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:

• 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.
  

But on the other hand, "almost" can also mean "close enough," which results in:

• 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."

I think we're both looking forward to a time in the near future (14 months, to be precise) when we can put this "almost" phase of our life behind us. But at least we're having some good times along the way.

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 =/