PB&Js and Peds

Something about Dr. D being on his pediatrics rotation has caused our culinary tastes to regress.  I'm not sure I can count how many meals have been made up of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and/or cereal this month... all I know is that my hands are perpetually sticky and our Jiff is running low.

Our friend Dr. S helped us step it up a notch more recently by providing us with some delicious home-baked sourdough bread.  There truly is nothing better in my opinion than pb&j on toasted sourdough.  It's my desert island food---you know, if you were stranded on a desert island and could only eat one thing for the rest of your life and miraculously there was an infinite supply of pb&j trees.  My other choice would be bean and cheese burritos.  Don't hate.

Our gastroregression (yeah, I just made that up, so what?) reached new infancy recently when Dr. D got the urge to forgo the customary Kashi in the cereal isle and opt for Peanut Butter Cap'n Crunch...

...which he proceeded to methodically add to his pb&j later that day.

Guys, I can vouch for this: it was awesome.

At War with Stuff

Pardon the blog silence, but we've just survived an apartment move.

There’s nothing like moving that can make you feel instantaneously at war with your prized and superfluous personal belongings---your "stuff."  There are times even, in the midst of exhaustion after hauling boxes hither and yon, that it becomes your "crap."

Thankfully this move allowed us to purge quite a bit of it via donations, but Dr. D and I have agreed to go on a stuff-buying diet regardless.  I've also vowed to myself that I'm only allowed to buy a new item if I'm willing to donate one of my other possessions.  I don't want to end up like the creepy garbage lady from the Labyrinth.

I guess we don't even really have that much stuff compared to other people our age, since we own virtually no furniture (a perk of my profession, which provides us with free furnished living).  But something about having to schlep all of our combined stuff without a moving company really it put it into perspective: no one should own this many band t-shirts.

You'll all be happy to know that we managed to remember to pack J-dog, although I think there were times when he was truly concerned he may not make the cut.

Blog Birthday

Well, here we are.  Today marks the one year anniversary of my first post and the beginning of a written representation of Dr. D and me, a story that's roughly 15 years old.

Where on earth has the time gone?

Somewhere amidst the long hours, the core rotations (both here and away), the tragedies, the ridiculous dog tricks, the papers, the disturbing medical knowledge, the laughter, the loving... somehow another year is behind us, and another year is in front of us.

Boy, what a blockbuster year it's shaping up to be.  And we're so glad to have you be a part of it.

MM 101, Lesson 6: On the Defensive

It's about time for another lesson in medical matrimony, don't you think?

Picture this: You are the partner of a medical student, and you are completely mad about this person.  They are pretty much the greatest thing since Mickey Mouse key chains (or some other really awesome thing---I just say the key chain thing because at the time I met Dr. D when I was 10, there was really nothing greater than any sort of Disney kitsch that I could affix to my backpack).  You are supportive of their career choice 100% and think they are seriously going to change the world, one patient at a time.  It so happens that you are also fairly confident that you will make your own equally important, unique mark in the world.  You just won't be doing it with a ", MD" behind your name.

You're meeting someone at work for the first time.  Or maybe you're at dinner with a new group of people.  Or at a bar.  Or making small-talk in line at the grocery store.

{small talk ensues}

You: "Blah blah blah [insert partner's name off-handedly here] blah blah."

Fairly uninterested, but socially polite person you've just met: "Hmm, really?  That's great.  What does [partner's name] do?"

You: "Oh, he's in medical school.  But anyway, blah blah bl---"

Now surprisingly interested, kind of judgey person you've still only just met: "---Oooh, a doctor, huh?  Well that must be nice..."

So here's our next lesson in medical matrimony: prepare to periodically go on the defensive when it comes to your partner's chosen career and your presumed motives for loving them.

Unfortunately I've had some variation of the above conversation on multiple occasions.  I'm never really sure at first what makes me more indignant: the insinuation that Dr. D is only studying to be a doctor because he wants to line his pockets and use Benjamins as toilet paper, or that I've only chosen to be with him because I'm some kind of talentless, motivation-less gold digger who's hoping to rake in some cash so I can buy myself butt-loads of diamonds/cucumber facials/catty friends.

Pardon me, is my bitterness showing?

Truth is, I loved Dr. D even back when he thought he'd probably go to film school.  Truth is, the only butt-load of anything we're going to have for a while is debt, but we're both completely okay with that because we can live modestly.  Truth is, I happen to be in love with a fantastic man, but I am a strong and independent woman and there isn't much that can piss me off more than implying that I'd be lost without his financial support.  Truth is, it's the Mrs. who is currently bringing home the bacon, and glad to be doing it.  And I think he's glad, too.

Can I get an Amen?

I'll take it!

A little over a month ago, I was very kindly given a blogging award.  This was awesome for two reasons: (1) It is my very first award ever for writing, and I truly had no idea this sort of thing existed so I was quite surprised, and (2) It came from a reader who I don't know personally, which was exhilarating because it means that I have a bigger audience than I ever thought I would.  How lovely!

So first, I would just like to thank the gracious Medical Student's Wife for reading and liking what she saw enough to award it.  You should check out her blog, particularly if you are one of my readers who is a partner of the medically-inclined.  She's a teacher, her husband has just graduated from med school (congratulations!), and they are currently in the process of moving so he can begin his intern year.  I am both jealous of and anxious for them!

Here's the award:

How flattering is that?

And here's what I've been asked to do:

• Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to them.  Donezo.
• Tell seven things about yourself.  Fixin' to.
• Contact and award 15 recently discovered new bloggers.  Working on it.

So without further delay, here are my seven things, which took an embarrassing amount of time to actually come up with, mostly due to thing #1:

1. I’m not all that good at talking about myself (which you’ll find hard to believe by the end of this post, I’d imagine).
2. For anyone who was incredibly concerned that I may have gone through life so far being a “waste of height” (a phrase that really gets my goat, by the way... like I consciously chose my stature and am being incredibly stingy with it), you might be interested to know that I played basketball for many years, and was a scholarship athlete in college until I realized I’d be much happier if I wasn't. {Side note: where does the saying “gets my goat” even come from?  Was goat thievery at one point a rampant issue?}
3. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m what I like to consider a “situational extrovert,” meaning I am inclined to introversion but can be coaxed into social situations in which I somehow manage spurts of outgoingness.  I’m good for some witty banter, I can easily speak in front of large groups of people, and I even put myself into performance situations (singing, acting, lecturing, etc.), but believe me, I need recharging afterward.  This is not to say that if I had my way I’d be a complete shut-in; I’m just an internal processor who can sometimes be overwhelmed by too much social activity and not enough time to reflect.
4. If people-watching were a career, I’d be a professional.  When we go out to eat, Dr. D has to purposely sit in the seat that has the best view of people and their comings and goings, otherwise I get terribly distracted.   I get sucked into strangers’ conversations, albeit discreetly.  I make up life stories about them in my head.  If I can’t hear them, I imagine what their conversations are about.  I concoct plot lines and imagine what they’re going to do once they leave.  It’s awful(ly entertaining).
5. I’m 25 and have finally reached the point where I have to actually stop and think when someone asks me, “How old are you?”  When I was a kid and my mom used to struggle to recall her age, I remember thinking it was the silliest thing ever.  How could anyone not know their own age?  But for some reason now I perpetually want to answer that I’m 22.  It must have been a defining year for me.  I suppose getting engaged, married, moving across the country, and beginning a new career all in the same year is pretty significant...
6. I can recite and sing the entire musical episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, as well as quote anything James Marsters’ character (Spike) said throughout the entirety of its 7 seasons.
7. My biggest artistic outlets are writing and photography.  I truly hope to one day have my own photography business and spend my days capturing beautiful things through pictures and words.

Well there you have it.  Chew on that for a while, and I'll go recharge.

To: Tree, From: Apple

 {Mom's fruit and veggie collection of salt & pepper shakers}

I can't think of a better way to un-ground myself after the successful completion of my marathon paper than with a post about the incredible woman who brought me in to this world.

Seriously, incredible.  She gave birth to me, the first child, naturally and free from pain medications while meditating on a picture of the Grand Teton Mountains.

I mean... wow.  Good find, Dad.

To celebrate you on this day, Mom, I'd like to highlight some of my favorite things about you:

• Your giggle, be it absentmindedly when you're not sure what else to do, or uncontrollable (which is often the case when Dr. D is around and in typical witty form).
• Your artistic skill, from setting a decadently decorated dinner table to drawing construction plans for a room revolving entirely around an antique pane of stained glass.
• The way you've always fostered my artistic side, and that I'm able to credit my confidence in those abilities mostly to the fact that I know it runs in my genes.
• Your occasional absent-mindedness, which has led to many laughing fits in their aftermath.
• How you're such a good sport when Dad, Broseph, and I tease you.
• The way you pinch your bottom lip with your thumb and index finger when you're thinking hard about what to do.
• The way you manage to make any place where you are feel like a home.
• How you've modeling for me the delicate balance between independence and loving devotion to a spouse.

I'm not particularly fond of saying "I could go on forever..." mostly because that's usually a cop-out and in every way a gross exaggeration of time.  Suffice it to say there's plenty more I could list, but I'll save it for a less public forum.  Just know that you're a huge part (at least half, I'd say) of the person I am today, and I am so thankful for you.  I love you.

Happy Mothers Day.

I'm grounded.

I've never been grounded in my life (thanks, Mom & Dad!), mostly due to the fact that I was a pretty good kid.  I mean, my biggest act of rebellion in my teen years was the first (and last) day that I ditched school with Dr. D when we were 16... to go see the second Harry Potter movie in theaters.

Look out, Lindsay Lohan.

But today, I'm grounding myself from my blog until Monday, when hopefully this:

...will magically become a 20 page paper.  Wish me luck.

Accio motivation!

Weekend Wisdom

Things I learned this weekend:

• Illinois weather likes to play me for a fool.  It's mocking me with its stupid, non-corporeal face.  Two days ago, I tucked away most of my sweaters and relished the 70 degree weather in my holey jeans, and now?  It's pouring.  And freezing.

• One of Dr. D's fellow classmates is the next Bob Ross.  For serious.  And he's giving us this painting!

• I think maybe Dr. D doesn't think billiard chalk to the nipple is as entertaining as the rest of us do. 

 

• My name could have been so much more awesome.

I also learned that my friends like to read my blog in secret, avoiding the comment form at all costs, only to reference it off-handedly over weekend pizza.  Creepers.

Hope you all had an equally enlightening weekend!