West Virginia State Fair

Went to the West Virginia State Fair last night with the von Erck family.
Rode the really high, really spinny swings (after fair food: cheeseburger, roasted corn and FUNNEL CAKE).
The guy in front of us fell out of the swing as it took flight.
15 foot fall.
The ride guys barely batted an eye.
I thought: DEATH!
Then, as we spun round and round over the bright lights of the fair, I smelled it.
Weed.
The 50+ year old couple 5 swings ahead of Hubs and I were smoking a joint.
Super cool, super old people.

Talk amongst yourselves.


And, no, of course I didn't take any pictures, because I'm the worst. EVER.
But, I did pet lots and lots of goats and sheep and swooned over the fluffy bunnies.

Blog Crisis

I swear I will be back. The blog just needs a makeover. I don't fit it anymore. Give me a weekend?

THANKS!!!!!

Shorty

Wall of windows opposite the wall from yesterday's teaser--with the Panther snoozing on the ottoman for good measure.

I promise to take better quality pictures this weekend. But on second thought, my parents will be here, so I promise to take pictures of all of our adventures.

So, what does a Tuesday morning look like for the director of a museum?

8:50am - Arrive at the museum.
8:51am - Turn off the alarm and turn on the lights.
8:53am - Turn on the copier.
8:54 - 8:59am - Turn on the Gift Shop computer; check emails; answer emails; forward emails to Archives; retrieve orders from online gift shop.
9:00am - Ascend the stairs and enter office; turning on lights along the way.
9:05 - 9:30am - Organize desk in preparation for journalist coming to interview at 10am, so that it does not look like a bomb just went off and you have no idea what you're doing.
9:32am - Discuss plans for Christmas Exhibit with committee member and part-time staff; write memorial for 91 year old volunteer who just passed away to go in newsletter.
9:58am - Journalist arrives.
10:00-11:00am - Interview.
11:05 - 12:00am - Inform archivist of Christmas exhibits and ask for research help; stump him and fellow volunteers; discuss idea of exhibit and possible places/things/books to research; go back and forth for 30 mintues.
12:00am - 1:00am - Eat leftover hot dog while designing invitation for the Ice Cream Social on August 29th.
1:05am - Take a deep breath and trek it back up the hill to museum; try to pick up random tourists along the way.

That's all folks.

Teaser

Inside wall of the living room. I know this is crappy quality, but its a teaser.

I'm home for lunch and decided that since I was officially baaaack, I would post this quick pic.

Oh dear reader, I just can't even express how completely mind-boggled I am by everything that has happened.

How do you just leave everything, friends, family, place of reference, behind for a 6-hour-drive destination that you are now supposed to call home?
How does that happen?
Are there 12 step programs for that sort of thing?
Is Step 1 "Move on and accept what you have become"?
Hmm..
Not to mention that this 6-hour-drive destination is now my place of SALARY.
I think this is called the Real World.
I just wish it came with a manual.
Like, turn right here and you will magically know everything there ever was to know about running a museum.
Turn left and DIE.

Are you sure you're ready for my return?
I promise to be happy and uplifting and eternally shining in my next post.
Till then.

Alive?

Yes, Hubs and I are alive and doing well. Things are freaking nuts. I was not prepared for all of the things that have happened during this past month.

Ahem. I am the executive director of a museum/historical society.

Does that freak anyone else out?!?!

Please, have patience with me. Give me another week to settle into this new life as Hubs settles into medical school (his orientation is tomorrow; first day of class is Friday).

I have so many things to fill you all in on and to show you!!!

I am slowly but surely getting a grip, but am ready to return.

I miss all of you. I have no idea what is happening in your lives. Sorry for being absent! I am tuning in again beginning tonight.

I think this has been a nice and appropriate break from the blog world, but I'm baaaack!

Here is an early or late or right on time good morning from the Jackson household:

See, still alive even after the torrential downpours/bar hopping of last night. Fun times.

I'm HERE

Ok. Ok. Its been forever. I doubt that any of you dear readers are even still left. But, if you are, thank you for your loyalty and patience.

Hubs and I are officially residents of the Wild State.

And I am officially the Executive Director of the museum here in our small mountain town.
Two woots for emloyment!!!!!!!!

I don't have the energy or the capacity to really dig in and blog right now, but I promise to be back soon. I have to let you all in on what Hubs and I have been up to.

I know I know

I've been a horrible blogger. I've been doing a lot of "drive-bys" lately. Which means that I have been keeping up with your blogs (while at work, "checking" email), but I have not had a free moment to comment. Horrible, right?

I know you miss me. Maybe.

I promise to be back in the full swing of things on Monday. When Hubs and I will be official Wild Statians. And I will no longer be a swampy but a mountaineer. I would have never thought I'd see the day.

I wish that I could tell you packing is going well. I'm not really sure what step we are currently on, but its not looking good. You see we are housesitting somewhere with a pool. A really nice, big pool. So, ask me again how packing is going.

Have I ever mentioned that Hubs and I are excellent procrastinators? Which doesn't help the situation at all. And the pool. Well, that really doesn't help at all, because it is hot in this fish bowl city. Really hot. I'm looking forward to some 70 degree days. They are in my very near future. Thank you, Wild State.

I can't wait to take some pictures of the Wild State and our new abode. Wait patiently. They are coming!

Where am I?

Still here. Currently sitting on the couch with a slight headache from the vodka tonics and laughter of last night while Hubs makes me pancakes and coffee. Cure!

After pancakes, Hubs and I are going to pack up 2 boxes (since we only have 2 boxes left to pack with) and then head over to the pool where we are housesitting.

This is the life.

Oh, and the job? Well, I got a call on Friday to tell me they have extended the interview process into next week due to an overwhelming response to the opening.
Woooooooo.
Great news, right?
..................................................

I promise to be back soon.
Probably on Monday griping about something or other.

Happy weekend to you all. I see a pool in your future. Do-do-do-do-do-do.

Two Weeks From Now

Hubs and I will still be sleeping. In the Wild State.
No more 430am alarms. No more 445am alarms. No more 500am alarms. No more 515am alarms.
Thank God.

It will be our third morning waking up in the Wild State.
I wonder if it will feel different.
I wonder how the Panther will have done on the 6 hour car ride.
I wonder if we will be completely unpacked.
Knowing Hubs and I, we will.
I wonder if I will have already drug Hubs along to the paint store.
Probably.
I wonder if I will have already launched on my thrift/antique mission.
Most likely.
I wonder if I will have found my bookshelves by then.
Probably not, but I doubt I will have given up.

I wonder if I will be counting down the days to starting the job.
I hope so.

There are so many things to wonder about right now, because so many things are about to change.
And I say, BRING on the change!
I've never been so excited to start something new.
I feel like this past year has been limbo.
I'm ready for some consistency.

I am ready to be a mountaineer, dare I say it.
I hope that you all will join me on this journey.
The blog will be getting a makeover in 2 weeks.
I can't wait for Chapter 2.

10 Things You Should Know

1. Hubs and I welcomed summer all official-like last night. Chicken burgers, homemade potato salad (smothered in fresh dill) and fresh corn on the cob. The corn was amazing, inducing vulgar groanings of "oh my gah" with each bite. Mmm!

2. Yesterday, I was NOT a happy camper. I'm pretty sure that Hubs tried to flirt with me throughout the entire dinner-making process and I was having nothing to do with it. And then, when he didn't cut the rest of the corn off the cob right when I asked him to, I accidentally unleashed some of my biting sarcasm.
I'm sorry Hubs!!! I love you!!! Blame my uterus! It isn't me talking and reacting all the time.
Its a chemical thing, you know?

3. I had the best time in Charleston with my girls.
I realized a few things:
a) I don't miss going out. In Charleston, it just means you get really sweaty and nauseated from too much alcohol, 97 degree heat and 100% humidity. It also means $15 tabs for 2 drinks. What!
b) I hope and pray that I never looked as drunk as the majority of the girls that I couldn't help but watch trainwreck all night long. Disasters!
c) Charleston is SO HOT. How did I ever forget that fact?
d) Other single girls judge us-old-married-women for going out sans the hubs.
They're all, "Oh my gah, you're going out? But, you're married."
And I'm all, "Oh my gah, you didn't know that they lifted the ban on married women having a social life outside of their Martha-Stewart-kitchens?"
They're all wide-eyed stare and, "Nooo, when did that happen?"
And I'm all, "Well, let's see. I think the year was 1922, and I'm pretty sure that your great-grandmother was shoved up against a grimy wall in some basement club as some stranger felt her up while your great-grandfather, her husband, finished his shift at the mechanic shop.***"
And they're all, "Ohhh. Well, wanna split a shot?"
[Plot may or may not have been stolen from Chicago. Hypothetically speaking.]

4. Hubs and I completed Part 2 of Step 1 of the 20 Steps to Packing Bliss (or whatever I called it). We dropped off two overflowing garbage bags at Goodwill. I love getting rid of crap that you never use. Its like mental weightloss.

5. I'm a little obsessed with floor lamps at the moment. I am crushing on this one currently.

I asked Hubs if I could get it for our one year anniversary (which oh-my-gah is in two and a half months! what!!). Is that weird?

6. We also completed Step 2, packing up our winter clothes and superfluous clothes-related items that we know we won't be using in the next 2 weeks, and began on Step 3, books and knick-knacks.

7. Still haven't seen SATC2. Its killing me, but I literally have no time for anything! I am working 9 hour days, training an intern to take over for me when I leave in two weeks. Oh my gah!

8. I had the best of intentions this morning. I was lying in bed last night. Its was 1130. I thought, I feel really good right now. I should get a good rest, drop Hubs off and go for a walk (maybe run if I'm feeling crazy) or at least start back doing Jillian. Yep. Did not happen. Surprised? Not in the least.

9. I am not-so-patiently awaiting the results of my interview. That might be why I've been biting off Hubs' sweet head lately.

10. I am pretty sure that I might go into a slight depression if I don't get the job. I am currently depressed about my naked fingernails. I have been staring at them a lot lately and envisioning my favorite shade of hot pink on them, but I just haven't had the energy to make that dream a reality. Sigh.

Tell me something that I must know about you!



***I was not making out with anybody!! I am just trying to make a point, a rather muddled and exaggerated and extreme point, but a point nonetheless. Hubs is stuck with me for life. No chance of extramarital jaunts in this union!

On the road again..

Heading to Charleston this afternoon for some girl time.

I can't wait!!

I'm going to see:

A lot of her.

A little bit of her.

A whole lot of my favorite place on earth.

I'm going to miss:

Her, alot.

And him, too!!

Hopefully, I will get to talk to her for a while on the ride home.

I miss my girls like crazy!!!
Hubs, I will be home before you know it. I love you.

I hope that everyone has as wonderful of a weekend as I am sure to have!!!

For Hubs

For some odd reason, Hubs thinks that I portray him as "mean" and "uncaring" and "selfish" on this here blog.
Not a post goes by that he reads and doesn't comment on how "bad you just made me look!"
"They must think I'm the meanest guy around!"
["They" being you, dear reader.]

So, I gave Hubs some options.
Option 1: Edit my posts before they reach dear reader.
Option 2: Have a rebuttal post to "set the record straight."

Apparently, I have selective memory or a distorted view of the past.
I might also have a slight problem with exaggeration.
Its like I have this need to recount things that maybe didn't happen?
Either way, Hubs is never very pleased with how he appears on the blog, so I'm here to set the record straight.


But first, a defense.
Hubs, it is true that you are very sensitive to my continued sleeping (most mornings) (except for your 4 alarms that don't give a damn who's sleeping and go off in 20 minute intervals beginning at 430am) in that you tiptoe around, tuck me back in and generally keep the light out of my sensitive eyes.
But Hubs, Mother Theresa would be labeled as an evil villain if she slept next to me every night with 4 different alarms for company and had a need to get me up before 530am so that I could drive her to work.
See, it has nothing to do with you.
Its me.
Because I'm not a morning person.
This means that if I am made to get out of bed before 7am, I am probably very annoyed/pissed off/angry at what or whoever just made me get out of bed before 7am.
NOT at you!
But at THE SITUATION.

 source

No, not him.
You know, the sleep situation.

So, Hubs, I guess what I'm trying to say is that your alarms will always piss me off, your tiptoes will always sound like stomps and the light, no matter how hard you try, will ALWAYS shine directly in my eyes.
And in those moments, I will blame you for doing all of those things directly to me even though I know that they are only the malicious creations of my subconcious.
Deep down, I know, Hubs, that you would never treat your blond wifey like passive aggressive parents who resort to extreme measures to wake their angry teenager up before 3pm.

Dear reader, Hubs is really the sweetest man I know. I mean, he makes me pancakes every Saturday and Sunday morning while I sit on the couch and veg on the internet. AND, he cleans up after those pancakes. What!? Oh yeah.

So dear reader, please know that these off-character portrayals of Hubs are really only violent acts of my very creative psychosis that sees only what it wants to see and remembers what it wants and thinks it remembers, because they could never be accurate descriptions of my sweet, sweet Hubs.

[Now that's love: the willingness to look like a complete psychopath on the internet.]

Buuuzzzzz

is what I feel like right now.
Wheww... What a crazy day!
It probably didn't help that I drank an entire cup of very strong coffee and then took a very large sudaphed since both seem to make my heart beat at the speed of a humming bird's wings.

I didn't sleep well thanks to leaky sinuses, clogged nostrils and nerves.
I didn't want to get up when Hubs' 430am alarm went off.
I still didn't want to get up when he came back in from showering and shined the closet light in my eyes.
I decided to not get up when he walked loudly out from the bedroom.
But in the end, I got up.

Sneezefest 2010 began about 622am and continued until about 945am.
I thought for sure it would never end.
That was when I downed the sudaphed.
And half a bottle of saline nose spray.
Then, I rubbed my nostrils raw.
Poor nostrils.
The sneezes stopped just about 1015am.
Just in time for the, well, you know.
The interview.

Yeah, the interview.
So, you're probably wondering about the interview, right?
I took my position at the kitchen table about 1005am.
I tried to read some blogs to calm my nerves.
That didn't work.
I prepared my space.
10 pages of notes spread in front of me.
Computer open with various documents open and ready just in case.
A glass of water for the dry mouth that would inevitably occur from talking a million miles a minute in an effort to sell myself.
I had a pen ready to take notes.
Just in case.
At 1030am, the classical serenade that I was waiting to explode from my phone didn't happen.
Then came 1031am.
Still no explosion.
At 1032am, frantic violins erupted as my phone lit up and vibrated on the table.
I picked it up with quick breaths, speeding heart.
I took a deep breath.
Tapped the green button.
"Hello?"

It lasted exactly 30 minutes.
I had to frantically gulp down water 4 different times because my tongue was like leather.
I hardly took a breath between answers.
I spat out words like candy at a Christmas parade.
And in the end, I felt good.
Really good.
In my opinion, it went very well.
I felt prepared.
I was confident.
I want that job so freaking bad.
I hope that translated well over the phone.
The phone part is the only thing that I don't feel good about.
There were a few awkward pauses as we each waited for the other to begin talking, but I guess that is to be expected.
But, overall, I feel great about it.
That's just me though.
I don't have any expectations unless they're high--like reaching-for-the-stars-high.
I know that may seem like a bad thing, but it works for me.
It pisses me off when I don't get what I expected and makes me work that much harder to insure that I get what I expected the next time.
Nothing like competing with yourself, right?

So, after a delicious dinner of fettucine noodles, sauteed strings of zucchini and homemade tomato-red pepper sauce, I am going to try and convince myself that I should begin on Part 2 of Step 1.

**THANKS for all the blog lovin', ladies. You don't even know how much you boost my mood and confidence. :)

The Funk

I woke up with a funk this morning--killer headache, achy back, sensitive skin, jar head, mucus-y throat and leaky sinuses. I am also running a low-grade fever, so no Tuesday with Monster for me.

Since I am holed up on the couch, I thought that I should at least bring you all along on this fantastic journey that I like to call:

Packing:

The 20 Steps to Cardboard Heaven

Hubs and I completed Part 1 of Step 1 Sunday night.

Step 1:

Organize Existing Materials

(read: Throw Away ALL Your Crap)

We (read: I) chose the filing cabinet and napkin-turned-catch-all-for-junk-holder for Step 1.

Observe:

Be glad that I was too embarrassed to open the bottom drawer. Isn't it hilarious that I own a piece of furniture (a filing cabinet) that is meant for organization and neatness and for all those perfect people out there and canNOT keep it true to its purpose? Pathetic.

And who turns a napkin holder into an inbox/outbox/junk drawer? Who?!

And yes, we do everything from a seated position on our couch in front of our new and beautiful tv. Thanks for noticing/asking.

Its amazing to think that all of that could really fit in that tiny thing, huh?

And yes, we store our tv box next to the couch. I mean, we are moving in 2.5 weeks.

How insecure am I that I feel I must keep explaining our junky apartment and inability to remove ourselves from in front of our tv?

Sad.

Oh, Hubs. It can't be that bad. The Panther sure does seem to be enjoying herself.

You can tell how puny I'm feeling since I haven't taken the time to adjust the color/contrast of any of these photos or to get rid of Hubs' red eye.

[But now that the cat is out of the bag, yes, Hubs is a bloodsucking vampire. Don't worry. He abstains from human blood in so far that he doesn't actually bite humans. The blood bags at the hospital where he works are his only source of nutrients. Poor, bloodsucking Hubs.

I want to be a vampire so bad it hurts. I keep having nightmares where I'm an old woman and he is still young, beautiful, bloodsucking Hubs. 

But, he won't bite me.

He doesn't want me to suffer from the same hopeless, soulless, bloodless bloodsucking existence that he does.

What he doesn't know is that I plan on tricking him into getting me pregnant (since, you know, all he-vampires though bloodless and technically dead have a healthy supply of semen), which will force him to turn me into a vampire. 

What? You didn't know that vampire babies are deadly?

He'd be saving my life, while simultaneously killing me, dooming me to an eternity of living death.]

Sorry, I never can resist a Meyer-stab.

Ahh... that feels better. And it only took about 30 minutes.

Please ignore the fish posters in the background. I didn't want Hubs to completely loose his identity upon marrying me (at least, just yet), so I conceded to the fish posters (for now).

Now, onto Part 2 of Step 1: going through each and every article of clothing and deciding what stays and what goes.

I'm not anything if not thorough.

-----------------------------------------------

Hey, guess what.

I GOT A PHONE INTERVIEW FOR THE FREAKING AWESOME POSITION THAT WOULD MAKE ME SO FREAKING HAPPY.

Its tomorrow morning at 1030am. Fingers crossed that I am not running a fever or sniffling/snotting my way through it.

Oh yeah, and fingers crossed that I get it!!

Random for the Weekend

Well, Hubs and I are getting on the road (AGAIN) this afternoon, heading up to Virginia for his little sister's graduation--yet another time for me to sit back and feel old. Yippee.

This week has disappeared. I have no idea where it went, but I'm pretty sure that James Taylor stole it from me. I can't honestly say that I want it back. Take it, James, and keep it.

Hubs and I have still yet to begin the arduous packing process. I'm going to stop there because I might hyperventilate.

Still no word on the job situation. I am beginning to think that is not such a good thing.

Do you know if they have people called "friends" in the Wild State? Its been so long since I've seen these people that I'm afraid I won't know how to spot them when I get there.

I am in desperate need of a haircut. And an attitude adjustment. I wonder if I could get a two-for-one deal somewhere.

Hubs and I bought a stove-top griddle/grill pan (nonstick). It is like the best freaking thing EVER. I love it!

I have been looking forward to So You Think You Can Dance since last week and was very disappointed that I only got to see an hour of auditions (because of James) before they were in Vegas. I need at least 8 hours of auditions before I'm ready for the hardcore competition.

So for some very strange reason, Hubs and I decided to watch the finale of Lost. Afterward, we both agreed that we hadn't missed ANYTHING by not watching that show. It was really really strange. And, ending the show with everyone in a "heaven" type place was a total cop-out if you ask me.

I keep telling Hubs that I think its about time we tried for another fur-baby. I think ours is getting lonely.

Whenever I See Your Smiling Face

Last night, I saw James Taylor and Carole King in concert.
It was pretty freaking amazing.
The funny part is that I had been dreading the concert all day.
I did NOT want to go.
Why?
Because I have Peter Pan syndrome, and the one thing that I hate after getting old myself is when others that I look up to or enjoy get old, too.
I was worried that James Taylor wouldn't sound like the James Taylor that I listen to on my cds or itunes.
I was waiting for an old-man-voice to filter through that microphone and break my heart as I sat in the nosebleed section.
Thank God that I was wrong.
James Taylor hasn't aged a day.
He was amazing.
And Carole King, well that lady rocked the arena.
It was such a good night of good music.
I am so glad that I went even though we didn't get home until 130am.
And spent waaaaay too much money.
But it was great nonetheless.
They played my favorite song, too, as part of the encore.
I had been waiting all night to hear it.
I want you to hear it, too.

I'm under the impression that encores are no longer spontaneous--they are actually planned into the performance.
Oh well.

"When We're Rich"

is my new go-to phrase these days. Although I know better than most that doctors are not all rich, I know that one day we will be comfortable. All that I really want is for us to not have to think twice when it comes to repairing our only car so that it doesn't break down on us mid-transit or cause us bodily injury because we are worried that we can't spare enough money to have it fixed. I just want piece of mind that if I fall and break my leg, we are going to have enough money to have the proper medical care to fix it.

Have I mentioned that Hubs' medical school does NOT offer health insurance?
Does that seem odd to anyone else?
So, I am going to have to drop everything I have here in SC and move to WV in the hopes of finding a good enough job to cover living expenses and health insurance even though we will only be there three years, so even if I found a great job with benefits, they may not even look at me because I can't commit more than three years?!

Does this sound like the lavish wife-of-a-doctor lifestyle you were expecting?

Back on topic.

It is a common misconception that doctors are millionaires. Sure, some are, but most are very much NOT.

Because...
Most student doctors do not graduate from four years of medical school debt-free (laughable).
Yup, you have to pay to learn how to save lives.
And we are talking a good fraction of a million dollars in payment to learn how to save lives.
This = debt on top of any other undergraduate expenses that may have accrued in order to get into medical school.
You know, like four years of every science class that you could imagine that has a required lab with $400 lab fees and $700 book fees; like one Kaplan course at $1000 a pop to help you study for the MCAT, which costs a pretty penny to take (each time, because it should be taken more than once).
Then there are the fees to apply to all of the medical schools.
And finally the deposit once you've been accepted.

Do you see the number rising?
Me too.

I have tallied that Hubs and I will be roughly $260,000 and some change in debt by the time he walks across that stage as Dr. Hubs.

But he will be able to pay it off within his first year out of school working, right?

No. He won't. Because he will be pulling 80 hour weeks, during which time he will be missing holidays, maybe even the births of his children, etc., for a mere $45,000 a year. And this will go on anywhere from three to eight years. (Hubs' program will take an additional six after medical school.)

I guess that the whole debt thing is really a nice way of weeding out the ones who are only in it for a little cash from those committed few. You know, those crazy people willing to go as far into the red as need be will surely the best doctor make.

Finding it really pathetic what our lifesavers doctors have to go through to save lives, I mean, to pay outrageous malpractice insurance so that they can then attempt to save lives?
Remind me again how much a celebrity makes per movie, or a professional athlete per game.
And they aren't saving lives one foul ball at a time are they?
And I bet they didn't have to pay any amount of money to pretend to makeout with a complete stranger fellow actor so that millions of people can watch them on the big screen.
Oh, that's right. We pay them LOADS to do all of those things.
My bad.

I guess that where this innocent phrase has led me is here:

To all of those people who wink, pop the thumbs up or attempt to high-five me for marrying a soon-to-be-doctor because they think that I pictured a future of bedazzlement with Hubs proffering up diamonds at every birthday, anniversary or the third Monday of every month because he's a millionaire and he can, you know nothing of the sacrifice it takes to get past four years of $250,000 classes and six years of living frugally and paying off that bill.

I thought that maybe no one outside of the medical school world would understand this precarious position of doctorhood until I had lunch with my mentor a few months back. The first word he uttered as I described the situation of medical school was "poverty."

"Excuse me," I said, as I nearly choked on my tomato-basil noodles.

"They expect both of you to live in poverty so that he can go to school and learn how to save peoples' lives," he said.

Poverty. I never thought about it that way. Sure, I say that we're poor more times a day than I'd care to count, but poverty? That's something entirely different.

"What about you?" he asked.

Yeah, what about me, I thought. Its all up to me, this whole staying out of poverty thing.

"Well, that's why I am here with you now. I have to get the best job that I can, because we only want to take out enough loans to pay for school. We are trying to come up with living expenses on our own."

"But, that's insane. You're both so young. How do they expect you to do that?"

[I'm still not entirely sure who he meant by "they," but I'm pretty sure that he was speaking of our beloved government.]

"You know what I think," he asked. "I think that medical school should be free. Why do the people who want to save lives have to live in poverty while incurring hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt to learn how to save human life?"

[And this is when I thought that was probably the best idea I'd ever heard a democrat propose. (And I am a-political for the record.) I agreed with him. I may have even drank a sip of my water to that, believing that he was on to something. It seemed like the fairest thing out there. I was all about some equal rights for student doctors in the moment, but probably only because I think that Hubs is the nicest, most selfless person on the planet and of all the doctor-wannabes, surely he should be granted the fine gift of free medical school.

But the more I thought about it, the more I understood why so many people fall victim to these progressive theories. Free medical school sounds a lot like Health Care Reform, which isn't a solution at all. In fact, the same spiraling-into-failure cycle would be true of both theories. If medical school were indeed free, then every cash-loving son-of-a-gun out there would be signed up tomorrow, not because they had a passion for helping people, but because they wanted to get.rich.quick and everyone knows that doctors are millionaires, right?

The truth is that the quality of doctors and healthcare would quickly diminish and eventually disappear (remember what I said earlier about all of that debt weeding out the good from the bad?), because there would be no competition and doctors would be just as broke as well, medical students. Sigh.]

I guess all that I am trying to say here is that I picture a future where Hubs and I don't have to check our bank account a million times a day to make sure we have enough liquid funds to cover our student loans, utility bills and rent. I don't want to have to worry about spending too much money on groceries. And damn it, I want some extra cash to give to those people who have NO way of making ends meet.

I'm just saying that yeah, its pretty cool being married to a man who will one day be called Doctor, but I'm not in this for the cash, so don't pat me on the back because you think I married a soon-to-be-millionaire and deserve a "congratulations."

Growing Up

Hubs and I will be heading to my parents' house this afternoon.

Its celebration time.

My little brother is graduating from high school.

Sigh.

I am officially old.

Happy Graduation, Jamie!
Congratulations!
I love you!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ok, so I know that not everyone loves Glee like I do, but please bare with me.
You might even become a convert if you follow along and do as I say.
Sounds a little sinister, right?
WELL I MEAN IT, YOU BETTER DO AS I SAY.
Ok, I really am joking.
On topic again, this past week's episode, the Gaga episode, was a revelation.
I actually do like Lady Gaga, well that isn't exactly true. I appreciate her status as a pop icon and I do enjoy a limited number of her songs (I am currently digging "Paparazzi." I know, I know. Everyone says its so overplayed, but I don't listen to mainstream radio, so I miss all of the redundancy.).
Her videos are quite entertaining. I'm just not into the whole techno thing. Or, all of the air humping.
I do, however, LOVE her songs when they are covered by the incredible members of the Glee cast thanks to the creative geniuses who can listen to a song like "Poker Face" (Exhibit A) and turn it into Exhibit B.
See what I mean below.

Exhibit A:


Exhibit B:


I wish that I had talent like that to hear the potential in a song to take it from scary techno to something so lovely that I can't stop listening to even at work where I sometimes (maybe all the time) forget that I am not alone and sing very loudly along with the tunes buzzing in my ear buds.
Embarassing.
But don't you agree that Exhibit B is, well, incredible?

I am shutting up now about Glee. I have been trying my hardest not to blog about it all week.
I have no will-power.
Have a fabulous holiday weekend!!!

A Welcome Break

So, after working all weekend and week, not getting to bed before 11:30 every night, finishing up my freelance assignment, dropping another $200 on the car, babysitting the monster, "kicking ass" (so said my boss) in my meeting yesterday morning and laying on the couch all last night with a splitting headache while Hubs worked late at the hospital, I have decided to take this morning off. I was in desperate need of sleep and just one moment to sit and think about nothing in particular.

God knows that I definitely don't want to think about the future. Things are too up in the air, too close to going exactly the way that I wanted them to go. And that part is really scary.

Being so close to having what you've been dreaming about for the past year and yet having no control over what happens next.

I need an interview and the only thing I have to rely on to get that interview is a few pieces of paper.

That's it.

That's scary.

I am so conflicted.
Part of me is counting down the days til the big move, so ready for a change, so ready to start something brand new with Hubs.
The other part of me is worried, discouraged by the moving process and wondering where in the world I am going to fit in the Wild State.
I'm worried about being lonely while Hubs studies his life away.
I've lived for nearly a year here in this city without any girlfriends (AND IT SUCKS) but at least I have had Hubs almost every time that I wanted him.
What am I going to have up there?

My alienation is really my own fault. I could call up any number of my girlfriends that live at the closest 2 hours away, but I have some strange physical and mental block when it comes to talking on the phone. I just don't do it. I forget to return calls or to even call in general. I'm not a phone talker. I want you to physically be with me. That's where I connect. (Yes, this is a totally lame cop-out, because I'm the worst friend ever.) Because I have some great friends. Friends like Hannah who will drive 2 hours just to hang out with me all day and make me laugh. Friends like Margaret who sends the best presents ever like the package of cosmopolitan ingredients and a gift card to the movies, so that I can feel like I have a girlfriend with me as I drag Hubs to see SATC2. I think I'm going to cry. No really. I think I am. I don't deserve any of that.

Anyways, I have been looking at Hubs' future fellow students a lot on facebook, scoping out potential new friends, and that had me even more worried.

There are so many varied ages among the students and their SOs. Its like half of them are married with children while the other half are fresh out of undergrad and read to par-tay.
You see, I'm stuck somewhere there in the middle.
And some of the people just seem so... OUT there. Like really out there. Like they are in bike gangs together and the guys wear girl jeans and they are OVER 25. Yeah..
I keep telling Hubs, "Dude, you are going to be the squarest person in your class."
Its true. He shall see.
I don't think I'm a square. I've always been told that I am just "freee." Whatever that means.
I think that I probably look like a square, but I've got way too volatile of a tongue to be one.
I guess what this boils down to is that I am extremely shallow, and yes, I do judge a book by its cover. So shoot me! And sign me up for the squares!

I digress. Back to my worries.

I'm not whining. I'm truly worried (remember, I'm a worrier).

And right now, I am scanning our crappy little apartment from my perch on our couch with its ugly supposed-to-be-navy-but-it-looks-purple slipcover and trying to picture everything packed up in cardboard.

Is there a 12 step program for packing?
How about one for making friends?
What about one for curing my inability to use a phone correctly?
There must be one for my extreme shallowness and quick-to-judge mentality.
Help?

Ok, I need to get off the couch now. Productivity is my friend.

Sorry for the Debbie Downer post. I have been fooling myself and you, my dear readers, for the past two weeks with photos and cheap talk. I apologize for submitting you all to my ridiculousness (as Hubs would call it).

Here. You're distracted:
We call this the high-dive tuck. Excellent form, Panther.

Tuesday with Monster

What did Monster and Aunt Beezy's morning look like?


Like this:

Complete with block stacking, posing, laughing, photo shooting, eskimo-kissing-turned-makeout-session. Perfect!

I love Hubs

**Warning: All of these pictures were taken from the comfort of the sofa. Their quality may or may not have suffered.**

But first, a tribute to the Panther-ball. A Panther-ball is a rarity that only a lucky few of us has ever stumbled upon. You have to be quiet. And stealth. You shouldn't even try if you've recently eaten fish. But sometimes, you get lucky and you catch the Panther-ball unawares.
Like this:

But this post is about Hubs and all of the wonderful things that he does for me, because he loves me and is the best. EVER.

First though, look at what we just threw $500 away for:

Ok, really, this is about Hubs. Look at the things that he has done for me, his baby (and creative genius):

(I use the past tense [was], because these two pieces were done during college, when I was unspeakably in love with anything in any shade of avocado green.)

I love this filing cabinet for its style. But, don't ask me to open it for you. Its a complete and utter disaster. I am forcing myself to tackle it before the move. It makes me break out in a sweat just thinking about it. It was a thrift store find in pretty bad condition, thus the paint-job. As we were painting it, streaks of rust began to run through the paint (although you can't really see it in the picture) and I actually love the look of it. Just haven't gotten the organization part down yet.

The chair was all Hubs. I picked out that beautiful shade of green and the very expensive fabric that thank God was 75% off because I saw it and had to have it. (Before: the chair was painted in a dirty shade of off-white and had the most horrifyingly shiny, pale blue floral fabric on the seat.) So, Hubs took it upon himself to recover the seat and paint it! And, it is definitely one of my favorite pieces, although his next creation might rival it:

So, yeah, this is pretty much the sexiest lamp I've every owned. For some odd reason, I only bought table and floor lamps with paper lantern shades (again, my college style was obviously immature and lacking and I have no reason why I chose the things that I did), and I am so over them right now. When I saw this lamp on the shelf of our neighborhood Goodwill, I knew that I had to make it into my--I mean our--I mean, Hubs' next project. It was sans a lamp shade, but I knew its potential. For $3.50, I bought the hunk of cream-colored sculpture and $14 of a lampshade and $8 of freaking fabulous zebra-striped micro suede fabric later, I had this beauty to call my own. Thanks Hubs!!

Don't judge us for eating our tacos on the couch. Ever since we threw away that $500, we can't help but drool over our new tv. (And I didn't get off work until 6 and we had to trudge through the grocery store before making it home to cook, so there!!)

Stroke My Big uh,uh,uh Ego

Happy Weekend to all!

This is my new favorite tune.

Beyonce, you rock my socks off.

Kanye, as long as you're behaving, I like you, too.

Enjoy!

(Where do I learn to dance like this?)

The first year of marriage brings...

***There are qualifications for the following list to apply to you and your significant other (SO):

1. At least one of you must be under 25
2. Both of you must be in some way shape or form beginning, about to begin, ending or trudging through some type of higher education
3. Neither you or your SO (significant other) can be an heir/heiress/oil tycoon/royalty/professional athlete/celebrity/hedge funder/trust fund baby/etc.

So, back to the list. The first year of marriage (for all of those who qualify) brings:

1. NO money, because even the few thou you racked up at the wedding is gone. Admit it!
2. Unexpected things that cost lots and lots of money (like car repair, or tonsillectomies, or a replacement laptop, etc.--and no, this is not a personal list--these are generalized observations that might be based off of my own experience--might be!)
3. Lots of fun, guilt-free time spent with the SO, because you're newlyweds and its expected.
4. Lots of free meals from family members who either remember those moneyless days or use food to bribe you out of doing #3.
5. Crazy ideas about drastically changing everything you've ever known to save a little money (like selling your or you SO's car and becoming a one car family = problems).
6. Justification of hating certain chores (like, your disgust for washing dishes and doing laundry is because your SO LOVES to do those two things. Duh! I should've known that! I mean, you or your SO should have known that, because this list is not specific to me at all. At all.)
[Weird.]
7. Fights over which side of the couch you prefer (LEFT!).
8. The pout face when you or your SO ignores the other for other distracting and frivolous things (like facebook, or the student doctor forums, or blogs, etc.).
9. Satisfaction, because it all just feels so right.
10. Lots of unnecessary purchases and gifts (some that you will feel bad returning, but YOU MUST!) because you're young and carefree and immature and don't know any better.
11. Lots and lots and lots of the best, heartbreaking-because-its-too-much-for-one-heart-to-contain LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I hope that this helps someone out there. These are definitely pertinent things that I wish someone would have shared with me before taking that ultimate dive into the freezing and bottomless depths of marriage.

BLAAGHHHHH

So, I am sitting in the Ford dealership as they do fancy things to our car (ahhh... the infamous "our") the likes of which is going to cost. Big time. Like $1,000. Yep, that is three zeros that you see.

Am I regretting the $500 dollar purchase of our brand new flat screen tv that we made Monday?

Why, yes. Yes, I am. How did you know?

So, I am sitting here--have been sitting here since 10am and a lot has been happening.

Things like near panic attacks when the guy told me just how many things needed to be replaced like all four tires and coils and plugs and yadda, yadda, yadda.

Things like near fainting spells as he tallied up how much all of those things would cost.

Things like frantic texting to Hubs at the hospital and incessant phone calls to my dad, reporting these incidences of highway robbery.

Things like crying over my keyboard as I transfer $1000 from one account to another.

Things like reflecting on yesterday's catch-up of RHNYC and how I now officially hate Kelly. See, I hate her this much:

Yes, that is a volcano erupting out of Kelly Bensimon's mouth, because, she is an idiot from another planet, who really should rehearse every word that comes out of her mouth before speaking so that she doesn't make herself look any dumber or loonier than she does already. Do not mess with Bethenny, Kelly, because you will lose (Go Team Bethenny!!). And actually, I would really like to see your credentials, because I DO NOT believe that you could have ever graduated from college. Who thinks that the phrase "making lemonade out of lemons" is negative? Oh, only morons? Right, well, you're a moron.

Wow, I think that I just took all of my car frustrations out on Kelly, but I still don't like her. At all. You deserved that Kelly. You did!

Well, all of my hopes and dreams for showing you all of the things I have accomplished in my spare time will not come to fruition because I was supposed to use today (you know, my "spare time") to finish all of those things, which is really annoying because I was so excited!! Oh well. Duty calls. Or, the money-hounds. What's the difference? Hmm...

I guess that next week will be a more likely time to show you my creations. The suspense..

ON A FREAKING FANTASTIC NOTE:

If you haven't been with me long enough on here to know about my and Hubs' less than 40 day move to the Wild State, you do not know about the totally awesome job opp that I went after with teeth bared and claws flexed back in December. What was this job opp? Oh, a measly little volunteer position at the local historical society that might get my foot in the door for eventual paid employment. But this dream, well, it was dashed back in March when I learned that their budget would not allow for another employee anytime soon, so I turned my attentions elsewhere. UNTIL TODAY. Because, literally minutes ago, I received a text from the director of said society that she has found another job and would be submitting my resume for the position.

What. Wait. What.  

WHAT!??

  

WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY, I MEAN TYPE?!!!!!!!!!!!!?!?!?!?!??!!?!?!?!?!

Does this mean that the Heavens have opened up and shone a light on my misery and had mercy on my poor, tortured soul?!?!

This almost makes the $1000 car bill insignificant.

ALMOST.

I'm going to go lick my money-less wounds now.

Tell me something funny. Quick!

10 Happy Thoughts & Tuesday with Monster

1. Hubs and I enjoyed a delicious dinner last night at Bonefish that reminded us why we never eat out. Apparently, our tummies aren't used to rich, fatty foods. But, it was still very enjoyable in the moment of consumption.

2. By tomorrow, I should be able to show all of you what has been keeping me busy. YAY.

3. The Panther has fallen in love with the new stool that Hubs and I bought with the hopes to recover it in the fab new material we found. This is good because it keeps her off the bar and counters, but bad because it is convincing me more and more that I need to have her declawed.

4. I do NOT have to go into work on Wednesday. But, I do have to apply for a million jobs and send in my resume. Blegh.

5. GLEE. Tonight. Thank God.

6. My plans for the chic apartment in the Wild State are coming to fruition. I love that Hubs loves my style and will let me do whatever I want.

7. I am no longer pale.

8. Its called a brand new 32 inch flat screen LCD tv, baby, and its all mine. Ow, ow.

9. SEX AND THE CITY 2! Need I say more?

10. Hubs' tonsillectomy and turbinate reduction only cost us about $900. Thanks to insurance and Hubs' employee discount that was a savings of about $5,000. Cra-Zy.

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Tuesday with Monster

How good are those cartoons?

Take-your-pants-off-good, apparently.

Beach Bound

Heading to the beach this afternoon for a weekend full of sun, vodka, sand, sun, good food and maybe some good shopping. Oh yeah, and sun.

Boy, do I ever need to get out of this town.

 I need this: Hubs, blue sky, sand and sun.

I have finally just declared this my birthday weekend to make up for the crappy day that became my unbirthday.

Have I thanked you yet for the birthday wishes?
No?
Well, in that case

Un-Birthday

I declare yesterday as my un-birthday, because it wasn't so great.

The hours between 8am and 11:30am sucked balls.

Yeah, those hours pretty much ruined my day.

Thank God that Hannah was there to restore me.

Her constant chatter and need to make me laugh was great.

We went to lunch at one of my favorite places, where we had great champagne.

But my lunch, a crabcake on a bed of lettuce with fennel and red peppers, well, it wasn't that great.

So then, we went shopping and I couldn't find a simple, everyday necklace or funky gold earrings.

That wasn't that great.

But then, we went to the fabric store and I found the perfect creamy suede, zebra-printed fabric to cover the lampshade for our thrift find.

That was great.


Notice a trend?

Then, I found this fabulous and sassy dress and really expensive looking cuff from Target.

All of which was totally great.

Then, I went home to find two guys still banging around on our roof, replacing it, and Hubs curled up sick on the couch.

So much for dinner plans and my clean house that had since been destroyed by rotten debris leaking from our ceiling because of all of the roof-banging.

That wasn't that great.

But then, I ate yummy leftovers of roasted red pepper risotto, asparagus and chicken cutlets.

It was great.

And then I talked to some great people who wished me a happy day, which it wasn't.

But, they were great.

And Modern Family came on, too.

Great!

Then Hubs agreed that we could pretend yesterday was not my birthday but that it was indeed my unbirthday.

And that was really, really great.

So, even though I cried myself to sleep after professing it to be the worst day ever, I am just happy to say that yesterday--the day from Hades--was my unbirthday.

I have all of my expectations on tonight's family celebration, where I am going to be VERY overdressed in my new dress and shoes and cuff. But, I don't care, because I have declared that today is my pretend birthday.

And right now that is so much better than the real thing.

Plus, I have this picture to cheer me up.

Which, how could this not cheer you up?

23

Well, today, I turn old.

Or, 23.

Don't be mad at me if you are older than 23 and think that I am being ridiculous.

I have Peter Pan Syndrome and cannot be blamed for my irrational conceptions of the passage of time.

If it makes you feel better, I turned old at 19, too.

I must say that so far, I don't feel any different.

I don't feel as if an era has come and gone.

You see, when I turned 22, I was sad and yet relieved.

22 was a big year for me.

I was sad because 21 had been such a great year that I wasn't at all ready or prepared for it to end.
Technically, I was still 21 when I graduated from college (May 9). See, 21 was just FAB.

I was relieved because to tell people that I was getting married at 22 seemed to agree with them better than if I had been 21.

Things that I am NOT going to do in this 23rd year of life:

1. Apologize for my age. I am younger than everyone at work by a good 4-5 years. They are always looking at me, dripping with nostalgia, saying things like, "Gosh, if I had had at your age what you have, blah blah blah." Or, "You're only 22! You have everything ahead of you." Or, "What I wouldn't give to be your age again." Or, "You are so young." Well, SOR-RY! Its not my fault!

2. NOT strive for maturity. I feel that I lost a little bit of myself these past couple of months of being in the Real World. I was so driven and focused on being serious and being taken seriously that I would come home exhausted with no energy. I didn't feel like a young, carefree 22 year old. I turned into a perfectionist freak who could not slow down or say no or just breath. When I yelled at a coworker who began to cry over work stress, I knew that I had gone too far. Apparently, maturity for me equals zero compassion.

3. I am not going to worry about money or about whether or not I am doing enough for my future. I am just going to live. And, I'm going to love Hubs. A lot. Because in the end, that is what matters the most.

4. I am not going to rush through anything. What's the point? It makes for a crappy result that will have to be redone anyways. Why not get it done right the first go round?

5. I will not fret or worry about getting older. I will just enjoy the passage of time and the fact that it ultimately is the only thing that gets you from Point A to Point B.

And now, I will shower, go to work for a few hours and then shop and drink my way across this city with bestie, Hannah. Can't wait!

Mean as Crap

It is no secret that I have a tongue capable of some lashing and a wit that's snarky to boot.

Combine these two and you get trouble. Or, you get me in trouble with Hubs for unleashing my biting sarcasm and unshakably truthful analysis of everything he or anyone else (for that matter) does.

Recently, Hubs has started this very endearing pantomime in those times of fire breathing. He flutters his fingers in the air around my head as if implying there is an imaginary banner plane flying circuits around my big head trailing this statement,

Mean as Crap:

For No Reason!!!!!

Very cute, Hubs.

To this I usually respond with my own version of an imaginary banner plane circling somewhere around Hubs that says,

Really Unnecessarily Annoying!!!

Touche, dear.

Example:

Sometimes Hubs is not the most attentive driver. He is a severe creature of habit. This trait sometimes oddly enough translates into driving. Like, we are driving down a road that if you were to take a right at the next light would take you to his mother's house. So, as we are driving down this road, heading for home, Hubs automatically gets in the right lane to take a right, when we should be in the left lane preparing to make a left.
See, habit. 

So, I say with a bit of sarcasm,
"Where ya going there, slick?" 

Hubs' response: Wiggling his fingers somewhere near my left ear, he says,
"Mean as crap: For no reason."

I attempt to bite my tongue and the laughter creeping up the back of my throat and say,
"Just making sure you didn't drive us to China and back."

He says,
"I'm going to go and cry in a corner now."

I say,
"Well, make it fast, I've got a lot to do in the next hour."

Example:
Its 10:30pm and we are laying in bed.
Hubs is setting his alarms.
I roll over to him and say,
"I disagree with your 4:30am alarm clock."
He rolls his eyes at me.
"I don't approve of it."
He turns on his 4:30am alarm clock.
"I don't think its fair that I have to be subjected to your 4:30am alarm clock. Its against my constitutional rights."
He calls me mean.

I know that you are all thinking I am the worst wife ever, but I love Hubs with my whole heart and soul and would never do or say anything to hurt his feelings.

But, I do love to tease him until he is forced to invent such fantastical things as the banner plane.

Which is frankly just classic and made me just want to pick on him even more or throw him down and submit him..

Oh, yeah. We think it probably looks something like this:

Happy Mother-to-a-Fur-Baby-Day to Me

So, I told the Panther: "Panther, do you know what would be the best Mother-to-a-Fur-Baby-Day present ever????"

Panther:

The Panther, Fall 2007

Me: "Mommy would really appreciate it if you would stay off of the kitchen counter and bar. You see, Mommy is a little sick of cleaning up your black hair that is literally everywhere. So, could you maybe do that for Mommy? It sure would save me some paper towels and frustration and money since every time I drop a piece of fruit on the counter and then have to throw it away because it has hair on it."

Panther:

The Panther, Spring 2009

Me: "You know, booger, Mommy would also really like it if you could wipe off your paws every time you exited the litterbox instead of running out fullspeed and jumping on the couch. I don't really enjoy sitting in a pile of gravely, scented litter. Think you could work on that one, freak?"

Panther:

  The Panther, Fall 2007

Me: "I was serious about the whole shedding thing. Think that we could come up with a solution for that before the big move to the Wild State, because Mommy really has her heart set on white couch covers?"

Panther:

 The Panther, Summer 2008

Me: "Or maybe we could talk about how every time you eat wet food you slobber it all over the tile, where it hardens and grosses Mommy out. Well, Panther, if you don't think you can do any of that, I guess that means I will have to work out a present of my own. Its BATH TIME!"

Panther:

 The Panther, Spring 2009

Me: "I guess that means that I will just have to get myself a present, too."

   New, fab earrings ($5) for me (with no makeup on) and the Panther, drying in the background