Old, old, old

I am a step-grandmother. Little Chaose (pronounced "Chase" -- yes, they purposely spelled his name this way, and don't even get me started on my feelings about it) Goldfarb came into the world this afternoon. Mom and baby are healthy, thank goodness.

I hate my job. Well, not completely. I've now been officially cross trained to the Mother/Baby unit. And today I took a preceptor workshop, so I can now orient, mold and shape new nurses . . . gulp. One interesting thing we did in class today was to take a personality test. It's kind of cool to see yourself plotted out on power point slides. I am an introvert, which I knew, but the certainty of the "diagnosis" shocked me nonetheless. The funniest part of all was seeing an aspect of my personality listed so eloquently, right next to the polar opposite personality type, which could be a color portrait of my husband (this was an ASPECT of personality, mind). Sort of anal retentive vs. laissez-faire.

But next week I return to my home unit, and though I welcome its familiarity and comfort after a long orientation, I know what is waiting. Med surg. Poop and insulin injections. Just not my thing. Apparently we will be trained in tracheotomy and ostomy care. Gross. I have got to find something else, soon.

Tonight I went out with two ex coworkers who were intelligent enough to escape the unit. It was a good time.

Non sequitur: I had my first oyster shooter this past weekend. Never knew what that was; it is fascinating. A shot glass with a raw oyster, some cocktail sauce, and then vodka poured over, surprisingly delicious. And I can't believe I had been living before devouring lobster Benedict. Yup, I have a new favorite bar/restaurant and brunch spot.

Song of the day: "Flake" by Jack Johnson.

So I'll be 33 years old next week, and while my birthdays have historically been some of my favorite days, I can't seem to feel excited about it this year. Nobody else cares anymore by the time you get to this age, and I'm not sure I do either. All I really want is a lingering date with Bruce. Well, a trip to Jamaica wouldn't hurt, but that ain't in the cards, I'm afraid. We're getting a docking station/stereo for the iPods :)