobooth. I was missing my sister and feeling melancholy. Not really crying on the outside, but sort of on the inside I was. So I captured it in an image.

Why? I'm not sure.

My emotions are complex when I'm missing Deanna. I can see it here. So I guess I sort of like that I can.

That's all I've got.

Are you living your life like it's golden? I hope so. I know it looks exhausting but it's not. I'm just alive. And I'm so, so glad.

Yeah.

***
Happy Sunday. Tomorrow is Deanna's birthday and the first day of school. Perfect, right?