Maybe it's the part where they're noodley?!
Showing posts with label life excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life excerpt. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Are you high??
Let's be honest: if I'm going to participate in my first blogging link up, who better to link up with than one of my first blogging friends-who-is-also-a-stranger-but-not-really-because-yay-internet? DJ writes a blog I visit every day, and I follow it because she makes me laugh and generally feel like I'm not the only one whose life has kinda flown the cuckoo's nest because I'm in love with a guy in the medical profession.
Imagine my glee when, after a prolonged blogging hiatus, I returned to find that DJ had just set out on a new blogging endeavor called Medicine: A Love Story. The only thing better than experiencing our own shenanigans at home related to being in residency is reading about other people's shenanigans during residency. It has a normalizing effect, and I love it.
So, on to today's link up.
There have been plenty of screwball conversations between Dr. D and I that have been tinged by Step-study dazes and post-call sleep deprivation. To wit, this particular text exchange between us as D went to get drug tested (chillax! D hasn't developed a drug habit. Testing is a required procedure for all interns rotating at our children's hospital) after being on an overnight shift:
I'd like to think this illustrated two things rather nicely: (1) We're super mature about drugs, and (2) D was too tired to even remember where he lived. I really hope they didn't attribute his blood-shot eyes and disorientation to something else.
Imagine my glee when, after a prolonged blogging hiatus, I returned to find that DJ had just set out on a new blogging endeavor called Medicine: A Love Story. The only thing better than experiencing our own shenanigans at home related to being in residency is reading about other people's shenanigans during residency. It has a normalizing effect, and I love it.
So, on to today's link up.
The prompt: What's the craziest/funniest conversation/experience you've had as a result of sleep deprivation?
There have been plenty of screwball conversations between Dr. D and I that have been tinged by Step-study dazes and post-call sleep deprivation. To wit, this particular text exchange between us as D went to get drug tested (chillax! D hasn't developed a drug habit. Testing is a required procedure for all interns rotating at our children's hospital) after being on an overnight shift:
I'd like to think this illustrated two things rather nicely: (1) We're super mature about drugs, and (2) D was too tired to even remember where he lived. I really hope they didn't attribute his blood-shot eyes and disorientation to something else.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Junk Food for the Soul
Two days ago, I found myself sitting alone in my car in the nearly empty parking lot of a movie theater on the outskirts of town. It had been too long to remember since I had eaten anything from a fast food drive-through, and yet at this moment in time, I held a small mango pineapple smoothie in one hand and a McDonald's three-piece Chicken Selects in the other. The radio played at a deafening decibel, and as a song by Darwin Deez sounded over the airwaves, I started to cry. And then I started to laugh at myself, at the ridiculousness of it all. I also distinctly remember snorting, which made me laugh-cry harder.
Two observations: (1) Grief is a crazily convoluted emotion, and (2) eating while laugh-crying feels awkward. But in that moment, it was what I needed to do---I'm sure of it. We all have that tipping point, where the surface tension of bottled up emotions finally spills over, and apparently that moment was mine.
My reactions to grief have ranged in my lifetime from convincing myself that the benevolent spirit of a loved-one resided in my family's spare bedroom, to a full-blown anxiety of flying in airplanes, and even to a habit of changing the radio station whenever a Modest Mouse song is on. And I guess this time around, I needed some junk food and an upbeat, goofy love song.*
Do yourself a favor. Don't ever let anyone tell you that there's one way to grieve that's better than others, because my life experiences so far have taught me that not only is that not the case, but you can never predict how you'll react to grief. Don't limit yourself.
Life is so beautiful, so precious. Gosh, I hope you're enjoying it.
*Thank goodness Dr. D will be home in a week to remind me how nutritionally gross McDonald's is, because so help me, I didn't think the chicken was half bad...
Two observations: (1) Grief is a crazily convoluted emotion, and (2) eating while laugh-crying feels awkward. But in that moment, it was what I needed to do---I'm sure of it. We all have that tipping point, where the surface tension of bottled up emotions finally spills over, and apparently that moment was mine.
My reactions to grief have ranged in my lifetime from convincing myself that the benevolent spirit of a loved-one resided in my family's spare bedroom, to a full-blown anxiety of flying in airplanes, and even to a habit of changing the radio station whenever a Modest Mouse song is on. And I guess this time around, I needed some junk food and an upbeat, goofy love song.*
Do yourself a favor. Don't ever let anyone tell you that there's one way to grieve that's better than others, because my life experiences so far have taught me that not only is that not the case, but you can never predict how you'll react to grief. Don't limit yourself.
Life is so beautiful, so precious. Gosh, I hope you're enjoying it.
*Thank goodness Dr. D will be home in a week to remind me how nutritionally gross McDonald's is, because so help me, I didn't think the chicken was half bad...
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Stink-face States
Dr. D and I on the phone, going over which programs he should send his residency application to:
Me: "CALIFOR---
Him: "Why don't we just start at the top of the list and work our way down alphabetically?"
Me: "---NYeahhhh, that's a great idea. Makes complete sense."
Him: "Okay. Alabama."
Me: "........"
Him: "You're making a stink-face, aren't you?"
Me: "...yes. You're not?"
Him: "What about Arkansas?"
Me: "........"
Him: "This does not bode well."
I have this problem where I can't control my face. Or at least, I can't control my face in reaction to something I don't like or am anticipating not liking. My loving husband knows this about me---he's had about sixteen years of experience dealing with how my face looks in these situations, and has dubbed it my "stink-face."
I'm pretty sure we all have a version of this face, am I right? And in our case, mine was a useful tool for determining residency prospects. Much to Dr. D's chagrin.
Don't get me wrong---to my knowledge, there is nothing innately horrible about Alabama, Arkansas, or any other stink-face state. I'm sure we could find redeeming qualities about each of them.
I just can't control the face, people.
All told, we still ended up applying to a whopping 70 ENT programs (out of 105 total in the nation, some of which are military only). We've got to cast a wide net, because this is a tough specialty to match in to. There are people who literally do not match anywhere, and that scares the daylights out of us.
Luckily I know that Dr. D is brilliant, has great scores and experiences, and can pretty much charm the heck out of even the most demure docs. At the risk of sounding boastful, I'm confident enough for the both of us that we'll match. And we are determined to make the most out of next year's adventure in our new, non-stink-face home.
Anybody else have stink-face states?
Me: "CALIFOR---
Him: "Why don't we just start at the top of the list and work our way down alphabetically?"
Me: "---NYeahhhh, that's a great idea. Makes complete sense."
Him: "Okay. Alabama."
Me: "........"
Him: "You're making a stink-face, aren't you?"
Me: "...yes. You're not?"
Him: "What about Arkansas?"
Me: "........"
Him: "This does not bode well."
I have this problem where I can't control my face. Or at least, I can't control my face in reaction to something I don't like or am anticipating not liking. My loving husband knows this about me---he's had about sixteen years of experience dealing with how my face looks in these situations, and has dubbed it my "stink-face."
I'm pretty sure we all have a version of this face, am I right? And in our case, mine was a useful tool for determining residency prospects. Much to Dr. D's chagrin.
Don't get me wrong---to my knowledge, there is nothing innately horrible about Alabama, Arkansas, or any other stink-face state. I'm sure we could find redeeming qualities about each of them.
I just can't control the face, people.
All told, we still ended up applying to a whopping 70 ENT programs (out of 105 total in the nation, some of which are military only). We've got to cast a wide net, because this is a tough specialty to match in to. There are people who literally do not match anywhere, and that scares the daylights out of us.
Luckily I know that Dr. D is brilliant, has great scores and experiences, and can pretty much charm the heck out of even the most demure docs. At the risk of sounding boastful, I'm confident enough for the both of us that we'll match. And we are determined to make the most out of next year's adventure in our new, non-stink-face home.
Anybody else have stink-face states?
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
The Perfect Date
We all have our own ideas about romance---some like it simple and low-key, others like it outlandishly extravagant with all the bells and whistles.
I'd like to think that I'm somewhere in the middle. I do so enjoy the occasional fancy French restaurant outing, bottle of red wine, and an accompanying long-stemmed red rose. On the other hand, my ideal romantic evening tends to be one in which I can dress in cute and comfortable clothes (there is no true comfort in a French restaurant, as far as I've witnessed), laugh loudly, obnoxiously, and uninhibitedly at my husband's jokes, and not have to worry about embarrassing myself by using the dessert fork for my salad.
How horribly gauche...
Dr. D and I have found many local establishments over these past few years that fit the bill for a perfect date night. For me, a perfect date night is a night in which we can share lots of unique and delicious food without breaking the bank (tapas fit the bill nicely), indulge in adult beverages at an environment that is conducive to conversation (no loud club music or belligerent undergrads!), and have the option of doing something fun or competitive to pass the moments in between our brilliantly witty banter. (Yes, we do think rather highly of each others' hilarity... it's one of the most healthy aspects of our marriage.)
Before Dr. D set out for his most recent away rotation, we made it a point to have one of our "ideal" date nights, and I'm happy to say it was exactly that. Good food, plenty of laughs, and some playful competition at the dart board.
I'm also happy to report that the evening went so well that we didn't have to call Elvis for a good time.
What are some of your favorite ways to spend date night?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
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.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Life excerpt
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."
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."
