Red and Black, Friend of Jack

One of the first things I ever remembering learning in a school-type, formal lesson was snake safety. Ironically, this lesson was not taught at school, but at a class for us kids before kindergarten organized by our parents when I lived in Arizona. The especially ironic thing about it is that this is after I had already started kindergarten and proceeded to get kicked out. And do I remember any lessons from my first time in kindergarten? No. I only remember how excited I was about the time I took broccoli for lunch, and how distressed I was the time my best friend threw up on the bus but everyone thought it was me. But, back to this earliest class-type memory of mine: after talking about how snakes sense movement, the parent teaching us that day told us that as a result, the thing to do when confronted with a rattle snake is to stand perfectly still. She had placed outside in her yard a paper snake somewhere, so we were all supposed to run around until we found it, and then freeze. This we did. As I recall, I was either the first or second to find it (it was on the slide), but that could just be my memory trying to glorify myself. I'm sure I stood very still. I'm usually good at that. =) The next part of my memories relating to snake safety is one that I don't recall the origin of, but I know I know it. The following poem is meant to help me distinguish between two types of snakes (whose names I don't know) that look similar, but one is poisonous and one is not:
Red and Black, Friend of Jack,
Red and Yellow, Kill a Fellow.
Thus, if the red and black stripes are next to each other, the snake is not poisonous, etc. There is one of these types of snakes painted in a giant winding shape on the sidewalk at the San Antonio Zoo, and I always loved to walk on it and decide if it was poisonous or not. Unfortunately, I can't remember if it is or isn't. And although I cannot remember for certain, I doubt that the red and yellow snake is a copper head snake. Which means that despite my extensive training in snake safety, not a whit of it would have helped my roommate (who is really cool, named Sisi, and from China), who recently got bit by a copperhead snake.
That's right. On the foot. What are the odds, anyway? She was hiking on a ranch in Virginia with some of the other interns. I was not there. They convinced her to go to the hospital, so she did, and ended up having to stay two nights there while they gave her some anti-venom stuff. Then she had to be on crutches and not go to work for a whole week! Crazy, eh? And the funny part was, she did not seem to realize what an unusual event this was; I distinctly recall at one point the following conversation as we all huddled around in the emergency room waiting for her to be seen:
Us: "We can't believe you got bit by a poisonous snake. That's so random."
Sisi: "You mean you don't get bit by snakes in America all the time?"
Us: "No, of course not. Is it a common occurrence in China?"
Sisi: "No, not at all. I just thought it was part of the American experience and all."

Unfortunately for her, it has become a part of her American experience. I'm just glad she survived, and that the post-bite infection seems to be going away.
Ironically, her snakebite incident occurred only three days after the removal of my wisdom teeth. The whole general anesthesia thing was really quite an experience; I don't recall every being quite so loopy in my whole life. (Yes, that includes after I wake up from naps.) My Aunt Danita, who lives out here, and four-year-old cousin Lindsey were kind enough to pick me up. I'm not sure Lindsey really remembered me, but I bet I was a lot of fun being all crazy after waking up. That first day sitting at there house was incredibly relaxing - I am so grateful that my aunt was willing to pick me up and take care of me! And now, in case you are wondering, I have pretty much completely healed and can eat anything I want once again. So, despite a few days where my roommate and I both were pretty much out of commission, now I can eat again and she can walk again, and all is right in the world.

Dentistry, and Me

Ned Lunt, DDS. Hardly a second father, but a good man nonetheless. The place he works, however, is one that will forever remain to me a sort of second home at home.
Weird, right? What sort of kid thinks of a dental office as a second home? Especially one who isn't even related to a dentist! Well, that would be me. Not the only thing a little bit odd about me, but people love me for all my little oddities, thankfully. When I was just a wee little thing my dear mother went to work as a receptionist at the dental office. I remember sitting for hours in the back room with my sister, watching movies and playing with our G.I. Joe's (and yes, I do still have them). We would roll our marbles down the back ramp, all three sections, and run around loudly on the weekends when we were there with Mom (for which, I might add, we were definitely reprimanded). Even though I remember getting tired of being there for so long, I also remember always getting excited to go there. All those mysterious posters of teeth on the walls, the noises of dental tools always grinding away, the colorful gloves the hygienists wore; everything about it made it seem just a little larger than life to us little kids.

So, as a tribute to the art of dentistry, my sister says in her simple manner, "Dentristy: bittersweet. I hate the dentistry, but I love the dentist." And I say, "Dentistry, I really like the part where I get control of the water and sucking tools." Together we add, "Thanks to you, dentistry, we loved the dental aspects of Finding Nemo more than most. You give us an appropriate appreciation of modern culture." Thank you dentistry, for all you have done for us.

The World is My City

Last night I saw a man get shot. Right in my own neighborhood.* So today, to protect myself from being hunted down by the shooter himself to keep me from talking, I took off and traveled the world, along with a couple of other interns who saw the shooting with me. We went first to Japan, then passed Saudi Arabia and Thailand on our way to our next stop, Ethiopa.


From there we continued on to Bangladesh, where we got ourselves some henna tattoos, and briefly looked a bit at Pakistan.


Next we arrived in Nigeria. Here we found ourselves immersed in loud, indigenous music. We were surrounded by wonderfully happy people dancing in native costume, and could smell tantalizingly good food where ever we went. The whole time I thought to myself, "Self, remember that Nigerian man who once proposed to you? If only you had said yes, this could be your life."



But alas, it was not to be, and so we continued on for a final stop in Malaysia. We figured that at this point it was probably safe to return back to D.C., so we trekked through the jungles of Bangladesh, encountering a lost dog tag...

...on our way through a bamboo field.

We did, however, get slightly sidetracked when we accidentally stumbled upon a Buddhist sanctuary. The receptionist insisted on giving us a tour, and took us through enchanting hallways, passing rooms within which we heard mysterious chanting and saw beautiful shrines and candles. After finally arriving back at Dupont Circle in D.C., we decided our adventure merited a good, hearty meal, so we treated ourselves to the Cheesecake Factory out near where we go to church.

It was a delightful meal indeed.
Now we rest safely back in our home here in Washington, D.C. I believe our extensive travels today were enough to throw the man off our tracks, so I no longer feel concerned for our safety. Tomorrow I shall go to church in peace.


*Although occasionally (perhaps even rarely) I believe in leaving things unexplained, in this case I thought it best not to worry people. Last night I watched the movie State of Play. In the opening scene two people are shot, one killed. The bridge under which they were shot was literally right outside the doors of the movie theater I was in, just minutes from where I live. So, do not fear, my neighborhood is quite safe, although seeing someone get shot in it in a movie even was slightly unsettling.

Fingerprints and Memories are Two Things Uniquely My Own

Those of you who have known me for a while may remember the time I was tricked into believing I was stealing a car. Or the time I stole a riverboat. Now, I have taken it all one step further. I stole a car. As a result, I had to go to the police station here in Washington, D.C. and be fingerprinted. My hands got all inky, but it was otherwise quite an adventure and very enjoyable!
In order to impress the policemen (who turned out to be friendly women), I had dressed up with a suit jacket and everything. When I got home, I didn't bother changing, so when a group of us went out that night I was still dressed up, while everyone else had changed into more casual clothes. We went down to the National Mall to look at a bunch of monuments. Fortunately for all of them, I recently purchased a guide book for D.C., recommended by my good friend Sydney, which I read before we arrived. I kept spouting off facts about all the monuments that no one else knew (such as that the Vietnam War Memorial was designed by 21-year-old Yale student Maya Lin as a class project, or that in the 1830s the Know-Nothing party stormed the partially-built Washington Monument in outrage at the Pope having donated a block of marble and took it over, leaving it unfinished for some thirty or forty years). Everyone seemed to like it, so I kept going. Eventually we ended up over near the Washington Monument, with the entire group huddled around me as I expounded the story of the Know-Nothing takeover. We realized suddenly that because of my much more formal dress, most passers-by probably thought I was an official tour guide. And thus the idea of having me pose as a tour guide was born! I will certainly let you know when we do it, but we are currently planning on me taking us on a tour of the monuments at the Mall to see how many random people we can collect thinking I am a real tour guide. This will be exciting.
In the afternoon on Friday I went with some others to the Library of Congress. There, I found myself severely missing my wonderful friend and museum buddy, Davielle Durfy, as I indeed went so much more slowly than everyone else that they ended up leaving me there and proceeding on to other activities without me. 'Twas a shame, indeed, that I have not found anyone here who puts up with (and in fact matches) my slow museum pace as well as she.
Furthermore, in closing, I have a bone to pick with swine flu, as it has canceled my mom's study abroad in Mexico this summer. I am currently offering a prize to one who can bring me swine flu's head on a platter; we are hereby mortal enemies, and anyone who can shoot swine flu down will become my eternal friend.