I am an intern. Right now I am an intern in foodservice. When I used to think of foodservice it was the foodservice from reality tv chef shows. It seemed fun. I like cooking. I like baking. I like it when people eat foods that I have prepared.
However those shows are nothing like hospital foodservice where I am currently interning. For one thing, everyone hates their food. This isn't necessarily surprising as it is mass produced and everyone is sick so things don't taste right anyway. Second, there are a lot of logistics! In hospitals there is constantly construction and there are meetings about that construction and foodservice has to be involved because food is important. Finally, they don't really cook in hospitals, as I have discovered. My fellow interns and I are responsible for planning an event during our rotation. We wanted to do gingerbread men and decorate for the holidays. Apparently our food supplier not only does not supply gingerbread men, but they don't provide gingerbread cookies, gingerbread bulk dough or gingerbread mix. This means that we would have to make the cookies from scratch. When I presented that idea they said that they really didn't do that.
So, hospitals don't cook food, they thaw and reheat it. Instead of cooking they spend their time sorting out ordering guides, figuring out staffing issues, going to meetings about construction and filling out patient satisfaction surveys for unsatisfied patients. Essentially the only aspect of reality tv celebrity chef foodservice that I enjoy, cooking, is omitted from the process.
Disclaimer: I really do not like my foodservice rotation so I could be a little bit down on hospital food. I have eaten a few meals in the cafeteria and they are okay.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
The interview trail - The 2 months that determine our next 4 years
The hubs and I are on interview # 2 for residency right now. His first interview was yesterday at Mt. Carmel in Columbus, and today he is interviewing in Ann Arbor. Between now and Christmas we will be going to Ohio State, Riverside (also in Columbus); Metro Health, Cleveland Clinic and Case Western, all in Cleveland; Pittsburgh; Johns Hopkins in Baltimore; Mass Gen in Boston; and Stanford in Stanford, California (near San Jose).
This whole process is quite overwhelming and complicated - and most people do not understand how it works. Here is a brief outline of what life will look like for us between now and June, 2011.
1.) Between now and Christmas the main concern is hitting the interview trail. Well, the hubs is hitting the interview trail...I'm just sightseeing. My other responsibility when we travel to the interview cities is to determine if there is reasonably priced real estate within a half hour drive of the medical center. Also, given my recent safety scares (see Gun Shy) I am super concerned with living in a safe place. I drive around each city with a map and draw smiley faces over the neighborhoods that look safe and a frowny face over those that look dangerous (criteria for dangerous or crummy neighborhoods: Barbed wire, men wearing their pants below their behinds, payday loan stores, condemned homes).
2.) January through February we will be deciding on a ranking list for the hubs and I want to go. This is important for the match. Essentially, each residency program ranks who they want and the applicants rank where they want to go. A computer then "matches" the lists and places the applicants in residency programs. The somewhat stressful part here is that you have to sign a contract saying that you will go where you are matched. This means that while we have preferences, we ultimately do not have the final control over where we are going to be living for the next 4 years. To make it more complicated, we own a house. Because of this we are thinking about trying to do a 1+3 year program rather than a 4 year program. For a 4 year program the hubs will be doing anesthesia for all 4 years. For a 1+3 year program he will be doing medicine for 1 year and then anesthesia for the next 3 years. The nice thing about this option is that we can spend year 1 in our current hometown and then the next three years elsewhere. This would give us one full year of knowing where we will be moving, to sell our current house and to buy one in our new city.
3.) March - Match day!!! Match day occurs in March and is the day where 4th year medical students from all over the country discover where they are going to be matched for residency. This also means that this is the day where you find out where you will be living in just 2-3 months.
4.) June - Move to our new home, or stay in our current home, or...it's complicated. Like I said, we won't know until March what we will be doing.
There are many considerations that go into making this decision and they will all weigh in over the next few months. These include proximity to our families, the fact that we want to start our own family soon, moving to an east or west coast town where the cost of living is much higher or staying in the midwest where we will have a much easier time making ends meet, moving away from a city which we love, choosing the best research program where the hubs can easily transition into a fellowship, choosing a strong anesthesia residency program...so much to think about!
I will update as we continue this process!
FAQ:
Will he be a doctor after he graduates from medical school?
Yes, he will be a doctor. However, you have to do residency for further training in your specialty. You practice under a doctor called an attending (they have finished residency). He will be a doctor and he will be getting a paycheck (thank goodness!) but you are still considered a trainee during residency.
Is intern year a part of medical school or residency or something else?
Intern year is a part of residency. It is the first year of residency. For some specialties, like surgery or anesthesiology, they have an intern year so you can get a bit more exposure to general medicine. This will make you a better doctor in the end. This is why the hubs can do a 1+3 year residency program where we won't have to move our first year. The first year will be in medicine and the last 3 in anesthesia.
How long is residency?
It depends on a few factors. Many programs are 3 years long - Emergency medicine, family medicine... Some are 4, some 5. And then if you decide to do something like neurosurgery I'm pretty sure that residency never ends. :-)
What is the difference between an intern, a resident and an attending?
First you do medical school for four years. People sometimes get confused if the hubs has graduated or not because years 3 and 4 of medical school are clinical years where you do rotations in several specialties. This helps you to narrow down what specialty you want to do for residency. During the 4th year of medical school you apply to residency programs. Some of these programs include an intern year (the first year of residency - while you are a resident they refer to you as an intern...you don't get referred to as a resident until the second year after you graduate from medical school, the first year after intern year). After intern year you complete the rest of residency. When you finish residency you are an attending, with a big salary boost and the benefit of being able to practice on your own.
What are the boards?
The boards are standardized tests that you have to take along the way to becoming a doctor. Step 1 is the first board test that you take after your second year of medical school. At this point you are getting ready to start your clinical years of medical school. Step 2 is actually two tests: Clinical Skills and Clinical Knowledge. Clinical Skills is a test where you go in and talk to patients (actors that are acting out a specific disease or condition) and you get graded for that. Clinical knowledge is a written test, kind of like steps 1 and 3. Step 3 is a test that you take during residency.
This whole process is quite overwhelming and complicated - and most people do not understand how it works. Here is a brief outline of what life will look like for us between now and June, 2011.
1.) Between now and Christmas the main concern is hitting the interview trail. Well, the hubs is hitting the interview trail...I'm just sightseeing. My other responsibility when we travel to the interview cities is to determine if there is reasonably priced real estate within a half hour drive of the medical center. Also, given my recent safety scares (see Gun Shy) I am super concerned with living in a safe place. I drive around each city with a map and draw smiley faces over the neighborhoods that look safe and a frowny face over those that look dangerous (criteria for dangerous or crummy neighborhoods: Barbed wire, men wearing their pants below their behinds, payday loan stores, condemned homes).
2.) January through February we will be deciding on a ranking list for the hubs and I want to go. This is important for the match. Essentially, each residency program ranks who they want and the applicants rank where they want to go. A computer then "matches" the lists and places the applicants in residency programs. The somewhat stressful part here is that you have to sign a contract saying that you will go where you are matched. This means that while we have preferences, we ultimately do not have the final control over where we are going to be living for the next 4 years. To make it more complicated, we own a house. Because of this we are thinking about trying to do a 1+3 year program rather than a 4 year program. For a 4 year program the hubs will be doing anesthesia for all 4 years. For a 1+3 year program he will be doing medicine for 1 year and then anesthesia for the next 3 years. The nice thing about this option is that we can spend year 1 in our current hometown and then the next three years elsewhere. This would give us one full year of knowing where we will be moving, to sell our current house and to buy one in our new city.
3.) March - Match day!!! Match day occurs in March and is the day where 4th year medical students from all over the country discover where they are going to be matched for residency. This also means that this is the day where you find out where you will be living in just 2-3 months.
4.) June - Move to our new home, or stay in our current home, or...it's complicated. Like I said, we won't know until March what we will be doing.
There are many considerations that go into making this decision and they will all weigh in over the next few months. These include proximity to our families, the fact that we want to start our own family soon, moving to an east or west coast town where the cost of living is much higher or staying in the midwest where we will have a much easier time making ends meet, moving away from a city which we love, choosing the best research program where the hubs can easily transition into a fellowship, choosing a strong anesthesia residency program...so much to think about!
I will update as we continue this process!
FAQ:
Will he be a doctor after he graduates from medical school?
Yes, he will be a doctor. However, you have to do residency for further training in your specialty. You practice under a doctor called an attending (they have finished residency). He will be a doctor and he will be getting a paycheck (thank goodness!) but you are still considered a trainee during residency.
Is intern year a part of medical school or residency or something else?
Intern year is a part of residency. It is the first year of residency. For some specialties, like surgery or anesthesiology, they have an intern year so you can get a bit more exposure to general medicine. This will make you a better doctor in the end. This is why the hubs can do a 1+3 year residency program where we won't have to move our first year. The first year will be in medicine and the last 3 in anesthesia.
How long is residency?
It depends on a few factors. Many programs are 3 years long - Emergency medicine, family medicine... Some are 4, some 5. And then if you decide to do something like neurosurgery I'm pretty sure that residency never ends. :-)
What is the difference between an intern, a resident and an attending?
First you do medical school for four years. People sometimes get confused if the hubs has graduated or not because years 3 and 4 of medical school are clinical years where you do rotations in several specialties. This helps you to narrow down what specialty you want to do for residency. During the 4th year of medical school you apply to residency programs. Some of these programs include an intern year (the first year of residency - while you are a resident they refer to you as an intern...you don't get referred to as a resident until the second year after you graduate from medical school, the first year after intern year). After intern year you complete the rest of residency. When you finish residency you are an attending, with a big salary boost and the benefit of being able to practice on your own.
What are the boards?
The boards are standardized tests that you have to take along the way to becoming a doctor. Step 1 is the first board test that you take after your second year of medical school. At this point you are getting ready to start your clinical years of medical school. Step 2 is actually two tests: Clinical Skills and Clinical Knowledge. Clinical Skills is a test where you go in and talk to patients (actors that are acting out a specific disease or condition) and you get graded for that. Clinical knowledge is a written test, kind of like steps 1 and 3. Step 3 is a test that you take during residency.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Safari is the winner!
If you started reading this post because you thought that I was going to be talking about the obvious superiority of Apple products then I am sorry to disappoint you. This post is actually being written because I discovered the stats tab in blogger tonight. With this wonderful tab you can find out how many people have viewed your blog, where they are from (I discovered one page view was from Israel and one from China), what browser they are using (Safari - you are winning with 54%, glad to see my Mac people are sticking with me!), what page they viewed on your blog and how many people have visited your blog in any given day. I feel like I have some super spy technology now! It is kind of like when I saw that facebook had that application that you could add to see who was visiting your page (the application was actually just a program that allowed some spyware company to spy on you, not for you to spy on those visiting your page, but I digress). Ah, another way to blow 5 minutes in the middle of the day when I can't motivate myself to do something useful. :-)
Thursday, September 2, 2010
A comedy of errors - baby shower remix
This was just one of those evenings that you have to laugh at because everything went exactly wrong. I am supposed to be at a baby shower right now but instead am at home blogging. Here is how it went down:
3:34 pm: I finished my workout and decide to cook dinner. The baby shower is supposed to start at 6:30, I still need to shower and wrap the gift, and dinner should take about an hour to cook...need to leave at 6:15...yeah, this should leave plenty of time to finish all of my tasks and get to the baby shower on time!
4:42 pm: Dinner is ready! A new dish that is a success!!! The hubs and I sit down to eat it and I map out what I still have to do before I leave.
5:12 pm: Take a shower.
5:21 pm: Start doing my hair and make-up. It's been a few days since I have gotten all gussied up so I decide to go all out with the curly hair and smokey eyes.
5:58 pm: Finished getting ready. Time to wrap the gift!
6:02 pm: I decide that I am too lazy to wrap the gift in a box so I opt for the much easier gift bag. Thank goodness I bought a bunch of extra ones a couple of weeks ago from the Target dollar bin!
6:03 pm: Oh, shoot! I need a card too!
6:04 pm: Remember that I bought a bunch of cards from the dollar card rack for occasions in which I forget to buy a card. I raid the desk drawer with greeting cards and am victorious.
6:09 pm: I decide to look up directions to the shower since I have to leave in 6 minutes. I realize the address is not in the email about the shower like I thought. No problem - I have a church directory and can just look up the address!
6:11 pm: I have used google maps to find the house. I briefly relay some of the directions to the hubs and say, "This isn't the way that we used to go to their house, is it?" He says no, but that we always went to their house from the south and I will be traveling from the north so google maps is probably just telling me a different way.
6:15 pm: I am in the car and pulling out of the garage. Man, am I good at timing!
6:26 pm: I get off at the exit and am less than 1.5 miles away from their house. Guess it's time to pull out my hand written directions!
6:28 pm: First snafu - my directions say to turn left onto Lancon Rd but the name of this road is Lacon Rd. I must have just written it down wrong.
6:29 pm: Did google maps say 0.2 miles to the next turn or 0.7. Maybe I should have written that down... No, it was definitely 0.2 and I have driven much further than that already. Maybe I'll just turn around and look for Lancon Rd. Maybe there are two roads - one Lacon and one Lancon. They were really stupid naming two roads such similar names!
6:32 pm: I opt for my GPS since I can't find Lancon Rd. It tells me that I should have turned on Lacon Rd. So maybe I was the stupid one.
6:34 pm: I double back and realize that it was 0.7 miles not 0.2 miles and I turned around one street before my turn. It's okay, I'll only be about 5 minutes late.
6:35 pm: I am 5 minutes late, there are no balloons on the mailbox and there are no other cars in the street. Was this a surprise baby shower or something? Should I be parking someplace else? Aren't there always balloons on the mailbox? I don't even recognize the house from the 3 other times I have been here. Did they move since the directory was printed? Maybe I'll just sit in my car until I see someone else walk into the house.
6:37 pm: Still sitting in my car. Surely someone else is late and will walk into the house soon.
6:38 pm: I feel stupid just sitting in my car in front of a random house. Maybe I should rummage through my purse some to make my delay in exiting my vehicle more convincing.
6:39 pm: Lip gloss! I'll apply lip gloss! That has to take at least a minute - surely someone will arrive in the next minute!
6:40 pm: I have spent one full minute applying lip gloss. My mouth feels like a slip and slide, no one else has arrived at the house, and now I am 10 minutes late. Another thought occurs to me: I shouldn't be sitting out here because if it is a surprise I don't want to blow the surprise by sitting in my car in front of the party.
6:41 pm: I buck up, grab the present from my passenger seat and walk to the front door.
6:41 and 30 seconds: I ring the doorbell. A 10 year old girl answers. This is unexpected - a grown-up in party gear should have answered and directed me where to put the gift. She doesn't say anything to me so I say, "Is this where the shower is at?" She continues looking at me not saying anything. Wait, do 10 year olds know what a baby shower is if you just call it a shower? Does she think I am talking about a literal shower? Did I just creep out a 10 year old by asking her about a shower at her house? She continues to look very confused so I say, "I guess not!" and quickly retreat to my car.
6:43 pm: I pull my cell phone out of my purse and realize that last night when I discovered it wasn't charged I thought, "Oh, I'll just charge it the next time I get up." and then didn't. My cell phone is dead, I am the creepy person who just asked a child about taking a shower at their house and I still have no idea where the shower is actually at.
6:44 pm: I decide that I probably shouldn't stay parked in front of this person's house so I just start driving. Maybe they did move. I bet I can back track and figure out how to get to their house if I drive from the south. However, I'm not sure how to get to the south.
6:52 pm: By winding through many roads I have finally found the road that we usually take. Okay, now all I have to do is drive in the general direction, I will recognize the turns that I have to make, I will find their neighborhood and then all I have to do is look for balloons on a mailbox! I may be a half hour late but this should be a piece of cake.
7:02 pm: My plan has already failed. Apparently I shouldn't have made the hubs drive to their house every time because I didn't recognize the turn. I have now hit a dead end and I am several miles away from my starting point and in the country. All that is around me are corn fields and farm houses.
7:06 pm: I have made a couple more turns and realize that I am lost and I am not going to be able to find their house by "winging it." I start heading home
7:08 pm: I have done a couple of calculations - I don't quite know where I am at but I figure that I am greater than 15 minutes from home. They live greater than 15 minutes away from me. It will probably take me about 10 minutes to find their actual address and then make a map. That means that I probably have no chance of getting to the shower until 8:00 pm. It started at 6:30 pm. Is 1.5 hours inappropriately late?
7:29 pm: I arrive at home defeated. The hubs comes out to the garage because he can't figure out why it would open on it's own and then I have to admit the whole story to him. The whole time I am talking the poodle is jumping up and down seeking my attention. At least the dog is happy to see me.
8:04 pm: I have put on my pajamas. I have also gotten onto facebook and sent my apologies for not being at the party. This evening didn't go as planned, but the hubs is just finishing up his work for the day and he and I will spend the rest of our evening together. This is a comedy of errors that has been salvaged into an okay night.
3:34 pm: I finished my workout and decide to cook dinner. The baby shower is supposed to start at 6:30, I still need to shower and wrap the gift, and dinner should take about an hour to cook...need to leave at 6:15...yeah, this should leave plenty of time to finish all of my tasks and get to the baby shower on time!
4:42 pm: Dinner is ready! A new dish that is a success!!! The hubs and I sit down to eat it and I map out what I still have to do before I leave.
5:12 pm: Take a shower.
5:21 pm: Start doing my hair and make-up. It's been a few days since I have gotten all gussied up so I decide to go all out with the curly hair and smokey eyes.
5:58 pm: Finished getting ready. Time to wrap the gift!
6:02 pm: I decide that I am too lazy to wrap the gift in a box so I opt for the much easier gift bag. Thank goodness I bought a bunch of extra ones a couple of weeks ago from the Target dollar bin!
6:03 pm: Oh, shoot! I need a card too!
6:04 pm: Remember that I bought a bunch of cards from the dollar card rack for occasions in which I forget to buy a card. I raid the desk drawer with greeting cards and am victorious.
6:09 pm: I decide to look up directions to the shower since I have to leave in 6 minutes. I realize the address is not in the email about the shower like I thought. No problem - I have a church directory and can just look up the address!
6:11 pm: I have used google maps to find the house. I briefly relay some of the directions to the hubs and say, "This isn't the way that we used to go to their house, is it?" He says no, but that we always went to their house from the south and I will be traveling from the north so google maps is probably just telling me a different way.
6:15 pm: I am in the car and pulling out of the garage. Man, am I good at timing!
6:26 pm: I get off at the exit and am less than 1.5 miles away from their house. Guess it's time to pull out my hand written directions!
6:28 pm: First snafu - my directions say to turn left onto Lancon Rd but the name of this road is Lacon Rd. I must have just written it down wrong.
6:29 pm: Did google maps say 0.2 miles to the next turn or 0.7. Maybe I should have written that down... No, it was definitely 0.2 and I have driven much further than that already. Maybe I'll just turn around and look for Lancon Rd. Maybe there are two roads - one Lacon and one Lancon. They were really stupid naming two roads such similar names!
6:32 pm: I opt for my GPS since I can't find Lancon Rd. It tells me that I should have turned on Lacon Rd. So maybe I was the stupid one.
6:34 pm: I double back and realize that it was 0.7 miles not 0.2 miles and I turned around one street before my turn. It's okay, I'll only be about 5 minutes late.
6:35 pm: I am 5 minutes late, there are no balloons on the mailbox and there are no other cars in the street. Was this a surprise baby shower or something? Should I be parking someplace else? Aren't there always balloons on the mailbox? I don't even recognize the house from the 3 other times I have been here. Did they move since the directory was printed? Maybe I'll just sit in my car until I see someone else walk into the house.
6:37 pm: Still sitting in my car. Surely someone else is late and will walk into the house soon.
6:38 pm: I feel stupid just sitting in my car in front of a random house. Maybe I should rummage through my purse some to make my delay in exiting my vehicle more convincing.
6:39 pm: Lip gloss! I'll apply lip gloss! That has to take at least a minute - surely someone will arrive in the next minute!
6:40 pm: I have spent one full minute applying lip gloss. My mouth feels like a slip and slide, no one else has arrived at the house, and now I am 10 minutes late. Another thought occurs to me: I shouldn't be sitting out here because if it is a surprise I don't want to blow the surprise by sitting in my car in front of the party.
6:41 pm: I buck up, grab the present from my passenger seat and walk to the front door.
6:41 and 30 seconds: I ring the doorbell. A 10 year old girl answers. This is unexpected - a grown-up in party gear should have answered and directed me where to put the gift. She doesn't say anything to me so I say, "Is this where the shower is at?" She continues looking at me not saying anything. Wait, do 10 year olds know what a baby shower is if you just call it a shower? Does she think I am talking about a literal shower? Did I just creep out a 10 year old by asking her about a shower at her house? She continues to look very confused so I say, "I guess not!" and quickly retreat to my car.
6:43 pm: I pull my cell phone out of my purse and realize that last night when I discovered it wasn't charged I thought, "Oh, I'll just charge it the next time I get up." and then didn't. My cell phone is dead, I am the creepy person who just asked a child about taking a shower at their house and I still have no idea where the shower is actually at.
6:44 pm: I decide that I probably shouldn't stay parked in front of this person's house so I just start driving. Maybe they did move. I bet I can back track and figure out how to get to their house if I drive from the south. However, I'm not sure how to get to the south.
6:52 pm: By winding through many roads I have finally found the road that we usually take. Okay, now all I have to do is drive in the general direction, I will recognize the turns that I have to make, I will find their neighborhood and then all I have to do is look for balloons on a mailbox! I may be a half hour late but this should be a piece of cake.
7:02 pm: My plan has already failed. Apparently I shouldn't have made the hubs drive to their house every time because I didn't recognize the turn. I have now hit a dead end and I am several miles away from my starting point and in the country. All that is around me are corn fields and farm houses.
7:06 pm: I have made a couple more turns and realize that I am lost and I am not going to be able to find their house by "winging it." I start heading home
7:08 pm: I have done a couple of calculations - I don't quite know where I am at but I figure that I am greater than 15 minutes from home. They live greater than 15 minutes away from me. It will probably take me about 10 minutes to find their actual address and then make a map. That means that I probably have no chance of getting to the shower until 8:00 pm. It started at 6:30 pm. Is 1.5 hours inappropriately late?
7:29 pm: I arrive at home defeated. The hubs comes out to the garage because he can't figure out why it would open on it's own and then I have to admit the whole story to him. The whole time I am talking the poodle is jumping up and down seeking my attention. At least the dog is happy to see me.
8:04 pm: I have put on my pajamas. I have also gotten onto facebook and sent my apologies for not being at the party. This evening didn't go as planned, but the hubs is just finishing up his work for the day and he and I will spend the rest of our evening together. This is a comedy of errors that has been salvaged into an okay night.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
My new love of road trips
I have never been one for road trips. If you are someone that I went on a road trip with at some point in my life and you are reading this please don't be offended - I just don't have a great love for riding all day (or for some trips many days) in a car. I also don't enjoy flying all that much and could do without being crammed in my 18"x34" cell and using a bathroom after 30 other people including a large aromatic man. However, since I met the hubs I have developed a newfound love for road trips.
Our early road trips weren't far - we would drive 1 hour to visit my mom, 2.5 hours to visit his parents or 3 or 4 hours for a friends wedding - but it was during those "dates" (yes, I consider them to be very romantic dates - sans wine and mixed drinks for obvious reasons) that we learned many of the nuances of each others personalities and began discussing our future together in detail.
The reason this is on my mind is that the hubs and I just spent 3 weeks together on the road. We had several people to see and a few tasks to complete. We would drive someplace, stay for 3-4 days and then go on to our next location with only 2 one-night hiatuses in our own bed. In total, we were probably in the car and in airports about 50-60 hours (that is just traveling to locations - there was extra time in the car within each stop pushing our total closer to 100 hours than to 50).
While we did spend some time independently of one another (I learned how to solve a rubix cube and he studied for Step 2 of the boards to get his medical license - we are so cool) most of the time we chatted about life. We discussed where we want to live, when we want to have kids, why our way of thinking is so superior to everyone else's (you can talk about that in the car because there is no way they can overhear you!). We even read a book together. This actually worked out quite well - the hubs doesn't like reading but likes audiobooks and I enjoy reading out loud. At the end of each chapter I would put the book down and we discussed what we read (this wasn't a John Grisham novel or anything - we were reading Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis, so it spurred on a lot of discussion).
It appears that gone are the days of my parents bribing me to be good on car trips with new toys (that I inevitably used as weapons by hitting my brother in the head with Barbie) and movies (we had one of those big conversion top vans with a TV and a VCR - this was before DVDs, and DVD screens in the back of driver and passenger seats, existed). Now instead of dreading miles of corn fields and mountains I simply thank God for the fact that I get uninterupted time with my husband.
Our early road trips weren't far - we would drive 1 hour to visit my mom, 2.5 hours to visit his parents or 3 or 4 hours for a friends wedding - but it was during those "dates" (yes, I consider them to be very romantic dates - sans wine and mixed drinks for obvious reasons) that we learned many of the nuances of each others personalities and began discussing our future together in detail.
The reason this is on my mind is that the hubs and I just spent 3 weeks together on the road. We had several people to see and a few tasks to complete. We would drive someplace, stay for 3-4 days and then go on to our next location with only 2 one-night hiatuses in our own bed. In total, we were probably in the car and in airports about 50-60 hours (that is just traveling to locations - there was extra time in the car within each stop pushing our total closer to 100 hours than to 50).
While we did spend some time independently of one another (I learned how to solve a rubix cube and he studied for Step 2 of the boards to get his medical license - we are so cool) most of the time we chatted about life. We discussed where we want to live, when we want to have kids, why our way of thinking is so superior to everyone else's (you can talk about that in the car because there is no way they can overhear you!). We even read a book together. This actually worked out quite well - the hubs doesn't like reading but likes audiobooks and I enjoy reading out loud. At the end of each chapter I would put the book down and we discussed what we read (this wasn't a John Grisham novel or anything - we were reading Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis, so it spurred on a lot of discussion).
It appears that gone are the days of my parents bribing me to be good on car trips with new toys (that I inevitably used as weapons by hitting my brother in the head with Barbie) and movies (we had one of those big conversion top vans with a TV and a VCR - this was before DVDs, and DVD screens in the back of driver and passenger seats, existed). Now instead of dreading miles of corn fields and mountains I simply thank God for the fact that I get uninterupted time with my husband.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
My husband is not a body pillow
Of all of the challenges that I knew I would face entering marriage, I didn't think that sleeping would be one of them. I had grand visions back in high school of how lovely it would be to snuggle up with my honey for bedtime. I would lay down with my body pillow Johnny (named after Johnny Depp of course) and imagine cuddling under my husbands shoulder, laying my hand on his chest and laying my leg over his body. Then I started sharing a bed with the hubs and all of those visions of cuddly splendor went away.
This isn't to say that I dislike sleeping in the same bed as the hubs - I enjoy it very much and it is one of the wonderful benefits of marriage - but it isn't as natural and easy as I thought sleep would be. There are many reasons why this is more challenging than I first anticipated:
1. People take up space. This may not come as a big shock to you, but for some reason I was surprised by this. I went from sleeping in my very own queen sized bed to having to share the same amount of space. While I realize that I only take up about 1/2 of the bed when I completely spread out I like taking my half out of the middle. Unfortunately the hubs and the poodle also both like using the middle half.
2. People move. The hubs doesn't roll over too much in his sleep. He sleeps on his back pretty much the whole night. But for some reason, about a half an hour after he falls asleep, he puts his hand on his forehead. This wouldn't be a big deal except every 15 seconds or so his hand slips off of his forehead and he jerks his hand back into place so it can slide off again. This is pretty loud in the deep dark night. Just imagine somebody rubbing their hands through their hair quickly just 12 inches from your head.
3. People generate heat. During the winter this is actually a nice feature of the hubs. However he has a very fast metabolism and during the 90-100 degree nights of summer this is very unpleasant. We also have different blanket preferences. I tend to get cold much more often than him. Even if we both agree on using the sheet, I will pull the comforter up over myself when I get chilled. However the comforter spans the whole bed and gets pulled up over the hubs. He then will throw his half over me and then I am too warm because I am covered with a sheet and a double layer of comforter. Temperature regulation is quite a problem.
The greatest conundrum of all of this is that when the hubs is on call and I am home alone I can't sleep. I have taken to sleeping on the couch because it feels less weird than sleeping in the bed by myself. Maybe I should invest in another body pillow for those nights on call and go back to pretending that people conform to the shape of my body, don't move and don't make heat.
This isn't to say that I dislike sleeping in the same bed as the hubs - I enjoy it very much and it is one of the wonderful benefits of marriage - but it isn't as natural and easy as I thought sleep would be. There are many reasons why this is more challenging than I first anticipated:
1. People take up space. This may not come as a big shock to you, but for some reason I was surprised by this. I went from sleeping in my very own queen sized bed to having to share the same amount of space. While I realize that I only take up about 1/2 of the bed when I completely spread out I like taking my half out of the middle. Unfortunately the hubs and the poodle also both like using the middle half.
2. People move. The hubs doesn't roll over too much in his sleep. He sleeps on his back pretty much the whole night. But for some reason, about a half an hour after he falls asleep, he puts his hand on his forehead. This wouldn't be a big deal except every 15 seconds or so his hand slips off of his forehead and he jerks his hand back into place so it can slide off again. This is pretty loud in the deep dark night. Just imagine somebody rubbing their hands through their hair quickly just 12 inches from your head.
3. People generate heat. During the winter this is actually a nice feature of the hubs. However he has a very fast metabolism and during the 90-100 degree nights of summer this is very unpleasant. We also have different blanket preferences. I tend to get cold much more often than him. Even if we both agree on using the sheet, I will pull the comforter up over myself when I get chilled. However the comforter spans the whole bed and gets pulled up over the hubs. He then will throw his half over me and then I am too warm because I am covered with a sheet and a double layer of comforter. Temperature regulation is quite a problem.
The greatest conundrum of all of this is that when the hubs is on call and I am home alone I can't sleep. I have taken to sleeping on the couch because it feels less weird than sleeping in the bed by myself. Maybe I should invest in another body pillow for those nights on call and go back to pretending that people conform to the shape of my body, don't move and don't make heat.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
A dog's life
It must be so easy being a dog. While my little toy poodle Simba has to struggle through life only knowing about 50 words in the English language and has to communicate his emotions through barking, he has a pretty charmed life. I walk him, I feed him, I pet him, he is allowed to sleep in our bed. And he takes advantage of all of these things.
Over the past couple of months he has decided that he doesn't like it when I try to sleep in. This is a problem because I am out of school right now and I enjoy sleeping in very much. However, I understand. The little guy hasn't been outside since the night before and has a full bladder. He decides at around 6:30 am that it is time for me to get up. I can usually convince him to sleep for another hour by covering my face up with the sheet and petting him until he lulls off into dream land. But after that hour the sheet has inevitably fallen off of my face and the dog has discovered that if he just licks my face I will wake up. At this point I try to get him to fall back asleep, but it's no use. He is awake and ready to go! We go downstairs and he is ready to go outside...or, much to my annoyance, to jump up on the living room couch and fall asleep again. Apparently it wasn't that he needed to go to the bathroom, he just wanted to change sleeping locations. It got worse a couple of nights ago. Apparently he woke the hubs up by licking his face at 1:30 am and 3:30 am. This is a big deal because the hubs doesn't get to sleep in like me - he had to wake up at 4:00 to go into the hospital for his ICU rotation. Of course, if I spent 20-21 hours/day sleeping I think I would want to wake up at 3:30 too.
Simba is also a little bit of a yipper (he's a toy poodle, so I guess that comes with the breed). The ultimate punishment in our home is the squirt gun. Right now I know he can't see anything from the sliding glass door except for leaves shaking in the trees, but he is ultimately finding that those are worth yipping at. We were thinking about buying a bark collar, but decided we didn't want to zap our dog into submission. Then we decided that a squirt gun might be a better option. It's really nice because when he is barking he won't respond to us yelling no. Before the squirt gun came along we had to go and pick him up in order for him to listen. We may be lazy "parents" but this got really old really fast. Now, with the squirt gun, I can squirt him from any window he is able to see out of from my couch. I don't know what is so horrible about water, but Simba avoids it like the plague (I set him on a pool float yesterday that had a little puddle of water in the middle - when his foot touched the water he jerked it back and panicked). When he starts barking I don't even have to squirt him. I just shake the gun with water in it and he stops barking.
When that little white fuzzball jumps up on my lap and rolls over onto his back to have his belly scratched at the end of a long day of sleeping and barking I forgive him for all of his annoyance and am so happy that I finally have a dog.
Over the past couple of months he has decided that he doesn't like it when I try to sleep in. This is a problem because I am out of school right now and I enjoy sleeping in very much. However, I understand. The little guy hasn't been outside since the night before and has a full bladder. He decides at around 6:30 am that it is time for me to get up. I can usually convince him to sleep for another hour by covering my face up with the sheet and petting him until he lulls off into dream land. But after that hour the sheet has inevitably fallen off of my face and the dog has discovered that if he just licks my face I will wake up. At this point I try to get him to fall back asleep, but it's no use. He is awake and ready to go! We go downstairs and he is ready to go outside...or, much to my annoyance, to jump up on the living room couch and fall asleep again. Apparently it wasn't that he needed to go to the bathroom, he just wanted to change sleeping locations. It got worse a couple of nights ago. Apparently he woke the hubs up by licking his face at 1:30 am and 3:30 am. This is a big deal because the hubs doesn't get to sleep in like me - he had to wake up at 4:00 to go into the hospital for his ICU rotation. Of course, if I spent 20-21 hours/day sleeping I think I would want to wake up at 3:30 too.
Simba is also a little bit of a yipper (he's a toy poodle, so I guess that comes with the breed). The ultimate punishment in our home is the squirt gun. Right now I know he can't see anything from the sliding glass door except for leaves shaking in the trees, but he is ultimately finding that those are worth yipping at. We were thinking about buying a bark collar, but decided we didn't want to zap our dog into submission. Then we decided that a squirt gun might be a better option. It's really nice because when he is barking he won't respond to us yelling no. Before the squirt gun came along we had to go and pick him up in order for him to listen. We may be lazy "parents" but this got really old really fast. Now, with the squirt gun, I can squirt him from any window he is able to see out of from my couch. I don't know what is so horrible about water, but Simba avoids it like the plague (I set him on a pool float yesterday that had a little puddle of water in the middle - when his foot touched the water he jerked it back and panicked). When he starts barking I don't even have to squirt him. I just shake the gun with water in it and he stops barking.
When that little white fuzzball jumps up on my lap and rolls over onto his back to have his belly scratched at the end of a long day of sleeping and barking I forgive him for all of his annoyance and am so happy that I finally have a dog.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
It's only $875,000, so affordable!
I'm watching daytime TV right now. I haven't done this in a really long time and I am now remembering why I both love and hate it. The first show that I watched today showed me how to do affordable at-home manicures and hair conditioning. I learned that with a half a grape, a teaspoon of sugar and a teaspoon of oil I can revitalize my finger nails and cuticles. I found out that using an avocado and a banana, mashed together, I could create my own conditioner to revitalize my hair. Imagine my delight when I found out that I had all of these beauty supplies right in my kitchen! I know how I'm going to spend my afternoon.
Then came the hate part of my love-hate relationship with daytime TV. The View came on. Now, I think these ladies tend to be a bit off their rockers. They are all very polarized and are not very relatable. I'm a little bit liberal (I voted for Obama) but these ladies embarrass me almost as much as Rush Limbaugh would embarrass me if I called myself a republican. I was mostly happy with their program this morning however (they stayed away from politics and interviewed Jackie Chan and Jaden Smith about the Karate Kid). Then I got really excited because they said they were going to talk about the upswing of the housing market (Oh goodie! I have to sell my house in the next couple of years! This is fabulous news!). My excitement turned quickly to disgust when I saw the "wonderful examples" that they came up with. The first home was in Tacoma, Washington and cost about $500,000. Okay...the ladies were frustrating me because they said, "Wow!!! That is such a great deal!" But I realize that Tacoma is near Seattle and is on the coast. That would make it a little bit more expensive. One of the next homes they showed was in Pittsburgh! Yay! That is one of the cities that the hubs and I are thinking of living in! This will be great! Their thrifty home example...$375,000. Now I was pissed. This is the midwest and most people don't pay that much for homes. I was just disgusted by yet another example of how disconnected hollywood is from the rest of the nation.
The next segment was about TJ Maxx and Marshalls. I LOVE those stores! However, I became disappointed yet again when I realized that each of their great deals for outfits cost over $300. I don't even spend $300 on my outfit when I go to a formal event. I even go to the sales rack when I hit up Old Navy. Sometimes I find a shirt for $10 and don't buy it because I don't think it is worth it. And I have no idea what Marshalls the fashion person from the View was shopping at, but the last time I went there I bought a fabulous shirt for $7.
I think it may be time to turn off the TV and go read a book instead.
Then came the hate part of my love-hate relationship with daytime TV. The View came on. Now, I think these ladies tend to be a bit off their rockers. They are all very polarized and are not very relatable. I'm a little bit liberal (I voted for Obama) but these ladies embarrass me almost as much as Rush Limbaugh would embarrass me if I called myself a republican. I was mostly happy with their program this morning however (they stayed away from politics and interviewed Jackie Chan and Jaden Smith about the Karate Kid). Then I got really excited because they said they were going to talk about the upswing of the housing market (Oh goodie! I have to sell my house in the next couple of years! This is fabulous news!). My excitement turned quickly to disgust when I saw the "wonderful examples" that they came up with. The first home was in Tacoma, Washington and cost about $500,000. Okay...the ladies were frustrating me because they said, "Wow!!! That is such a great deal!" But I realize that Tacoma is near Seattle and is on the coast. That would make it a little bit more expensive. One of the next homes they showed was in Pittsburgh! Yay! That is one of the cities that the hubs and I are thinking of living in! This will be great! Their thrifty home example...$375,000. Now I was pissed. This is the midwest and most people don't pay that much for homes. I was just disgusted by yet another example of how disconnected hollywood is from the rest of the nation.
The next segment was about TJ Maxx and Marshalls. I LOVE those stores! However, I became disappointed yet again when I realized that each of their great deals for outfits cost over $300. I don't even spend $300 on my outfit when I go to a formal event. I even go to the sales rack when I hit up Old Navy. Sometimes I find a shirt for $10 and don't buy it because I don't think it is worth it. And I have no idea what Marshalls the fashion person from the View was shopping at, but the last time I went there I bought a fabulous shirt for $7.
I think it may be time to turn off the TV and go read a book instead.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Gun Shy
I feel like the only person who gets into more sticky situations than me is Jack Ryan (the hubs and I watched Patriot Games last night). That may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I've had my share of bad luck. Back in college I remember thinking I was invincible (like most college students). I would speed a bit more than I should, drink coffee and take no-doz like there was no tomorrow the day before a test (and most of the rest of the time), and would walk outside by myself at 3 am when I finally decided it was time to leave the science hall and give in to sleep.
Events from the last few years have changed this. The speeding was remedied by two speeding tickets and the excessive caffeine by graduating from college, but the walking outside at night took an oversees trip and my seemingly safe city of residence to remedy.
When I was in Europe back in 2007 with my friend Tiff I had a great time and got to experience so many new and exciting things. Included in this was a mean dog that tried to attack us on the way back to our hostel (fortunately a taxi was driving by, we ran out into the street, jumped in and then drove the 2 blocks back to our hostel), and 3 people who attempted to rob me. The first was on one of the rare times that Tiff and I parted ways for the day (Tiff and I love each other but realize that sometimes our friendship is better when we take a day away from each other). I decided to sit down on a bench and eat my dinner. This was a rare treat because most benches that we found were owned by restaurants and you had to order food in order to rent your space on their bench. I had gotten dinner from a grocery store (we traveled economically) so had no need to order food. I was used to eating while sitting on a curb, but found a wonderful oasis of the non-restaurant owned bench in the middle of the city. I was leisurely eating my dinner when two children sat down next to me and casually reached for my purse. I grabbed it before they got it and no harm was done.
The next time one of the locals decided to try to fool a stupid tourist was in Naples. Tiffany and I had been told not to go there - it is dangerous and dirty. We spent a total of 1 hour and 5 minutes in the city. The 5 minutes occurred in a train station on our first trip through Naples to a near-by resort town. In the 5 minutes it took for us to change trains I saw someone mugged on the other train platform. Fortunately we didn't have to hang around and wait for the mugger to find us because our train arrived. The hour we spent in Naples was when we passed back through on our way north. We had an hour to spend in the city (at least it was day and not night as was our previous Naples experience) between train rides and decided it would be an opportune time to grab lunch since the only thing you could get on the train was an overpriced proscutto sandwich. A local approached us while we were eating to ask us for change (aka get us to open our wallets for 1 euro and then steal all of our money). Fortunately we just said we didn't understand and then left to board our train.
The final robbery attempt occurred on the steps of the Duomo in Florence. I was sitting there with my purse underneath my legs when Tiff told me that someone was reaching under me. I looked down just before the man was able to grab my purse, I grabbed it instead an yelled at him fueled with rage and 1 or 2 beers.
Then I came back to America. I wasn't too phased by my European experiences. Doesn't everyone get robbed in Europe at some point? However, the target was not removed from my back when I moved to my current city. Within 2 months of living here I was mugged at gunpoint (thankfully he was a small-time mugger and only wanted my cash...I got to keep my ID and credit cards and didn't have to reset those parts of my life). Things were pretty calm for about 1.5-2 years until I was shopping downtown in the middle of the afternoon and I heard someone yell "Hey red!" I am aware of the fact that only 2-4% of the population has red hair so I assumed that this voice was referring to me. I made the mistake of looking up to see a homeless man sitting on the steps of a church across the street. I hurried into a nearby store, wandered the aisles until I thought I got the guts up to go back outside. I mean, someone yelling "Hey red" is pretty harmless isn't it? Just in case it wasn't harmless, however, I got my keys in my hands. I wasn't going to turn into one of those suspense/horror movie characters who can't find their keys or who fumbles with their keys and drops them just as the antagonist reaches their car. And yes, I did need a key to enter my car. I am not one of the lucky car owners who also has a remote to unlock my car. As I was approaching my car, trying to appear nonchalant although my pulse was racing at a cardio fat burning rate, the man stood up, took a moment to grab his garbage bag of possessions, and then headed for my car. I picked up my pace, thankful that my keys were already in my hand, started running when I was almost to my car and got in and locked my car just as the homeless man reached me. Then I cried and drove away as fast as I could.
I resolved not to go downtown by myself anymore. I figured that as long as I hung around my home I would be fine. Then came the morning, less than 2 months after the homeless man incident, when a man tried to break into my house. I was still in bed, wasting time on my laptop, when I heard someone ring the doorbell several times and knock. I thought, "Wow. That UPS man is really insistent!" I was still in my jammy-jams so I decided to put off opening the door and to wait until his truck pulled away. I peeked out through the blinds, but there was no UPS truck. "I guess it must have been someone campaigning." So I went back up to continue doing nothing on the computer. However, as I got into my bedroom I looked out the second story window down onto a man in camouflage investigating my back yard. I still liked to think the best of people though, so I ducked down so he couldn't see me and thought "I wonder if he lost his dog and is looking for it on my back porch. That would explain the excited doorbell ringing. I know I would be going out of my mind if I lost a lovable little dog!" So I called my dad and said, "There is a strange man in my back yard. Should I call the police?" He said yes, I called and then the man came back to my front door and started banging on it while I was talking to the 911 operator. Thankfully the man decided that my house was too secure and decided to break in to my next door neighbor's house (he was able to pop one of their doors open with just a screwdriver). The police came, the burglar got spooked mid-burglary (as was evident when we went over to their house, saw he had only had a chance to rummage through 2 drawers before escaping into the woods and leaving the side door of the house standing wide open) since he could see the police in the street from the living room that he was in the process of burgling. After that I did not leave our house, unless the hubs was home, for about 3 weeks. Then we got a dog, a dog that feels the need to pee every few hours, and the healing began. Although, I still refuse to answer the door if I am home by myself. And I figured out how to use a gun and invested in some pepper spray.
Why is all this relevant? Well, the hubs is a 4th year medical student and we are trying to figure out where he should do his residency. While I think it would make us hipper people if we decided to live downtown someplace I have a rule. Although I realize that no place is 100% safe, I don't want to live within walking distance of a bar. Alcohol can make people do stupid things, as evidenced by my running after and yelling at that man who tried to steal my purse in Florence, Italy.
Events from the last few years have changed this. The speeding was remedied by two speeding tickets and the excessive caffeine by graduating from college, but the walking outside at night took an oversees trip and my seemingly safe city of residence to remedy.
When I was in Europe back in 2007 with my friend Tiff I had a great time and got to experience so many new and exciting things. Included in this was a mean dog that tried to attack us on the way back to our hostel (fortunately a taxi was driving by, we ran out into the street, jumped in and then drove the 2 blocks back to our hostel), and 3 people who attempted to rob me. The first was on one of the rare times that Tiff and I parted ways for the day (Tiff and I love each other but realize that sometimes our friendship is better when we take a day away from each other). I decided to sit down on a bench and eat my dinner. This was a rare treat because most benches that we found were owned by restaurants and you had to order food in order to rent your space on their bench. I had gotten dinner from a grocery store (we traveled economically) so had no need to order food. I was used to eating while sitting on a curb, but found a wonderful oasis of the non-restaurant owned bench in the middle of the city. I was leisurely eating my dinner when two children sat down next to me and casually reached for my purse. I grabbed it before they got it and no harm was done.
The next time one of the locals decided to try to fool a stupid tourist was in Naples. Tiffany and I had been told not to go there - it is dangerous and dirty. We spent a total of 1 hour and 5 minutes in the city. The 5 minutes occurred in a train station on our first trip through Naples to a near-by resort town. In the 5 minutes it took for us to change trains I saw someone mugged on the other train platform. Fortunately we didn't have to hang around and wait for the mugger to find us because our train arrived. The hour we spent in Naples was when we passed back through on our way north. We had an hour to spend in the city (at least it was day and not night as was our previous Naples experience) between train rides and decided it would be an opportune time to grab lunch since the only thing you could get on the train was an overpriced proscutto sandwich. A local approached us while we were eating to ask us for change (aka get us to open our wallets for 1 euro and then steal all of our money). Fortunately we just said we didn't understand and then left to board our train.
The final robbery attempt occurred on the steps of the Duomo in Florence. I was sitting there with my purse underneath my legs when Tiff told me that someone was reaching under me. I looked down just before the man was able to grab my purse, I grabbed it instead an yelled at him fueled with rage and 1 or 2 beers.
Then I came back to America. I wasn't too phased by my European experiences. Doesn't everyone get robbed in Europe at some point? However, the target was not removed from my back when I moved to my current city. Within 2 months of living here I was mugged at gunpoint (thankfully he was a small-time mugger and only wanted my cash...I got to keep my ID and credit cards and didn't have to reset those parts of my life). Things were pretty calm for about 1.5-2 years until I was shopping downtown in the middle of the afternoon and I heard someone yell "Hey red!" I am aware of the fact that only 2-4% of the population has red hair so I assumed that this voice was referring to me. I made the mistake of looking up to see a homeless man sitting on the steps of a church across the street. I hurried into a nearby store, wandered the aisles until I thought I got the guts up to go back outside. I mean, someone yelling "Hey red" is pretty harmless isn't it? Just in case it wasn't harmless, however, I got my keys in my hands. I wasn't going to turn into one of those suspense/horror movie characters who can't find their keys or who fumbles with their keys and drops them just as the antagonist reaches their car. And yes, I did need a key to enter my car. I am not one of the lucky car owners who also has a remote to unlock my car. As I was approaching my car, trying to appear nonchalant although my pulse was racing at a cardio fat burning rate, the man stood up, took a moment to grab his garbage bag of possessions, and then headed for my car. I picked up my pace, thankful that my keys were already in my hand, started running when I was almost to my car and got in and locked my car just as the homeless man reached me. Then I cried and drove away as fast as I could.
I resolved not to go downtown by myself anymore. I figured that as long as I hung around my home I would be fine. Then came the morning, less than 2 months after the homeless man incident, when a man tried to break into my house. I was still in bed, wasting time on my laptop, when I heard someone ring the doorbell several times and knock. I thought, "Wow. That UPS man is really insistent!" I was still in my jammy-jams so I decided to put off opening the door and to wait until his truck pulled away. I peeked out through the blinds, but there was no UPS truck. "I guess it must have been someone campaigning." So I went back up to continue doing nothing on the computer. However, as I got into my bedroom I looked out the second story window down onto a man in camouflage investigating my back yard. I still liked to think the best of people though, so I ducked down so he couldn't see me and thought "I wonder if he lost his dog and is looking for it on my back porch. That would explain the excited doorbell ringing. I know I would be going out of my mind if I lost a lovable little dog!" So I called my dad and said, "There is a strange man in my back yard. Should I call the police?" He said yes, I called and then the man came back to my front door and started banging on it while I was talking to the 911 operator. Thankfully the man decided that my house was too secure and decided to break in to my next door neighbor's house (he was able to pop one of their doors open with just a screwdriver). The police came, the burglar got spooked mid-burglary (as was evident when we went over to their house, saw he had only had a chance to rummage through 2 drawers before escaping into the woods and leaving the side door of the house standing wide open) since he could see the police in the street from the living room that he was in the process of burgling. After that I did not leave our house, unless the hubs was home, for about 3 weeks. Then we got a dog, a dog that feels the need to pee every few hours, and the healing began. Although, I still refuse to answer the door if I am home by myself. And I figured out how to use a gun and invested in some pepper spray.
Why is all this relevant? Well, the hubs is a 4th year medical student and we are trying to figure out where he should do his residency. While I think it would make us hipper people if we decided to live downtown someplace I have a rule. Although I realize that no place is 100% safe, I don't want to live within walking distance of a bar. Alcohol can make people do stupid things, as evidenced by my running after and yelling at that man who tried to steal my purse in Florence, Italy.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Our dog: pet and family member
I have an 8 pound toy poodle named Simba. I had wanted to get a dog ever since I graduated from college and began graduate school 3 years ago, but my boyfriend/fiance/husband (progressing over the course of those 3 years) was not convinced. Granted, having a dog is hard work. You have to walk them, bathe them, feed them, etc. I made a solemn vow to the hubs that I would do everything to care for our dog and he wouldn't have to lift a finger. He, however, pointed out that, although I see myself as being extremely ambitious, I tend to get about half way through a project and then set it to the side and not finish it (I have about 5 unfinished scarves hanging on knitting needles, 40 sets of wine charms that I have crafted that have not been posted on etsy or ebay, and a pile of scrapbooking supplies for our wedding from last summer with no actual wedding scrapbook). With a dog that results in death and then animal abuse charges and jail time. I also haven't ever been able to keep a plant alive (it's not that I neglect them - it's because I love them too much. You can over water a plant, but a dog will stop drinking before water toxicity).
Surprisingly the impetus that led to our getting a dog was when a man in fatigues tried to break into our house last summer (I'll give more information about this sometime in the future and explain why I have no desire to venture into big cities). The hubs was a medical student and had to be away from the house pretty often to be on call. I told the hubs that I wanted a dog to protect me from future invaders. I began by looking at large dogs online, but the hypoallergenic breed that I wanted (goldendoodles) cost about $2000. Finally, I stumbled across a teensy cloud of poodle on craigslist that only cost $50. It was kind of difficult explaining to the hubs how a then 6.5 pound malnourished toy poodle could protect me from burglars, but in the end I prevailed.
Owning a dog has helped us to learn new facets about each other. This is mostly because the hubs and I entered this endeavor with different views regarding dogs. I grew up with 3 shih tzus who were a part of my family. My mom called me the dogs' sister and she was their mom. We fed them top quality food (which used to be dog food but my mom has since switched to feeding the last of the three dogs Sara Lee Deli Meat because of his chronic pancreatitis), provided them plenty of toys, and let them sleep in our beds. The only time that they went outside was to go to the bathroom or for the occasional walk. They went to the vet every time they had a sniffle or a sore.
The hubs' family owned hunting beagles. The dogs lived outside (I don't believe any dogs should live outside), ate scraps (including bones which can cause major intestinal problems), slobbered, rolled in the dirt and were, in general, gross. The dogs would sometimes escape into the woods when they got free from their post (if one of my dogs ran away I would not be able to sleep until they returned home safely). Instead of going to the vet they would live by the philosophy of "rub some dirt in it."
Simba has changed the way that the hubs has seen dogs, and the rules that we initially established quickly dissolved. The first issue we had is that we were immediately faced with a $500 dental cleaning/booster shot bill from the vet, followed shortly thereafter with a $200 neutering bill (after Simba tried to get it on with a professor's dog). This was followed by approximately $350 in bills for an ear infection that wouldn't go away. Next was the issue of table scraps. We decided when we got Simba that he should eat a 100% dog food diet. That lasted all of 3 weeks until we discovered that if you feed him nothing he will pester you the entire meal, whereas if you feed him your last bite he will sit patiently knowing that his reward is coming. Finally was the issue of the cage. My dogs were never caged growing up. For the first week that we had Simba, the hubs insisted that he be in the cage every time we left the house since we didn't know if he would chew on things or leave us little gifts. After a week I decided that I felt like a meanie every time I put the dog in the cage so then we transitioned to only putting him in the cage to sleep. Within a month, however, we felt bad that we left him home alone so much so we decided to let him sleep in our bed to make up for our absence throughout the day.
Since then we (I) have bought him a rhinestone dog tag, a dog purse so he can go into stores with me, specialty dog treats and several other toys. He sleeps in our bed, eats some table scraps (which may have aided in his 1.5 pound weight gain), naps on the back of the couch during the day, has his own plane ticket for a trip that we are going to take this summer, and gets his belly scratched for a good half an hour every evening. When I want the dog to go find the hubs I say "Go find daddy!" to which the hubs responds "He's a dog, not our child." Then I say, "Don't be ridiculous." and we scratch Simba's belly.
He may not be a very good guard dog, but I feel better knowing that he is here and that he is a member of our family.
Surprisingly the impetus that led to our getting a dog was when a man in fatigues tried to break into our house last summer (I'll give more information about this sometime in the future and explain why I have no desire to venture into big cities). The hubs was a medical student and had to be away from the house pretty often to be on call. I told the hubs that I wanted a dog to protect me from future invaders. I began by looking at large dogs online, but the hypoallergenic breed that I wanted (goldendoodles) cost about $2000. Finally, I stumbled across a teensy cloud of poodle on craigslist that only cost $50. It was kind of difficult explaining to the hubs how a then 6.5 pound malnourished toy poodle could protect me from burglars, but in the end I prevailed.
Owning a dog has helped us to learn new facets about each other. This is mostly because the hubs and I entered this endeavor with different views regarding dogs. I grew up with 3 shih tzus who were a part of my family. My mom called me the dogs' sister and she was their mom. We fed them top quality food (which used to be dog food but my mom has since switched to feeding the last of the three dogs Sara Lee Deli Meat because of his chronic pancreatitis), provided them plenty of toys, and let them sleep in our beds. The only time that they went outside was to go to the bathroom or for the occasional walk. They went to the vet every time they had a sniffle or a sore.
The hubs' family owned hunting beagles. The dogs lived outside (I don't believe any dogs should live outside), ate scraps (including bones which can cause major intestinal problems), slobbered, rolled in the dirt and were, in general, gross. The dogs would sometimes escape into the woods when they got free from their post (if one of my dogs ran away I would not be able to sleep until they returned home safely). Instead of going to the vet they would live by the philosophy of "rub some dirt in it."
Simba has changed the way that the hubs has seen dogs, and the rules that we initially established quickly dissolved. The first issue we had is that we were immediately faced with a $500 dental cleaning/booster shot bill from the vet, followed shortly thereafter with a $200 neutering bill (after Simba tried to get it on with a professor's dog). This was followed by approximately $350 in bills for an ear infection that wouldn't go away. Next was the issue of table scraps. We decided when we got Simba that he should eat a 100% dog food diet. That lasted all of 3 weeks until we discovered that if you feed him nothing he will pester you the entire meal, whereas if you feed him your last bite he will sit patiently knowing that his reward is coming. Finally was the issue of the cage. My dogs were never caged growing up. For the first week that we had Simba, the hubs insisted that he be in the cage every time we left the house since we didn't know if he would chew on things or leave us little gifts. After a week I decided that I felt like a meanie every time I put the dog in the cage so then we transitioned to only putting him in the cage to sleep. Within a month, however, we felt bad that we left him home alone so much so we decided to let him sleep in our bed to make up for our absence throughout the day.
Since then we (I) have bought him a rhinestone dog tag, a dog purse so he can go into stores with me, specialty dog treats and several other toys. He sleeps in our bed, eats some table scraps (which may have aided in his 1.5 pound weight gain), naps on the back of the couch during the day, has his own plane ticket for a trip that we are going to take this summer, and gets his belly scratched for a good half an hour every evening. When I want the dog to go find the hubs I say "Go find daddy!" to which the hubs responds "He's a dog, not our child." Then I say, "Don't be ridiculous." and we scratch Simba's belly.
He may not be a very good guard dog, but I feel better knowing that he is here and that he is a member of our family.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Poetry: I'm not a poet, and I know it, and I'm okay with that
I am getting ready to admit something that I have been trying to deny for years. I don't get poetry. I don't. I read poems. I try to be cultured. I pretend to understand them. I try to see them with emotion and great insight. But I don't understand them.
My interactions with poetry began in junior high. At that point my best friend (Katie) and I were going to start a Christian rock band (we both attended a private Christian school, I read Contemporary Christian Music Magazine, my radio was always set to the Christian music station). We were so cool. Actually, she was cool, I wasn't. A girl in our class made a list of the popular people in our class, the normal people and the unpopular people. There were only two people on the unpopular list, and I was one of them. But I digress. Katie and I thought we were the salt to the world's french fries. Life would be so much better for everyone if only they could hear our music. The problem was we didn't have any music. We only had a concept. And that concept was that we wanted to be famous Christian singers (does that exist) and we wanted the name of our group to be True Peace (with our symbol being a circle with a cross in it...like a peace sign but not).
Next step: write songs. In moments of great passion I would take pen to paper and write out my intense teenage thoughts and feelings. 5 minutes later I would have my lyrics. All that was left to have a song was to write music! Then a problem arose. The only instrument that I played was the flute. Hmmm...that's not very rock star-ish. Katie played miniscule amounts of piano, so she would have to be the creative genius behind our music. As you can tell by the description of my song writing we were bound to fail. Between the two of us we were able to write part of one song (that thinking back was entirely written by Katie) and several horrible lyrics. I submitted one poem that I wrote for a literary scholarship and they said they couldn't give me money but they wanted to publish it...I still have no idea why that one was okay and the others weren't.
My next interactions with poetry were in college. I believed myself to be well read while in small town Ohio, but as I ventured out into the wide world of academia I realized that I was a small fish in a big pond and that I hadn't really read much. It was at this time that I met Jenna (someone who was, and still is, well read). Jenna was an English, pre-med major at our college. She took classes like "Emily Dickinson's Poems" (which inspired me to try to read the poems of Emily Dickinson...I saw something about a butterfly, a frog and a small bird, couldn't figure out what it actually meant and gave up) and "Contemporary Writers." I was always intrigued to find out about these classes, tried to be interested in the topics (I figured that all educated people should be interested in literature), but in the end could not wrap my mind around the information.
In an attempt to try to be plugged in to the literary scene at school I decided to purchase a copy of the literary magazine that was published yearly and contained essays and poems by students. I also purchased this item because Jenna had one of her poems chosen for the magazine. I still have that magazine sitting on my bookshelf next to my other unread books of poetry. I did read Jenna's poem - I thought it was pretty good (it was about doctors and I was a Biology major headed to medical school, so it clicked with me on that level). But I still didn't understand what made poetry good.
I remember that at about the same time that the literary magazine came out I sat down and talked to Jenna about how her poetry class was going. She had been under the assumption that poetry came during moments of frenzied, inspired writing (much like I attempted during my Christian rock band days in junior high), but her professor had explained that poetry was something that took time. It took many drafts. It is not something to be written in 5 minutes but something to be revised over the course of many sittings. I accepted this explanation because it made sense. People revise prose - why not poetry? Plus it gave me a way to rationalize (read cop out) about why my poetry wasn't any good (it's not that I'm not a good writer...it's that I didn't write enough drafts).
Since college I think I have written and kept one poem. I was bored in class one day (in a biology PhD program) and decided to write a satirical poem about my program. It wasn't eloquent. It didn't rhyme properly. It didn't have any kind of meter. But it was funny. For the first time in life other people really appreciated a poem that I wrote, so much so that it ended up on our class refrigerator. Also, interestingly enough, I wrote two drafts. The other poems that I have written since leaving college have been kind of embarrassing. I sit down thinking, "man, I should really write a poem." I write it (usually in 5 minutes with no second draft), read it, realize that it is bad and that I would be horrified if someone else actually read it. Then I proceed to destroy the evidence. First I scribble over the words (Why didn't I think to write this in pencil!). Then, since I am convinced that you can still see the words through the scribbles I write other random words over top of the scribbles and scribble over it again. Finally, the poem is torn up into tiny pieces and distributed into several trash cans.
I think my poetry days are over. Sometimes I see that someone has written a poem and posted it on facebook. Sometimes I read it, sometimes I don't, but I never know for sure if it's good or not. And I'm okay with that. I realize that I have other strengths (none of which would lend to the life of a Christian rock star).
My interactions with poetry began in junior high. At that point my best friend (Katie) and I were going to start a Christian rock band (we both attended a private Christian school, I read Contemporary Christian Music Magazine, my radio was always set to the Christian music station). We were so cool. Actually, she was cool, I wasn't. A girl in our class made a list of the popular people in our class, the normal people and the unpopular people. There were only two people on the unpopular list, and I was one of them. But I digress. Katie and I thought we were the salt to the world's french fries. Life would be so much better for everyone if only they could hear our music. The problem was we didn't have any music. We only had a concept. And that concept was that we wanted to be famous Christian singers (does that exist) and we wanted the name of our group to be True Peace (with our symbol being a circle with a cross in it...like a peace sign but not).
Next step: write songs. In moments of great passion I would take pen to paper and write out my intense teenage thoughts and feelings. 5 minutes later I would have my lyrics. All that was left to have a song was to write music! Then a problem arose. The only instrument that I played was the flute. Hmmm...that's not very rock star-ish. Katie played miniscule amounts of piano, so she would have to be the creative genius behind our music. As you can tell by the description of my song writing we were bound to fail. Between the two of us we were able to write part of one song (that thinking back was entirely written by Katie) and several horrible lyrics. I submitted one poem that I wrote for a literary scholarship and they said they couldn't give me money but they wanted to publish it...I still have no idea why that one was okay and the others weren't.
My next interactions with poetry were in college. I believed myself to be well read while in small town Ohio, but as I ventured out into the wide world of academia I realized that I was a small fish in a big pond and that I hadn't really read much. It was at this time that I met Jenna (someone who was, and still is, well read). Jenna was an English, pre-med major at our college. She took classes like "Emily Dickinson's Poems" (which inspired me to try to read the poems of Emily Dickinson...I saw something about a butterfly, a frog and a small bird, couldn't figure out what it actually meant and gave up) and "Contemporary Writers." I was always intrigued to find out about these classes, tried to be interested in the topics (I figured that all educated people should be interested in literature), but in the end could not wrap my mind around the information.
In an attempt to try to be plugged in to the literary scene at school I decided to purchase a copy of the literary magazine that was published yearly and contained essays and poems by students. I also purchased this item because Jenna had one of her poems chosen for the magazine. I still have that magazine sitting on my bookshelf next to my other unread books of poetry. I did read Jenna's poem - I thought it was pretty good (it was about doctors and I was a Biology major headed to medical school, so it clicked with me on that level). But I still didn't understand what made poetry good.
I remember that at about the same time that the literary magazine came out I sat down and talked to Jenna about how her poetry class was going. She had been under the assumption that poetry came during moments of frenzied, inspired writing (much like I attempted during my Christian rock band days in junior high), but her professor had explained that poetry was something that took time. It took many drafts. It is not something to be written in 5 minutes but something to be revised over the course of many sittings. I accepted this explanation because it made sense. People revise prose - why not poetry? Plus it gave me a way to rationalize (read cop out) about why my poetry wasn't any good (it's not that I'm not a good writer...it's that I didn't write enough drafts).
Since college I think I have written and kept one poem. I was bored in class one day (in a biology PhD program) and decided to write a satirical poem about my program. It wasn't eloquent. It didn't rhyme properly. It didn't have any kind of meter. But it was funny. For the first time in life other people really appreciated a poem that I wrote, so much so that it ended up on our class refrigerator. Also, interestingly enough, I wrote two drafts. The other poems that I have written since leaving college have been kind of embarrassing. I sit down thinking, "man, I should really write a poem." I write it (usually in 5 minutes with no second draft), read it, realize that it is bad and that I would be horrified if someone else actually read it. Then I proceed to destroy the evidence. First I scribble over the words (Why didn't I think to write this in pencil!). Then, since I am convinced that you can still see the words through the scribbles I write other random words over top of the scribbles and scribble over it again. Finally, the poem is torn up into tiny pieces and distributed into several trash cans.
I think my poetry days are over. Sometimes I see that someone has written a poem and posted it on facebook. Sometimes I read it, sometimes I don't, but I never know for sure if it's good or not. And I'm okay with that. I realize that I have other strengths (none of which would lend to the life of a Christian rock star).
Monday, June 21, 2010
Wedded Bliss
How could I start a blog named "Wedded Bliss and Other Stories" without having a first post called Wedded Bliss? My inspiration comes from the fact that I celebrated my 1 year wedding anniversary on Saturday by being a part of my dear friend Jenna's wedding. I have had a few people say, "Well, that's too bad that you had to spend your first anniversary at someone else's wedding." My response is that I loved it! What better way to celebrate than to see a good friend enter into the same covenant that the hubs and I entered into one year ago? Plus, it gave me a really good excuse to plan a mini vacation to Indianapolis and to throw in a few trips to fabulous restaurants on which we would not usually splurge.
This past year with the hubs has been the best year of my life. It has been difficult in so many ways (we are both students - he is in medical school and I am in graduate school), however it has been so much easier because we've been able to go through it together.
I don't mean to sugar coat things - we sometimes have fights or disagreements, but we are willing to compromise and ultimately have a desire to make each other happy. A marriage cannot work unless the other person is your first priority (yes, you have to put them before yourself). But the great thing is that I love him so much that this comes naturally (sometimes more or less naturally than other times).
I was reminded of something a few nights ago when I was at Jenna's shower. She asked for advice on marriage and while I didn't have advice per se I had an anecdote. Our pastor took us out to lunch a couple of months after we got married. He said that one of his favorite things about seeing newlyweds is finding out about the things that they are learning about each other in their new lives together. He asked me what I had learned about Keith. It took me a couple of days to think about this and to come up with a really good answer, but I shot our pastor an email a couple of days later with my answer. The hubs and I have extremely different opinions about the number of hangers one should own. I am of the firm belief that you should have about 15 extra hangers laying around. Then, even if you don't clean all of the hangers out of your closet you still won't run out when you are in the laundry room hanging up clothes fresh from the dryer. Also, if you go shopping and happen to buy a few new outfits, you already have the hangers at home to handle it. The hubs is of the opinion that you should own the same number of hangers as you own clothes. When I have "just enough" hangers, I get to the last 3 things in the dryer, can't find a hanger because they are located somewhere in the jungle of my closet, and then the clothes wrinkle by the time I give up on finding the hangers and just lay the clothes flat on the top of the washer and dryer until I wear 3 new items of clothing thus freeing up 3 new hangers. Of course, he is more organized than me and is prepared before he cleans out the dryer by going around to every closet and looking between every single piece of clothing to see which hangers are empty. He also has a theory that at any time, some clothes will be dirty or un-ironed so we could actually make due with less hangers than clothes. Sometimes I do all of the laundry and ironing in one day just to spite him.
The hubs and I compromised. He agreed that we could have more hangers (and since we bought more there has not been a single occasion during which all of our clothes have been washed - he probably made a good point when he said that there will always be some clothes in the laundry or ironing pile) as long as I agreed to load the dishwasher in his preferred way. Now, instead of loading all of the silverware handle-up, I load the forks handle-up and the spoons handle-down. The hubs is convinced that they get cleaner this way. I am convinced that even if they get cleaner in the washer that it is dirtier in the end because you are inevitably going to grab the spoon on the part you eat off of when you unload the dishwasher (be forwarned if you plan to dine at our house in the future).
I think that this can all be summed up nicely by something that I found on Jenna and her new husband Johnny's wedding website. They had a fun poll that you could take about their future lives together. One question was, "Will Johnny and Jenna kill each other living in a one-bedroom apartment?" The answer: "No. Because Jenna will make the bed (even though she doesn't care) to make Johnny happy."
This past year with the hubs has been the best year of my life. It has been difficult in so many ways (we are both students - he is in medical school and I am in graduate school), however it has been so much easier because we've been able to go through it together.
I don't mean to sugar coat things - we sometimes have fights or disagreements, but we are willing to compromise and ultimately have a desire to make each other happy. A marriage cannot work unless the other person is your first priority (yes, you have to put them before yourself). But the great thing is that I love him so much that this comes naturally (sometimes more or less naturally than other times).
I was reminded of something a few nights ago when I was at Jenna's shower. She asked for advice on marriage and while I didn't have advice per se I had an anecdote. Our pastor took us out to lunch a couple of months after we got married. He said that one of his favorite things about seeing newlyweds is finding out about the things that they are learning about each other in their new lives together. He asked me what I had learned about Keith. It took me a couple of days to think about this and to come up with a really good answer, but I shot our pastor an email a couple of days later with my answer. The hubs and I have extremely different opinions about the number of hangers one should own. I am of the firm belief that you should have about 15 extra hangers laying around. Then, even if you don't clean all of the hangers out of your closet you still won't run out when you are in the laundry room hanging up clothes fresh from the dryer. Also, if you go shopping and happen to buy a few new outfits, you already have the hangers at home to handle it. The hubs is of the opinion that you should own the same number of hangers as you own clothes. When I have "just enough" hangers, I get to the last 3 things in the dryer, can't find a hanger because they are located somewhere in the jungle of my closet, and then the clothes wrinkle by the time I give up on finding the hangers and just lay the clothes flat on the top of the washer and dryer until I wear 3 new items of clothing thus freeing up 3 new hangers. Of course, he is more organized than me and is prepared before he cleans out the dryer by going around to every closet and looking between every single piece of clothing to see which hangers are empty. He also has a theory that at any time, some clothes will be dirty or un-ironed so we could actually make due with less hangers than clothes. Sometimes I do all of the laundry and ironing in one day just to spite him.
The hubs and I compromised. He agreed that we could have more hangers (and since we bought more there has not been a single occasion during which all of our clothes have been washed - he probably made a good point when he said that there will always be some clothes in the laundry or ironing pile) as long as I agreed to load the dishwasher in his preferred way. Now, instead of loading all of the silverware handle-up, I load the forks handle-up and the spoons handle-down. The hubs is convinced that they get cleaner this way. I am convinced that even if they get cleaner in the washer that it is dirtier in the end because you are inevitably going to grab the spoon on the part you eat off of when you unload the dishwasher (be forwarned if you plan to dine at our house in the future).
I think that this can all be summed up nicely by something that I found on Jenna and her new husband Johnny's wedding website. They had a fun poll that you could take about their future lives together. One question was, "Will Johnny and Jenna kill each other living in a one-bedroom apartment?" The answer: "No. Because Jenna will make the bed (even though she doesn't care) to make Johnny happy."
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