Allow me to provide you with a window into our world...
Him: "Hey, do we have any pictures of me with my Snape haircut?"
(referring to a time in college when he had long straight hair, which he died black. BEFORE he had ever read Harry Potter...)
Me: "Of course. I've photographically chronicled all of your hairstyle evolutions for the past 11 years."
(that probably makes the top 10 list of things you wouldn't want to hear from your stalker...)
Him: "Right. Bummer."
Me: "I mean, how else am I going to dissuade our future children when they tell us they want to dye their hair purple? I'll just say, 'I don't care if all of your Wifflepods are doing it, look how well that kind of thing turned out for your father.'"
("Wifflepods" being my attempt at creating some futuristic slang version of "buddies")
Him: "Yeah, and then our kids will be like, 'Awww Mom, stop being such a galactic space bore!'"
Me: "...I'm glad we both still hold out hope that the future will be like The Jetsons."
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
MM 101, Lesson 5: Almost
My husband is a lot of things.
Witty, charming, handsome. Disciplined, motivated, intelligent. A force to be reckoned with in the kitchen. A converted dog person. A Mac person.
One thing Dr. D is not, however, is a doctor. Not yet, anyway.
That's right, my affinity for alliteration (see what I did there?) led me to create for him a pseudonym that he has yet to fully grow in to. But "Dr. D" just rolls off the computer screen so much easier than "Medical Student D." It's kind of like buying shoes for a baby---you might as well buy them a couple sizes too big, because you know they'll grow in to them eventually.
Dr. D is an almost-doctor. And having a partner in medical school has taught me that the concept of "almost" can be two very different things.
In the "not quite there yet" sense of the word, this is what "almost" looks like for us:
Witty, charming, handsome. Disciplined, motivated, intelligent. A force to be reckoned with in the kitchen. A converted dog person. A Mac person.
One thing Dr. D is not, however, is a doctor. Not yet, anyway.
That's right, my affinity for alliteration (see what I did there?) led me to create for him a pseudonym that he has yet to fully grow in to. But "Dr. D" just rolls off the computer screen so much easier than "Medical Student D." It's kind of like buying shoes for a baby---you might as well buy them a couple sizes too big, because you know they'll grow in to them eventually.
Dr. D is an almost-doctor. And having a partner in medical school has taught me that the concept of "almost" can be two very different things.
In the "not quite there yet" sense of the word, this is what "almost" looks like for us:
- Him: Knowing he has the knowledge and skills to do doctor-like things, but having to put up with being the bottom-feeder in the clinical pecking-order. For example, just the other night when we were out with some friends, we were introduced to someone who is a nurse at a local hospital. Upon finding out that Dr. D was a medical student, she wrinkled her nose and said, "We hate med students, no offense." None taken, I'm sure.
- Me: Living in a weird world of homemaker limbo (I'm gonna give you a second to realize that I'm not talking about the cruise-ship/party kind of limbo so you can shake away that mental image of a lady in an apron shimmying under a bar... okay, ready?) where I avoid home decorating and big-kid purchases like furniture because I know we'll be moving, so I might as well wait.
- Him: Getting cornered by family and friends at parties or during vacations, and being asked his "professional opinion" about a variety of ailments and maladies. Listening politely and sympathetically as people (over)share, and then watching faces fall and dodging eye-daggers when he replies with, "Yeah, you should definitely have that checked out by your primary care physician." {gulp drink, make b-line for finger food}
- Me: Doing things like whining "fiiiiiiiiiiix meeeeeee" at Dr. D when I'm sick, fantasizing about the scholarship fund that I want us to create when we eventually don't have to spend our entire income every month on this little ol' thing called living, entertaining the idea of starting a family someday (without hyperventilating), and... well, referring to my husband as "Dr. D."
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Love is spelled f-o-o-d.
There are only so many pieces of jewelry, watches, and chocolates molded into punny shapes (e.g. a "key to my heart") that can be purchased over the course of 11 Valentines Days before you start to run out of gift ideas. And truth be told, I have a track record for losing said jewelry.
Eventually, you just need to figure out the best, most thoughtful and non-repetitive way to show your partner you love them. Some unexpected way to touch their heart, but in a manner that you know they'll remember.
Enter: Meat Martinis.
Dr. D and I had decided that we'd save our Valentines celebrating for when we make our trip to the city this upcoming weekend. The inconvenience of V-Day falling on a Monday (and on a class night for me) was too much to attempt to brave the twitterpated crowds for a fancy dinner. I should have realized, though, that when we come to this kind of agreement, Dr. D rarely keeps his end of the bargain.
On Monday night, I came home from class and was greeted by the smell of bacon and a crazed poodle---driven mad by the smell, no doubt.
I found my loving husband in the kitchen, skillfully (and much more calmly and with less flesh-burning than I could ever muster) using the oven, stove, and toaster oven simultaneously to fix us a dinner of tapas. Fancy cheeses and accouterments, crostini, and bacon-wrapped asparagus.
And yes, slices of fillet mignon with caramelized onions in a balsamic reduction. Served in a martini glass. I'm sure you could not have found a happier and more in love person on the planet in that moment, as I double-fisted my meat martini and gigantic glass of homemade sangria.
I love this man.
Apologies to my vegan/veggie readers... I love you AND I love steak =/Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Viva
Oh, hello there Blah-g. Hi.
No, my Christmas present was not a one-way trip off the face of the planet, but it has been brought to my attention that it may have appeared that way to anyone who only keeps up with me through this blog. Oops.
The truth of the matter is that I got pretty wrapped up in living this past month and a half and got a bit overwhelmed with things to write about so… well, I didn’t. I just decided to go with the flow and see how things panned out (and any of those other cliché phrases for “take no active participation in the present because… *flap hands in helpless worry*”).
Turns out two things have happened in that time: (1) Things haven’t slowed down, and (2) I’ve filled my creative outlet time with facebook and trashy celebrity gossip.
Gross.
So I think perhaps it’s time to pick back up the cyber-chronicling---“e-emoting,” if you will---and stop telling myself that I’ll get to it when I have time. Because it seems that I’ve simultaneously got no time at all and all of the time in the world.
Here’s the quick n’ dirty version of what’s been going on in the lives of Mrs. & Mr. Dr. D over the past month or so. I may end up fleshing some of these things out in the (hopefully near) future:
I'm totes focusing
on this reading about hist---
Yuck. My dog just burped.
No, my Christmas present was not a one-way trip off the face of the planet, but it has been brought to my attention that it may have appeared that way to anyone who only keeps up with me through this blog. Oops.
The truth of the matter is that I got pretty wrapped up in living this past month and a half and got a bit overwhelmed with things to write about so… well, I didn’t. I just decided to go with the flow and see how things panned out (and any of those other cliché phrases for “take no active participation in the present because… *flap hands in helpless worry*”).
Turns out two things have happened in that time: (1) Things haven’t slowed down, and (2) I’ve filled my creative outlet time with facebook and trashy celebrity gossip.
Gross.
So I think perhaps it’s time to pick back up the cyber-chronicling---“e-emoting,” if you will---and stop telling myself that I’ll get to it when I have time. Because it seems that I’ve simultaneously got no time at all and all of the time in the world.
Here’s the quick n’ dirty version of what’s been going on in the lives of Mrs. & Mr. Dr. D over the past month or so. I may end up fleshing some of these things out in the (hopefully near) future:
- We had a wonderful holiday visit in California, and I said my goodbyes---or I guess more like "see you laters"---to my childhood home. Mom & Dad are currently in the process of moving to Texas, which is proving to be quite the adventure, and not necessarily in the more positive sense of the word. Yee-haw?
- Dr. D is kicking all sorts of butt (in the most healing, professional way possible) in his rotations, and is currently half way through his 12 week internal medicine rotation. He sees his own patients and works full days... can't we just call him a real doctor now?
- I'm taking 3 evening classes this semester on top of working full time, amassing upwards of 400 pages of reading each week. I'd be incredibly indignant if I were having to pay for such torture, but the classes are a free benefit of my job, sooo.... sucking it up now.
- We've taken to re-writing the words of popular rap and pop songs, as I'm sure many pet owners do, to somehow incorporate J-dog so that we can sing and dance with him around the house. It originally started with us singing "J-dog da poodle!" to the tune that Jason Derulo sings his own name (IN EVERY SONG! WHYYY?!), but has morphed into intricate reworkings of complex lyric genius. I'm talking moments of brilliance where we switch words like "dougie" to "doggy" and "slizzard" to "blizzard." I mean, wow.
- We survived snOMG/Snowmaggedon/Snowpocalypse. I can tell we've finally been acclimated to the experience of winter, because we were like "What? Only 7 inches? Where's the 20 they promised?" Apparently Chicago got it all... no fairsies.
- Dr. D and I braved the Cheesehead Chatter (another Dad-coined term) on a connecting flight out of Milwaukee this past weekend (Yes, we get it. Green Bay is in the Superbowl, dontcha know!) and flew to Las Vegas to surprise Dr. D's mom, Lil Momma, for her birthday. We got to wear disguises and everything! (and consequently almost got kicked out of the casino by the staff because our disguises were so obviously fake... heh)
I'm totes focusing
on this reading about hist---
Yuck. My dog just burped.
