There'snow Place Like Home

...and nothing better than having the ability to build a GIANT SNOWMAN.

Hard at work

You look familiar...

A well-built snowman

May I Offer a Suggestion?

Dear TSA,

I want you to know that I appreciate what you do. Really, I do. Some people may whine and moan about 3-oz liquids, shoe removal, and the fact that the $4 bottle of water that you just bought at the only airport shop outside of the secure area cannot come with you through security, but I understand. It's to protect us. Minor annoyances, once you look at the big picture.

I also appreciate the diligence you employ when scanning the loads of baggage that we've dumped mercilessly into your hands. Most of us are just crossing our fingers that our luggage will follow us all the way to our destination, but you have to take that extra step of actually figuring out if there's anything threatening within the mess. Not an easy job, considering how confusing those x-rays can look.

Now, I understand that x-rays can only be so good; sometimes it's necessary to physically search the bag with your own hands. Sometimes it's because you think there might be something suspicious, but other times it's simply a random search. I'm beginning to wonder, however, just how random the selection process is. In the past two years, every time I have checked bags, I've received one of your nifty little "Notice of Baggage Inspection" pamphlets as a surprise gift waiting for me when I open my bag after finishing my travels.

It doesn't bother me. Why should it? Usually the only differences between before and after inspection are the placement of the zippers and the inspection notice. Harmless. I would, however, like to offer you a bit of advice. I have gotten packing down to an art -- an art. No, not intentionally, and I don't even like packing, not one bit. Problem is, I have a tendency to overpack. If you could see the pile on my floor of the stuff that I want to take with me on my trip, you'd laugh; there's no way it will all fit in your bag!, you would say. But oh, I have gotten so good at it. Roll this sweater here, stuff these socks into those boots, allow the center to be just a bit higher than the sides because of the physics of the zipper, and then -- and here's the trick -- sit on it. Sit down hard, squeeze down the sides, struggle and pull and sweat and yank until the zippers finally meet. It's a wrestling match, woman versus luggage. I always win, but not without a good fight.

I have a feeling you don't want to go through this trouble. If you were actually inspecting the contents of my bag by hand, I would guess that the contents would inevitably be shifted, to a certain extent. But they never are. I have a feeling that once you open it up and look inside, you immediately recognize that it's not worth the effort, stick in one of your little pamphlets, and then struggle and pull and sweat and yank until the zippers finally meet again. So here's my advice: Just say no. Don't do it. Save yourself the physical and mental exhaustion that are my luggage.

I'm only telling you this because I think you're genuinely nice people who are doing us all a big favor by keeping us safe. Now I'm trying to reciprocate that favor. Next time you see one of my bags passing through, save yourself the headache. Or, if you choose to go ahead and open it anyway, just remember that it's an art. Don't beat yourself up too badly if it takes a team of five to tame and subdue those stubborn zippers.

Yours Truly,
Michelle

p.s. I would also appreciate it if, in the future, you didn't steal my hairspray. Thanks.

NYC, Christmas-Style, Take 2

After getting through exams, my classmates and I experienced a collective puzzlement: "What do we do now?" The answer, as always, was to go into the city. Here are a few more pictures of holiday-style NYC, including the blanket of snow that made the city look like a postcard.

Busy travelers at Grand Central Station

On Saturday afternoon, the snow began to fall as we shopped in SoHo.

The Macy's window displays were like museum exhibits.

The city somehow seemed calmer after the snowfall, as if everyone just wanted to take some time to look around and enjoy themselves instead of the usual rush.

Who knew that New York could be so peaceful?

NYC, Christmas-Style, Take 1

Emily visited last weekend, which provided an excellent excuse to ditch studying and hang out in Manhattan. I'm currently panicking about the upcoming exams along with everyone else, so further exploring of Christmastime Manhattan will have to wait until next weekend, but here are the highlights from last week:

We took the Staten Island Ferry as a great (free) way to see the Statue of Liberty while avoiding being in the cold rain as much as possible.

Not the nicest day, but always an impressive sight

Manhattan loomed mysteriously in the distance.

A trip to Macy's at Christmastime is a must...

...and apparently the rest of the city thought so, too.

No trip to New York is complete without a visit to Rockefeller Center.

Angels guarded the pathway to the tree.

Even though we were soaked and cold from our endless trekking through the city, we were excited to see the giant Christmas tree!

Typical science nerdiness: A giant tree/shrub/wreath (?) shaped like a dinosaur, outside of the Museum of Natural History

Bring on the exams!

Italian Surprise!

Another comparison of this year to last: December 8, Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Last year, it was on a Monday, which happened to be my busiest day of classes every week. With the exception of chapel time and a brief hour between anatomy lab and band, I had no free time from 6:45 a.m. until after the Norseman hayride (and dinner and bonfire). Masses at St. Dominic were all during my classes and activities, so a contingent of us Norseman Catholics discovered that our only option was to leave the hayride early to go to Annunciation (how appropriate!), a small church a few miles outside of Northfield. Normally there would be nothing wrong with this; I had been to Annunciation before and didn't mind driving there. Last year, however, there was a snowstorm on December 8. By the time we left the hayride, the gravel roads back to Olaf were slippery under 2-3 inches. After picking up more churchgoers at St. Olaf, for a total of 8 (yes, 8!) of us in my tiny Saturn, I drove slooooowwwwwllyyyyyy through the quickly accumulating snow to the little church on the hill. Mass was warm and beautiful, and you could feel the little-kid excitement throughout the congregation because of the snow. As we left church, the snow was still falling quietly, peacefully -- and had deposited several inches on the vehicles. There was an attitude of congeniality despite the difficult driving conditions, and everyone helped each other clear the white powder from the cars. Everything about it -- the feast day, the people, the church, the weather -- was beautiful.

This year on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, I followed the Minnesota blizzard with interest, mostly because I wanted to be there myself. There's something about extreme weather that's exciting to me. Here in the Bronx, though, it was a sunny, warm day (although most of my classmates would skewer me for saying 40 degrees is warm). I decided to go to Mass at St. Clare, and I assumed the schedule would be the same as a typical weekday schedule, with Mass at both 7:00 and 8:00 a.m. I also assumed that, with the typical 15-minute daily Masses, I'd be able to make it to my 8:45 class on time. My assumptions were only marginally correct. I arrived at 7:55, heard the priest greet an old couple with a quiet, "Buon giorno," and thought nothing of it. We are, after all, in a very Italian neighborhood. Turns out I should have thought something of it. Since it was a feast day, the church was on its Sunday schedule, in which the 8:00 Mass is in Italian. And there was music. Music in Italian. After an initial moment of confusion, I realized what was happening, and then I started beaming. Mass in Italian! It was wonderful. I ended up being 10 minutes late for lecture, but it doesn't matter. It was a beautiful morning, with a joyous service, a sunny walk, and an Italian surprise.

Opinions

Flashback to September 24, 2008. After being so sick that I passed out on the airplane the night before, I made it to my Einstein interview in the morning, shaky and lightheaded from illness and lack of food but less nervous than I thought I would have been, probably because I was too busy thinking about not passing out again. I sat down in the second floor conference room with Dr. Dannis, who paged through my application, squinted, looked up at me and said, "You're from Minnesota. What the hell are you doing here?" I can't think of a less expected opening question for an interview, much less a medical school interview, much less my first medical school interview. Despite my surprise, I apparently answered this and all of the remaining questions satisfactorily, because here I sit in my apartment in the student housing at Einstein, procrastinating from my anatomy studying.

Fast forward to this afternoon. I had an appointment with Dr. Wollowitz, an orthopedist. He recognized my address as the Einstein student housing and asked what year I am. I told him that I'm a first year, and that we're gearing up for our anatomy final in a week. He made a disapproving grunt and said that anatomy is "useless; they make you remember all those useless pancreaticoduodenal arteries and the like." I laughed and said that all those arteries were exactly what I was having trouble with. I suppose you don't need to know which arteries supply the stomach when your primary concern is bones. Then he asked where I'm from. I told him Rochester, Minnesota, after which he asked, "What the hell are you doing here?" This time, I can't say I was expecting it, and I can't say I wasn't surprised, but I wasn't quite as shocked as last time.

What is it with these New Yorkers? I thought they were proud to death of their city, and that any location not touching an ocean was too worthless to even be able to recognize on a map. Maybe it's the Bronx. Maybe it's self-preservation. Maybe they just think all of us Midwesterners are sheltered, that we shudder at the thought of lights and crowds and traffic and endless motion. To them, the Midwest is a blob of homogeneity; how can we even break out of our shell? Maybe, though, I'm not giving them enough credit. Maybe they recognize the virtues of honest Midwest living and, despite their love of their city, simply cannot understand how we could adapt to a place like this. Either way, they sure have a funny way of showing it!

Vaccinated!

Every Monday, I find more reasons to love my ICM site. My preceptor is simply fantastic, and I'm getting extremely comfortable interviewing patients. Last time, I interviewed two patients in front of Dr. Katz -- I got their whole medical histories, and afterward, Dr. Katz gave me his input. It went very well. This week, he briefly introduced me to two different patients and then left for a few minutes, leaving it up to me to find out the chief complaint and history of present illness. When he came back, I presented the information to him in front of the patient, and then he completed the exam. It was great. Clearly, the school part of ICM has been ideal.

On top of that, Dr. Katz is awesome as a preceptor. During exams, he explains what he's doing and sometimes even does a little bit extra -- he'll point out dermatological points of interest, or he'll teach me about percussing to find the outline of the liver, or he'll help me find a popliteal pulse. He also shows me the clues he uses to make his diagnosis -- a red throat, an EKG printout, nystagmus, lung sounds, heart sounds. In between patients, if there happens to be downtime, he teaches me about conditions of recent patients he's seen -- endocrine pathways, abnormal bloodwork, how to read an EKG. Or he teaches me the useful little things that I'll gradually pick up along the way but will probably not learn in medical school -- prescription abbreviations (most of which come from Latin, thank goodness), bizarre/un-PC acronyms, how to fill out a death certificate, how to decipher insurance codes. Clearly, I have been blessed with an amazingly friendly, intelligent, sensitive, interested preceptor.

And even after all of that, there is yet another reason to love him. Last week, the lines for the H1N1 vaccine at Einstein were out the door. It was not worth the wait. I knew that my clinical site had the vaccine, so I planned to ask if I could make an appointment or do whatever it is they needed me to do to just get vaccinated there. Today, during some downtime, I brought it up to Dr. Katz. He was surprised I hadn't gotten one yet and asked if I wanted to get one right then. Sure! It was even free, because of something about the government buying it all up and distributing it or something like that. All I had to do was give my name, birthday, and address, because apparently the government likes to keep track of these things. We went in one of the back offices, and right then and there, Dr. Katz gave me the nasal H1N1 vaccine. I almost couldn't keep myself from laughing, it seemed so bizarre. But there it is: I am now vaccinated, thanks to my totally rock-solid preceptor. I love Mondays.

How to Make Friends

Answer: Make too many cookies for your own good (i.e. 8 dozen), and give away all but a half-dozen of them.

Piano: Some Assembly Required

I've been seriously deprived of music in the past 3 months. The ukulele has been great, but it doesn't quite cut it when you're used to having a piano around. In a drastic move to provide myself with even more ability to procrastinate, I bought a piano. Actually, it's a keyboard (because honestly, I don't think my roommates would enjoy me banging away on a real-life piano), but it's as close in look and feel to a real piano as a keyboard can be, as far as I'm concerned. Dealing with Fed-Ex was, shall we say, interesting, but in the end, I ended up with a very large, very heavy box in my apartment just under a week after purchasing the keyboard in Manhattan.

It's a good thing I had to build all of my furniture, because otherwise I might have freaked out when I realized that I actually had to put together the keyboard with nuts, bolts, screws, and even a knob on the pedals.

With the exception of the part with the actual keys (which was fantastically heavy and bulky and impossible to move on my own without serious risk to a very expensive investment), I was able to build the rest of the keyboard myself. Cat graciously visited the apartment and helped me lift the keys onto the base. Voila! I now have a keyboard! Let the procrastination begin!

And the decoration. The keyboard is the perfect place for a mini Christmas tree!

Lefse

About a week ago, Cat and I ventured into the city to participate in that great Scandinavian tradition that Ole alums do oh-so-well: making lefse.

Cat viciously guards the spatula that will save our lefse from the evil, lefse-sucking wooden board.

Ruth, the lefse expert, gives us all a lesson. Not too thick, not too thin, not too hot, not too cool, not too much flour, not too sticky...etc.

Cat vies for the "Most Creative Lefse" prize with her spectacular lion's head (she's even getting into the St. Olaf spirit!)

The contest entries. Notice the gigantic lefse front and center: that would be mine. Cat's lion is to the right. Together, they won us a sushi pen.

The professional judges

Afterward, we feasted. It was delicious.

Enthusiasm on the Job

"Everything's cool when you're a first-year medical student," said Dr. Katz as he accompanied me to visit the orthopedist 3 floors above the internal medicine office. Last week, Dr. Katz and I saw a patient who was having terrible pain in her foot because she had to step quickly to the side to avoid running into her dog. For real. Because he thought it would be an interesting learning experience for me, Dr. Katz suggested I go with her to the orthopedist (in the same building) to see them do the x-rays and casting (if necessary). Well, I went with the patient, but unfortunately, I had to leave for the day before she had even gotten an x-ray. Today I went to the office early so that Dr. Katz and I could go up and see the x-rays -- my first experience of continuity of care, I suppose. Indeed, the patient had broken her fifth metatarsal in a place that doesn't receive much blood flow, so she needed a leg cast that will be on for 4-6 weeks. The orthopedist and Dr. Katz were both eager to explain how those types of breaks normally happen, what the different types of treatments are for different types of foot fractures, etc. So now, according to them, I'm an expert on foot fractures.

Those two weren't the only eager doctors today, either. A few weeks ago, Dr. Weisholtz wanted me to feel a large thyroid. Today, just after Dr. Katz had observed me interview 2 different patients, Dr. Kocher came into the common area and asked, "Where's the medical student? I want to show her something." I waved and followed him into his patient's room. She had chronic lymphedema (swelling) in her left arm, which was easy to see when comparing the arms. But there was something else that Dr. Kocher was even more excited about. He asked the patient to show me her palms. Then he asked me, "What is different about her palms compared to mine? Or yours?" I looked at my own hands and then the patient's, and I could see that hers were quite yellow. I said as much to Dr. Kocher, and he said, "Yes, exactly. But look at her eyes. They're nice and white, so you know it's not jaundice. Want to know what it is? It's carotenemia!" The woman explained that she had been drinking carrot juice -- LOTS of carrot juice. All of the beta carotene had colored her skin yellow.

Yes, Dr. Katz is right -- everything's cool when you're a first-year medical student.

My Tub Overfloweth

...with the mold-backed tiles that decided they no longer wanted to stick to the wall. And with the soap dish, which decided to take a bit of the wall with it. I can now see fiberglass. This is disturbing. My solution is to close the shower curtain and not think about it until housing sends maintenance to fix it.

Mold, mold, go away.

Fall in the Big City

The pictures will do the talking.

Peaceful street near the Church of Notre Dame

Is this really the city? North woods of Central Park

Conservatory Garden in Central Park

The ravine

I cannot get over how peaceful the city can feel. A block away, people rush about their business, hailing cabs, boarding buses, and running to catch subways. Here, none of that is present.

Beautiful trees of Central Park from the top of Rockefeller Center

From the Top of the Rock, the Empire State Building and a minuscule Statue of Liberty

Skating at the Rockefeller Center? Yes, it started a month ago. Seems a bit anachronistic in the 70-degree weather.

Fishermen at Orchard Beach (in the Bronx!)

Orchard Beach provided a slightly more "wild" side of nature than Central Park

The view from the top of my apartment building: The beautiful trees and homes of Morris Park and the skyline of the big city

I Can't Help It; I Live Here!

It's been a busy few weeks, especially with moving to a new apartment, taking our second set of exams, finding time to appreciate the fall colors, beginning Anatomy, celebrating Halloween, and watching the World Series. As far as the first two go, it's exactly as it sounds: I moved from the 7th floor of one building to the 12th floor of another, which took more than a full weekend when combined with repainting the entire room. (I have to say, I think it turned out very well -- Starless Night, Mocha, and Clean Linen look quite nice together on my walls.) The exams were in Histology and Immunology, so I am now done with both classes. We have now begun Anatomy, which is really exciting because it's the class that everyone thinks of as the first "real" experience in medical school. We're all assigned to groups of 4-5 per cadaver, and I've already (with my lab partners) gotten to dissect the back muscles of our cadaver. Unreal.

After exams, many of us headed into the city for a night out. In the afternoon, we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge.

It's also been an exciting time for New Yorkers, and especially for the Bronx, because of the World Series. There's no way I could have ever gotten tickets for a game (or even have wanted to spend that much), but it's been even better than I could have imagined getting caught up in the excitement of it all. Everywhere I go, I see Yankees hats, Yankees t-shirts, Yankees sweatshirts...and all talk is about the Yankees. Yes, I realize that I'm obligated to hate the Yankees. Normally I would, especially when the Twins are involved. But now -- with the World Series -- and living in New York -- I can't help it. I want them to win. How in the world could I not cheer for them? Plus, in my defense, it's almost a matter of safety. For a few of the games, I've joined a friend from school at a pub in the city. The first time I was there, one of his friends asked me (loudly) if I was a Yankees fan. Immediately, everyone surrounding me became silent, turning their heads to hear the critical answer. I laughed nervously and said, "I'm cheering for them tonight." It was a good enough answer, apparently, because the people at the bar quickly got back to their business of cheering loudly, cursing the Phillies, and clanging a bell every time the Yankees scored.

The Empire State Building dresses up for Halloween.

Halloween was also this past weekend. I didn't go to the parade, but I was in the city, and it was a sight to see. The normally serious, get-down-to-business New York mob exchanged its usual no-nonsense sense of fashion for giddy, brightly colored costumes throughout all of Saturday. At Einstein, costumes were equally as creative. I'll finish this post with a few samples:

Robin and Batman felt totally comfortable around the paparazzi...

The Jonas Brothers found time to say hi to their fans...

...and everyone waited impatiently for the bus.

Thyroid

Here is a reason why I love ICM. Before I give the reason, let me explain that ICM stands for Introduction to Clinical Medicine, a 6-month-long course in which each of us is paired with a physician preceptor/mentor. Throughout the next 6 months, we will spend almost every Monday afternoon with our preceptors, learning how to interview patients by actually interviewing them. I've been fortunate enough to be paired with Dr. Katz, an internal medicine physician in a small practice in Englewood, NJ. (Yes, I drive to New Jersey every Monday.) He, along with the other physicians in the office, is friendly, energetic, and interested in making Monday afternoons a great learning experience for me. Plus, he is a graduate of Einstein, so he's always eager to chat about classes, instructors, housing, the Bronx...

So here is why I love ICM. This afternoon, between the first and second patient appointments, Dr. Katz and I were in the central common area, where he was jotting down a few notes from the previous patient as well as explaining to me what the patient's different medicines were for. One of the other doctors waltzed over, looked down at me and asked, "You wanna feel a really big thyroid?" I raised my eyebrows, shrugged, smiled and said, "Sure!" Less than a minute later, I was walking into the exam room, where sure enough, there was a woman suffering from hyperthyroidism; she will soon have surgery to remove it. She had no objections to me using her as a learning experience (although I have a sneaky suspicion that most patients don't realize I'm only 2 months into medical school -- the white coat is tricky like that), so I was able to gently press on her throat, feeling around the edges of the butterfly-shaped organ.

After I thanked her, I left, and the rest of the afternoon was "normal": I interviewed a patient with a painkiller addiction, helped dress a diabetic patient's leg sores, listened to a heart murmur, and studied chest X-rays. I'm learning so much every Monday, not the least of which is the fact that I picked the right career. All the studying and reading and classwork may often be tedious, but the Monday experiences are a good reminder of what I'm really here to do. I love science, and I'll learn what I need to learn to practice great medicine. But in the end, medicine is about people, and that's that.

May I Just Say...

...that the Fordham church is beautiful? As is the rest of the campus. Fordham University's Rose Hill campus is only 2 miles down the road from Einstein, so I spent the last two weekends at their library for studying. The campus reminds me so much of St. Olaf -- stately buildings, majestic trees, and the "college" feel which I've found helps me be more productive in my studying. Plus, the library is huge and relatively new, so it actually feels fun to go study (shocking). Also, it's a Catholic university, so I was able to go to Mass when I went there to study.

The center painting indoors depicts all of the patron saints of the subjects that Fordham offers for study. What a great idea!

I'm looking forward to seeing the campus over the next few weeks as the trees begin to turn!

Chewables

I think my vitamins are out to get me, for two reasons:

1) Every single day for the past week, out of pure random chance, I have gotten a purple one. As far as vitamin flavors go, purple is my least favorite. That's all fine, I know I have to take all the purple ones eventually, but seven straight days??

They may look cute and harmless, but they may have mischievous intentions...

2) I've only been taking these vitamins for two weeks, but look at me now. I'm sick with a sore throat. I thought these were supposed to make me resist disease and stay healthy. Way to do your job, vitamins.

The Art of Being an Outsider

What a game. After being targeted (but amused) by my many Yankee-fan classmates, I was able to connect with two other classmates who were interested in going to the Friday night Twins vs. Yankees game here in the Bronx. The price was steep, but it was worth it. As Eman (fellow Minnesotan and Twins fan), David (Yankees fan from Manhattan), and I climbed onto the bus to begin our trip to the stadium, the banter had already started. We were stared down as we moved from the bus to the subway. Once aboard the subway, we were surrounded by an intimidating sea of navy blue and white; as the train filled up, a Yankees fan started telling us that Joe Mauer would be wearing pinstripes in two years. I've heard that talk before from classmates, and Eman and I always say that there's no way he'd desert his beloved Minnesota, but this fan was insistent. The funniest part was that this young Yankees fan could have been no older than 10 years old.

As soon as we got to the stadium, it was mayhem. There was a constant stream of people arriving from all parts of the city, all wearing navy blue and white. We heard all about how the "Twins suck!" and that the "Yankees will sweep 'em!" One man had even brought a broom to demonstrate his point. Surprisingly, we found a group of Minnesota fans right outside of the stadium! After exchanging hi-fives, we were approached by a cameraman and were interviewed as a group since we stuck out so much. He asked where we had come from, and when I said that we (Eman and I) live in the Bronx, his eyes widened as he repeated in shock, "The BRONX?!" He had never heard such blasphemy before, a Bronxite rooting for the enemy.

Yes, we live in the Bronx! And yes, we're rooting for the Twins!

Our seats were great, as far as I'm concerned. We were in section 422, row 6, slightly to the left of home. The only part of the field we couldn't see was foul territory in the deep left -- which turned out to be a source of controversy late in the game. Luckily, the rain that had been predicted held off until after the game, and it was an absolutely beautiful night -- high 60s, little wind, and an electric atmosphere.

Getting ready for the big game, in a big, brand-new stadium

As for the game, we could not have asked for a better time. In sports movies, there's always a bit of comic relief provided by hecklers, and it seems those hecklers always have New York accents. Well, I felt as if I were in a movie. Coming from behind us were shouts like, "Who taught ya how ta pitch?" and other not-so-savory comments that made the game even more entertaining. Also, between innings, shots of the crowd were shown on the big screen: there were shots of "normal people" interspersed with celebrities who had shown up, like Donald Trump, Bill O'Reilly (both of whom were booed), Mike Bloomberg, and Reggie Jackson.

At this point, Mauer was up to bat, and the Twins were winning 3-1. Too bad they couldn't carry it to the end.

The game itself was incredibly tense and exciting. My voice is still not back to normal, two days later, from all the yelling I did. I couldn't believe it went to 11 innings; I definitely got my money's worth. As for the outcome, I still feel disappointed that the Twins couldn't pull through in the end, but the game itself was the best I could have hoped for, for sheer entertainment value. Also, the experience of being one out of eight Twins fans there (an exaggeration, but not by much...) was fun. Eman and I were amused by the hecklers and felt no shame (although possibly a bit threatened) in cheering loudly when things were going well for the Twins. This meant we couldn't get a clean picture, though:

Silly Yankees fans

All in all, it was an incredibly fun way to spend a Friday night. I'm looking forward to watching the Twins come back at the Metrodome tonight...

Better than Coincidence

Last Saturday, after my tiring but exciting day at ECHO (learning how to draw blood), I decided to go into Manhattan to do some shopping. Even the rain did not discourage me, and it soon stopped. I took it as a good sign. Before I left Einstein, I looked up churches near the area where I was going (Empire State Building area). There were two very close together, so I picked which one to go to based on the ease of finding Mass times online. I arrived around 5:00, perfect for the 5:15 Mass at St. Francis of Assisi. In I went.

Yet another church nestled between tall, shiny buildings. It's the kind of surprise that always makes me smile.

It's the best Mass I've been to so far in New York, I have to say. It felt like home. I'm not just saying that because it had the same name as my home church, or even because it happened to be the feast of St. Francis of Assisi (seemingly two coincidences which are at least interesting, if not more). It was also the feeling of community. The realness of the people. The thick New York accent of the lector. The soulful music shared by the whole congregation. The radiating warmth of genuineness. I felt at home there, even though it was only my first time there. I would like to go back.

The building itself was beautiful as well.

Later, I was also treated to my first nighttime view of the Empire State Building. I had not realized that they lit the tower in different colors each night until I read an article about a recent controversy: The tower had been lit in red one night to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the communist revolution in China. Obviously, not everyone was pleased about this, so there were protests and disgruntled New Yorkers. Anyway, the article also said that the tower is usually lit in white, but that different colors are used especially for holidays or other special celebrations. On Saturday night, don't ask me why, it was blue. I took a picture of the tower glowing in the nighttime mist...

...and then I went home.