Yes Day

Let me see if I still remember how to do this:

Wassaaaaaaaaap?!

(too 1999?)

Oh, hello there.

(too nonchalant?)

I've been a bad, bad blogger.

(a bit self-deprecating and trite, but that about sums it up.)

Hmm... how to explain this in a succinct way without boring you to tears? There's really no better way to describe the past five months---holy heck, five?!---other than to say the following:

• Applying to residencies is an arduous process for all parties involved.
• It's also a life-consuming process.
• It's also very personal.
• We made it through.

As much as I wanted to take to the blog and agonize about every significant and insignificant detail of the residency application and the interviews and the travel and the debt (oh my word, the debt), I just couldn't do it.  Not only to protect Dr. D's privacy, but for my own sanity.  And believe me, I think I saved you from some incredibly repetitious and anxiety-ridden prose.

What's that?  I could have blogged about other things, you say?  To be sure, that might have been an option.  But to omit such a large part of what was happening in our lives would have felt entirely inauthentic to me, and I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

But here I am, ready to take another crack at this blogging thing, as Dr. D and I find ourselves on the cusp of transition once again.  I know I would kick myself down the line if I didn't document this pivotal time, so here we go.

That, and I realized the internet has been entirely Jdog-deficient as of late.  So here's to that:

Okay, moving on.

Today, dear Internet, was "Yes or No Day" (hereafter referred to as YON Day---just roll with it) in the world of fourth year medical students.  Today was the day that fourth years were informed whether or not they have successfully matched into a residency program.  Mind you, this is not Match Day.  As you can see by the rapidly dwindling countdown, Match Day is this Friday.  YON Day (roll with it, I say!) is kind of like your mean older sibling who would find an awesome toy on the taller shelf in the store and then would say "WANNA SEE IT?!" as they held it juuuust out of your reach while evoking the technicality that you were, in actuality, seeing it and would lord it over you until Mom eventually made them hand it to you.

Match Day is Mom.  YON Day is your jerk of a sibling.

In the spirit of positivity, Dr. D and I had taken to calling YON Day just straight-up "Yes Day."  It worked, because he matched!  And also he's awesome, so that might have been a contributing factor.

So, on to Friday.  On to mimosas and elation and tears and bittersweetness and celebration.  On to our future.

What's Good

It has been an emotional couple of weeks for me and mine; it feels like we have been living the epitome of "when it rains, it pours" lately.  When times get tough, I find that it helps to remember the things that are good, and the things that are still making me smile.  Call me a hopeless optimist, but I'd like to think it keeps me sane and grounded.

So as I greet this weekend with open arms and heart, I hope to usher out the bad, the sad, and the stressful by appreciating some of the things that are just plain right.

Starting this afternoon, I will no longer be living the bachelorette life.  My partner in holey-jeans-wearing crime comes home to me today.  Hallelujah!

Speaking of that guy, I have him to thank for bringing me out of my baking slump.  Dr. D's favorite cookies (recipe here) are fresh and ready for the nom-age.

My coping mechanisms are typically either chocolate or new nail polish colors.  Have a guess at which one won out this week.

And of course, J-dog continues to be an endless source of entertainment.  Last night, Silence of the Lambs happened to be on television.  I chewed my nails through the whole thing and J-dog slept---until Precious the dog got yanked down into the pit in the ground by that conniving kidnappee.  After that, J-dog was glued to the television, no doubt to see to it that Precious got the proper veterinary attention after the whole ordeal.

...and: The Lion King is coming back to theaters in 3D.  I mean really.  That's just great.

Dear Dr. D

Dear Dr. D,

Remember a week ago when I was super giddy because you were almost in my 10 day forecast?  Well now you're in my 5 day forecast.  It says right here: "Saturday: a high of 75 degrees, low of 50, and 100% chance of soggy kisses."

I apologize in advance for crying tears of happiness all over your sweet face.  And for looking a hot mess when I do it.

Let's never do this again, deal?

Loves,
Your Mrs.

P.S.  It's a good thing you'll be back soon, because this guy is obviously getting WAY too comfortable in the alpha male role:

Friday Favorites

Today, I feel the need to celebrate one of life's greatest mysteries, and one of my favorite things in the whole world: a puppy's ability to make nearly anything downright adorable.

{Found on Pinterest, source unfortunately not provided... 

let me know if you know where he's from!}

See?  SEE?  This little dude is pissed, and yet you probably don't even care because he's fantastically furry and cute beyond comprehension.

I had the chance to puppy-sit for a friend a couple of weekends ago, and was reminded of how much I love every move puppies make---but also how much work they are.  The dying-of-cuteness moment of the weekend was probably when the little guy stopped in his tracks in the midst of a wrestling match with J-dog, sat down right in front of me, and proceeded to do this:




Is there anything better than puppy hiccups?  Few things, I'd venture.

Poodle Praise

When Dr. D is away, J-dog is promoted to man of the house.

I can't imagine the roller coaster of emotions this must create in his poor little poodle noggin.  On the one hand, I am certain that he misses Dr. D.  Usually around 6pm each night, J-dog will mosey over to the front door, gaze at it wistfully, and soon thereafter deflate into a puddle of pup on the floor... waiting for the customary "he's HOME!" ritual which, these days, doesn't come.  When Dr. D calls and I answer, J-dog can immediately tell that I'm talking to that tall and lanky guy he loves to play with, and he goes bonkers---running around the house, jumping on the couch to look out the window, and doing his darndest to vocally communicate to me that he'd really love nothing more than to jump on Dr. D and get his muzzle vigorously scratched.

However, J-dog has it extra good when Dr. D is away.  For starters, I tend to talk to him a lot more, and I'd like to think he appreciates the intellectual stimulation (for example, "do you think it's too warm to wear these pants?" and "Melanie really deserves to win So You Think You Can Dance---she's the best contemporary dancer we've seen in a while, don't you agree?").  Additionally, I try to come home during the lunch hour to give J-dog some extra attention and exercise, although he's used to this being his prime nap time and so usually I just end up eating on the couch next to a sleeping poodle.  Lastly, when Dr. D is gone I allow J-dog to do something he is normally not permitted to do: sleep in our bed.

Granted, this is a poor substitute for my husband.  But it's also ridiculously comforting.  Judge me all you want, but J-dog is a super cuddler.

During Dr. D's first away rotation, I was a little apprehensive to find out whether J-dog would be disgruntled to discover that all of these perks would come to a screeching halt when the tall/lanky/fun man returned.

It turns out he really didn't mind.  J-dog relinquished "man of the house" duties and resumed a posture of utmost adoration as soon as Dr. D walked through the door.  I know this current away rotation is twice as long, but I've got a theory that when Dr. D returns in a month, it'll be the same story.

Wish that day was today.

Blogging, FTL.

Fail blog.

Seriously, sorry guys.  I wish I had some epic excuse for my absence, like I won the lottery and we paid off all of Dr. D's loans and then flew to Africa and opened a health clinic.  Or I decided to surprise him and move out to CA with him for two months during his research rotation and we've been having such an amazing time that I haven't had a moment to spare for e-emoting.  Or I'm writing a book and am now contractually obligated not to utter another cyber word until my first draft is completed.

Alas, it is none of those things.  It's something much less sexy: work.

July and August are probably the two busiest months for my job, and next week it will all culminate in a fantastical, stressful whirlygig of chaos as 30,000+ students descend upon our currently serene campus.  I am simultaneously excited for and resistant to this time of year---mostly because I find that my summer to-do list is only a third of the way finished, and the beginning of this school year marks what will likely be my last year at this university.

Oh, and have I mentioned I'm EXHAUSTED?

So there you have it.  My pseudo-apologetic excuse for the prolonged blog silence, sprinkled with justifications and a dash of pity-party.

And here comes the ambiguous reassurance of a return to semi-regular posting: I've got a few posts in the works, so when things settle down at work after next week, you'll have some of those coming your way.

I'll leave you with this picture of J-dog as "Hairy Potter," because it's my blog and I do what I want.

Mmkay... brb. (ish).

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.

Home Stretch

\\\\\] \=

{What you see on the line above happens to be a guest post by J-dog. He saw an opportunity to rest his chin on the corner of my keyboard in hopes of an absent-minded ear scratch from yours truly as I gathered my thoughts for this post. It worked; ears are thoroughly scratched. Moving on...}

We're in the home stretch, folks. I'm talking less than a year until our future is determined. Less than 365 days until we find out where we'll be spending Dr. D's residency and beginning our next big life adventure.

Where's the fast-forward button?

This past Thursday was Match Day for fourth year medical students all around the country, a day during which I'm sure many tears were shed (both happy and sad) and many adult beverages were consumed (both in celebration and medicinally). Now all of those people are making plans for the future. And next year, that will be us.

I am doing my very best to live in the present, but every now and then I get that exhilarating roller coaster feeling in my gut because--guys, I don't know if you know this about me, but I love new beginnings. And I love road trips. So the potential of getting to go on another cross-country road trip with my husband and poodle on our way to start a new life chapter... well, there aren't a whole lot of things that could excite me more.

I mean, during our last cross-country drive we discovered 85 octane fuel, sweet potato fries, gas stations with slot machines, and gigantic dinosaur sculptures in Colorado. After that, how could I not be hooked? There's so much out there I haven't seen!

That being said, as I began fantasizing this week about all of the fantastic and scary new things that will inevitably start happening to us in a year, I decided to ground myself with some reminders about things that I love about the life we're currently living. I want to make sure I remember these things, so here I go, e-emoting them to the cyberverse:

1. The gorgeousness that is October in Illinois, and our standing tradition of family walks to take pictures of the leaves after they've changed.
2. Multiple college town radio stations, making for epic car dancing sessions and a fun local music scene.
3. Laughing with friends about the funny business cards, ticket stubs, and notes left by strangers underneath the glass table covers at one of our favorite laid-back downtown hangouts.
   
4. The giddiness I feel after winter's first snow, and the fantastically spastic way J-dog greets it, as if on a snowflake high.
   
5. Having a kitchen big enough for impromptu family dance parties when we need to take a break from preparing dinner. J-dog can totally cut a rug.
   
6. Living on a college campus and not having to pay for wireless internet, cable, or indoor climate control.
7. Having a legitimate reason to wear galoshes, and purposefully seeking out deep puddles.
   
8. The fact that sharing one car between the two of us is not a big deal because the public transit system here is phenomenal.
   
9. Knowing that everyone in our building can smell what I'm baking.
   
10. Fireflies in the summer.

Goodbye darkness

I truly despise the idea of losing time, but a part of me is absolutely giddy at the prospect of more sunlight in my days to come (that is, if the clouds will cooperate). Since I knew we're losing an hour tonight, I felt compelled today to get many things done in order to make up for it.

Here's what was accomplished:

• Breakfast oatmeal with banana as sweetener, since Dr. D and I are fasting from sugar (as well as many other delicious things that I miss). It was actually quite lovely.
• Dog sitting, which required twice the potty-walks and twice the "womp" clean-up. We refer to doggy #2's as "womps", by the way. As in, "Dang, he just dropped a deuce. Womp womp..." It just kind of stuck, as many little inside jokes for us do.
• Approximately 150 pages of reading for one of my (three) classes next week. That's more reading than I usually get done on a Saturday, so I'm calling it a victory, regardless of how much I still have left.
• A nap. I mean, can you really consider Saturday a success without one?
• A power point presentation on student debt for one of my classes next week, which had me nervously picking at my cuticles the entire time as I thought about our own amassing debt. Yes, I know that's a horrible habit, but I prefer it to breathing into a paper bag.
• A delish dinner of black bean, grilled onion, and potato tacos, over which Dr. D and I concocted our plan for an invention that we think has the potential to rival the Slap-Chop, ShamWow, and Snuggie in infomercial stardom. I really wish I could share the idea here, but I'd hate to have someone beat us to it. Let's just say we've checked google to make sure nothing like it exists currently, and we may or may not have already story-boarded the infomercial (We did. It's gloriously cheesy). Now we just need financial backers. Any takers?

So perhaps not my most productive day, but all in all, I think I'll be able to go to bed tonight with a clear conscious. I might even be able to convince myself that I've earned an extra hour of sleeping in...

{a mugshot of the wompers}

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:

• 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)

So yeah, that pretty much gets you up to speed. I think I'll leave you with a haiku, since I tend to write them in my head while I put off reading for class, which is exactly what I'm doing now...

I'm totes focusing
on this reading about hist---
Yuck. My dog just burped.

Snow Day

It's official! Our first significant snowfall of the season: somewhere between 5-8 inches since 7pm last night. Because this is only our 3rd winter here, it's easy to forget just how giddy I feel about winter's first snow... but last night was a fun reminder.

Somewhere around 10pm we began to hear the excited squeals and jovial war-cries of a snowball battle outside of our living room window, and decided it was time to take J-dog out for his first walk (perhaps "prance" is a better word for this occasion) of the winter season. At the time, we found a good 4 inches of snow on the ground, and an inexhaustible supply of hyper, stir crazy college students partaking in all manners of snowtime activities---making snow angels, throwing snow balls, stuffing snow down the pants of unsuspecting spectators, and streaking across open spaces in nothing but electric blue underwear briefs. Ah, the joys of living and working on a college campus.

I don't think that my excitement about snow, however, is even one tenth of the overwhelming emotion and sheer ecstasy that J-dog experienced.

Snow is definitely his drug of choice. I like to think that he make-believes as he prances, bounds, and spazzes his way through the mounds of white powder, imagining he's one of those barrel-toting Saint Bernards on an emergency mission, or that there is a covert society of creatures (squirrels, specifically) hiding under the snow and it's his mission to intermittently bury his nose in the drifts to stir up trouble.

This morning, we enjoyed a wonderfully warm breakfast of oatmeal and lattes while watching the snow continue to flurry outside of the kitchen window. With papers to write, studying to do, and nowhere we have to be, I'd say this snowfall is just what Dr. D and I needed to kick-start our Christmas season.

Happy December, everyone!

Proud Puppy Parents

We refuse to be one of those couples who refers to their dog as their "baby." We also try to limit the number of times we mention J-dog in casual conversation to two [relatable to the topic] stories---a rule that we sometimes bend when in the company of other dog lovers and/or veterinary students. We understand that not everyone is going to think our precocious little fur-ball is as amazing as we do. (I wouldn't say their opinion is wrong, per say, but...)

All that being said, and with the disclaimer that if you could care less about our dog then you're more than welcome to sit this one out with no hard feelings, I feel compelled to share:

J-dog is weirdly smart.

I'll admit, when he was younger we weren't so sure he would be. Mostly because he was (and continues to be) incredibly awkward and clumsy. He's like the geeky band kid with allergies, who people find endearing and entertaining to make fun of. And yes, our hypoallergenic poodle has allergies---the irony is not lost on us.

However, despite tripping over his own feet and unsuccessfully attempting to impress the other dogs at the dog park with his strange boxing/goose-stepping playful maneuvers, he continues to surprise us with his brains.

For example, I have this special ring tone for when the hubster calls my cell ("No One's Gonna Love You" by Band of Horses, if you're curious), and Dr. D will frequently call me when he's on his way home. J-dog eventually learned Dr. D's ring tone, so whenever he heard it, he would do a couple laps around the living room, look out the window for a few seconds, and then go wait by the door for Dr. D to get home. That is itself was pretty cool, but then recently when I was playing some music on my laptop and "No One's Gonna Love You" came on, J-dog---who had been sound asleep---startled awake and ran over to the couch where Dr. D was sitting. Confused, he looked from Dr. D, to my laptop, and then back to Dr. D as if to say "But you're already HERE!"

The thing that prompted me to write this post, though, is that J-dog has recently mastered a very delicate, very environmentally-friendly trick...


That's right. Homedog can turn off a light switch.

Note that I say "off" and not "off and on." I'm mean, let's be real... It just wouldn't be environmentally responsible to give the dog the ability to waste energy. This isn't some cheap parlor trick. I'd like to be able call him up at home when Dr. D and I are on vacation and be like, "J-dog, I forgot to turn off the bathroom light. Can you take care of that for me?"

We all need to do our part, people.

MM 101, Lesson 3: Canis Fidelis

You may have gathered that there have been many quiet evenings spent at home for us over the past couple months; Dr. D at the kitchen table with his books, and me on the living room couch with my laptop. By no means have we been complete shut-ins--we've still managed to do a little traveling, had some meals out on the town, some drinks with friends--but we're nowhere near the social butterflies we were before this boards business started.

As someone who identifies as a bit of a home-body and who has taken multiple personality assessments that label me an "introvert" (although I prefer to think of myself as a situational extrovert), I really haven't minded the social down time. I've managed to adjust to sharing my husband with textbooks and Dr. Edward Goljan, and I've avoided going completely stir-crazy thanks to a certain fuzzy creature in our home who provides endless amounts of entertainment.

This brings me to my next lesson in Medical Matrimony: Get a dog. Preferably a dog that thinks you're fan-freaking-tastic.

For those of you who may be thinking, Who has the time for a dog?, I'll have you know that while Dr. D is a busy med student and I have a full time job, we share equal responsibility for this little fur ball and we've had an absolute blast with him over the past 2 years. (Disclaimer: the puppy/potty training stage was a bit of a struggle so if you're a full time student and you don't have a partner living with you to help split puppy duty, I'd suggest adopting an older dog). Don't let the time commitment scare you off! Dr. D and I have learned that the benefits of loyal dog companionship (canis fidelis, if you will) far outweigh the disadvantages.

I'd like to share a few reasons why having J-dog around has been such a hoot in our household:

• Witnessing a dog's range of emotions helps you appreciate and experience those same feelings more deeply in your own life, especially when you find yourself jaded after a long and arduous day. For example, I don't think any of us truly understand just how FREAKING AWESOME it is when we come home from work/school every day. According to J-dog's perky ears, tongue-lolling smile, and frenzied propeller-like tail motion, coming home is an event worthy of pure joy, and thanks to him I now feel that joy every time I walk in the door. Also, if I could bottle up and give away the unquenchable hope that J-dog displays every time I open the peanut butter jar, I think antidepressants would be rendered useless.
• Dogs can learn to do things about 5 million times faster than babies. This is great not only because they can do a lot more than just lay there, eat, and poop for the first months of their lives, but because you can teach them to do silly and fantastically entertaining things without getting CPS called on you. If I were to teach my baby to fall over and play dead when I yelled "BANG!" at it, I'd be deemed an unfit mother. But when my dog does it, it elicits applause. Booyah.
• I typically plug in my headphones and mess around on my computer while I wait for my baking to finish, which could easily spell crispy, burnt disaster since I can't hear the oven timer. However, J-dog always lets me know when the oven beeps at the one-minute mark with an earnest nose to the arm followed by a "rally the troops" lap trotted around the couch where I'm sitting. I have no idea how he learned to do this, but batch after batch, he never fails me.
• J-dog is the best remedy to a stressed out/studied out/burned out day. Whether it's cuddles or wrasslin' you're after, this dog's got both in spades. Dr. D is now in the habit of taking what he calls "Poodle Breaks" during high-stress study sessions, which usually involves a little bit of chasing, some tug of war, a dash of capoeira style sparring, and typically ends with J-dog hitting Dr. D in the crotch. And yet, miraculously, the Poodle Breaks continue. I'm a bit more partial to the cuddling.

It's quite possible for me to go on forever about this awkward, fluffy, mess-of-a-dog we share our home with, but I'll spare you for now. Just know that I would highly suggest canine companionship for any young couple that is faced with a lifestyle-changing situation like medical school, grad school, or the professional world. I've found that it's helped us stay grounded in our home life, and we've grown closer by learning to love someone/something besides each other--it's also an affordable alternative to parenthood. It's giving us some time to warm up to the idea...

...in the future, Mom. The waaaaaaaaay future.

To a Safe & Healthy 4th!

Just a quick one to wish you all a happy 4th of July weekend!

We don't have anything big planned since Dr. D is now less than a week away from taking the boards, but I'm quite content to laze around and enjoy my three day weekend free of commitments. For me, the fruits of today's labor were some shockingly sassy metallic-silver fingernails and sun on my cheeks, both of which I'm pretty pleased with.

What I am not pleased with, however (and prepare yourselves because this may come off as totally un-American), are these booming fireworks that have been going off all around us all night. I'm not the biggest fan of fireworks. Sure, they're pretty to look at, but that's about the only redeeming quality that I can identify about them. They're so abrupt and loud, like angry loud. They just make me kind of indignant. A strange reaction, I'll give you that, but I can't really help it.

J-dog must have been picking up on my anti-fireworks vibes tonight... to his credit, he wasn't scared of the noises, per say, but he did give a little huff-like bark (similar to a scoff) every time one went off. I believe what he was trying to say was, "How dare you disturb my evening ritual of bone gnawing and napping at Dr. D's feet?"

I guess the other thing about fireworks that I don't like is that they've always seemed very dangerous to me. And for good reason, as this poor schmo from New York had to find out the hard way today. Here's the gist of the AP article:

Suffolk County police say 36-year-old Eric Smith was using a 3-foot long metal tube to shoot mortars from the street near his home around 5:45 p.m. Saturday.

Police believe he leaned over the device to ignite it and didn't get out of the way before an explosive shot out of the launcher. His left arm was severed at the shoulder.

Total bummer. But get this: they're going to try to reattach his arm at the hospital! Man, doctors can be so darn useful sometimes. I also happen to know that it is possible for him to regain full use of his arm... because they did it on a Grey's Anatomy episode once. I told you, Grey's will keep you up to speed on the medical world.

Anyway, have a SAFE holiday everyone, and enjoy!

The Pressure/Puppy Paradox

Getting a dog of my own was always something I threatened to do. It began the week after I left home and settled into the residence halls for undergrad. I remember telling my boyfriend (aka Dr. D) that I'd found a loophole in the university's pet policy, which only allowed pets that were fully submerged in water: "I'll just, you know... throw the dog in a bucket of water whenever the RA comes by." As you can see, my threats to get a dog were always fairly empty. My puppy lust usually correlated with my stress level, so I would typically go through a couple days of intense longing for puppy breath on my face, and then when my exam was over or my paper was finished, I could get back to living my normal, dog obsession-less life.

Fast forward five years. Past graduation, past the proposal, past Dr. D getting notified that he was accepted to med school, past the wedding aaaaaand... about half-way through our cross country move. Just Dr. D and me, together in our gas-guzzling (but oh-so-free) mom-mobile for three days straight with nothing to do but eat MSG-licious gas station snacks, listen to Order of the Phoenix on audiobook, and, oh yeah, talk about this thing we got ourselves in to called marriage.

At some point over those three days of conversation--which ranged from "what the heck is 85 octane?" to "yeah, 'Thor' is pretty awesome, but what about girl baby names?"--I felt compelled to casually bring up the possibility of getting a dog.

"Okay, so no kids for a while. How about a dog?"

"Yeah!"

Upon first reading, I know that looks like an emphatic heck-yes-let's-get-a-dog-right-NOW! kind of response from Dr. D. But here's what doesn't translate to writing: another thing I've learned that Dr. D does (which he will deny to the grave, I imagine) is when he doesn't really want to do something or agree with something but he also doesn't want the other person to know that he doesn't, his voice gets really high-pitched. Just shy of shrill, really. So read the above exchange again, keeping that in mind.

Hmm.

I don't remember exactly where the conversation turned from there, but I do remember mentally filing the dog issue into my "keep talking about it occasionally to warm him up to the idea" category (also in this category: buying shoes that aren't from Aldo, the tv show Weeds, Lilith Fair, and cheese).

But then something odd happened. We got settled in to our new place, I started my job, Dr. D started classes, and then he started hounding (hah!) me about getting a dog. Apparently without making the conscious effort to do so, I had started talking so much about dog ownership and being on the fence about it that Dr. D practically had to wrestle me over the edge. I was so stressed about being in a new place in a new job with a new husband who had all this new pressure that my puppy lust came back in full force and I didn't even realize it! All the stress was making me crave a dog, but I was too stressed to fathom actually getting one. Thank goodness for my husband...

"Seriously! Let's just get a dog. I mean it." Normal pitch and everything, ladies and gents. That's love.

And so, we ended up with the ferociously fluffy, always awkward J-dog. But that's a story and a lesson for another time.

J-dog turned 2 today :]

Teeth aren't bones

Last night, in the hour-long lull between Dr. D’s furious Step 1 Boards cramming and the blissful head-meets-pillow moment, my husband and I were cozied up on our living room couch, sharing our days’ events.

As we discussed the general overarching themes of the day (Dr. D’s being “cancer sucks” and mine being “having a 36-inch inseam also sucks, but not as much as cancer”), my diatribe about designers being too cheap to use additional fabric to make extra-long jeggings was interrupted by the obnoxious, fingers-on-chalkboard sound of our dog’s teeth on his bone.

“…and I have no idea why I seem to be the only one with this problem, because obviously models must have long—how in the holy HECK does he still have teeth left in his mouth?!”

I picked up one end of the bone (dog still firmly attached to the other end, mind you) and Dr. D and I watched, transfixed and uneasy, as J-dog euphorically continued to gnaw his teeth rhythmically over the bone with a grinding errrrrrrrk! errrrrrrrk! sound.

One of the many reasons I love Dr. D is that I can usually rely on him for an answer to any of my questions having to do with science… sometimes they’re real answers, sometimes made up—I’m okay either way because I figure I’ll either learn or be entertained. So, I asked him, “How come he’s not chipping any teeth? Are dog’s bones really that much stronger than this cow/pig/horse/whatever’s bone?”

Dr. D has this kind of half-smile, squinty look he gives me when I say something ridiculous and he’s trying to figure out whether or not I really meant it. He quickly saw that I did: “You do realize teeth aren’t bones, right?”

…Wrong.

World. Rocked.

How have I gone nearly 25 years under the misguided assumption that teeth are just itty bitty bones that are lodged in our noggins? Shouldn’t I have learned this in a Magic School Bus episode or something? Honestly, the only time I ever really remember learning about teeth in school was in my (Texas) 2^nd grade class when representatives from Crest toothpaste came in to talk to us about the importance of using Kid’s Crest to keep away cavities. I must have been too engrossed in the free samples and the awesomeness that was Crest Sparkleman to hear the part of their lecture about teeth not being gosh darn bones.

At first I was freaked out that I might be the only person on earth who wasn’t aware of the whole teeth-aren’t-bones thing, but a quick google search was enough to set my mind at ease—I didn’t even have to completely type in “are teeth bones” because it auto-filled for me. Phew.

Anyway, if you’ve got some time and you really want to bone-up (hah!) on what makes a tooth a tooth and not a bone, you might want to conduct a search of your own… or you could just look at this diagram I found and note that nowhere on it does it say “bone.” Go figure.

In related news, did you know that it’s possible to get a tooth tattoo? More importantly, did you know you can get a tattooth (term coined by Dr. D) of Simon Cowell?

You know you want to.