Sophie's Story

   When I was younger I would always ask my Dad what he wanted for his birthday. I wanted to know what present I could buy him. His answer was usually the same, nothing. He rarely wants anything for his birthday. As a kid and young adult I never understood that. I always wanted something. Most of the time it wasn't very big or very much, but it was always something. That's not unusual. There's always a toy, a game, a book, some item that you want when you are younger.   A few weeks ago C asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I thought really hard and came up completely dry. I couldn't think of a single thing that I really wanted. I have a good husband, good cats and a nice home for us to live in. I have enough food to eat, clothes to wear and a car to drive when I need to get somewhere. I have two harps and a hammer dulcimer. I have needlepoint projects and books to read. I have good friends. There's truly nothing that I feel I lack.   I did get some gifts yes

   A Facebook friend of C's wrote a post on astrology. C remarked, "waste of time". This person answered with a short rant that ended by calling him "old man". Not content with that she also sent him a text message where she called him a "jerk".   I was furious. Partly because of the immaturity of the person, partly because I don't like it when anyone calls my husband names and partly because this is part of a disturbing trend that I have noticed for the past several years.   I remember when people used to talk to each other. It was called conversation and it provided endless hours of amusement and education for many many people in the days before radio,television, computers, cell phones, Ipods,ebooks etc.. In fact being a good conversationalist was considered a good thing and was the mark of a well rounded person.   Conversation,according to my trusty American Heritage Dictionary, is "A spoken exchange of thoughts,opinions and feelings;

   I saw the card in the rack. There was a picture of a cat and a dog curled up together. Inside the card it said, "In our own weird way, we work." I bought it. That is a good explanation of why C and I have been together for so long.    I don't think anyone would have ever thought we would make a good couple. I'm very much a northerner and he comes from good ole southern boy stock. He grew up among the Southern Baptist Convention. I was raised among Lutherans. He was popular in school and played sports. I wasn't popular, edited the high school newspaper and preferred to spend my time reading. He has never met a stranger and mixes easily with people. I'm shy and awkward around people I don't know. He likes silly jokes and movies. I prefer to be serious and get motion sick in movie theatres.   If you look at us on paper, the only things we have in common are the fact that we are both human beings and we both have hair that is going white.   We actually

    Last week I found myself in a situation I had never been in before. I had supervised interns for three years now. All of them were hard working students that I felt would go out and become good pharmacists in whatever type of practice they chose. All of them had passed my rotation.    Now I was faced with a student that was a bit more challenging. He had come to work every day. He worked while he was with me. He did all his assignments and meticulously researched those things that I asked him to research. At the beginning of the third and final week of the rotation I had to start thinking about his grade.    Normally this isn't something I have to think about. All of my interns have easily passed my rotation. This time was different. I wasn't sure what to do. My gut told me that I could not in good conscience give a passing grade. My head was telling me that doing this would be unfair.    Part of the problem was a lack of experience. All of the interns I have had have

   C and I were watching the Olympic track events. He enjoys watching all of the runners as he used to be one himself. I think he may have even set a record of some sort. I'll have to remember to ask him.    The runners were lining up for the women's 1,500 meter final. Morgan Uceny was on the track preparing to run. This was her first Olympics and the experts had reported that she had a good chance of leaving London with a gold medal. The runners took their mark and started off.    Distance runners, according to C, run in a pack until the last part of the last lap. At that point they begin to speed up and separate in a race to get to the finish line first. The runners were sorting themselves out when Morgan fell to the track. She rolled over on to her knees and pounded the track in frustration,tears in her eyes. The camera stayed with her for a minute, then followed the rest of the runners as they sped on.    The cameras followed the winners as they celebrated their victor

   The past few nights C and I have been staying up way too late watching the Olympics. A few nights ago I found myself unable to go to bed in spite of that fact that I was tired,because I had to watch the end of the team pursuit event. I had no idea what it was about except that strange looking bicycles were involved.   I couldn't stand it anymore and I looked up 'team pursuit' on Wikipedia. I still don't understand it. A team of three or four cyclists ride around an oval track a certain number of times. The goal is to get around the track in the shortest time. The other team is trying to do the same thing and is also on the track, but going in the other direction. Since the lead is the most demanding part of the event, once in awhile the lead rider will peel off to the side and take the rear.   Isn't this the same as a race on a track? Why don't they line everyone up and the first to cross the finish line wins? Where's the pursuit part? As far as I can

  Yesterday I had lunch with my Dad and my Uncle Jay. Lunching with the "Story Boys" , as I call my Dad and his brother, is one of my favourite things to do. Dad and I have always been close and now that we are both older we are also friends as well as father and daughter.   Lunch always goes the same way. We meet at the restaurant, order and eat the entree and then have dessert. I don't usually eat dessert at lunch, but for Dad I make a exception. The waiter brought the dessert tray around. Dad picked turtle cheesecake and Uncle Jay picked raspberry chocolate ice cream. My eye was drawn to the huge slab of carrot cake sitting in the middle of the try. I asked them to bring it to me in a box.    I like carrot cake. It is amazing to me how such a humble root vegetable can make such a great dessert. Anytime carrot cake is on a dessert menu and I have room for dessert, I order it. I have had all kinds of carrot cake. I have had carrot cake with pineapple,with coconut and