The Newmans

Resolve.

2012-01-06T20:09:00.000-06:00

'Tis that time again. Time to make New Year's resolutions. Next month it will be time to forget them. But for now, while we're basking in the fresh newness of twenty-twelve and pretending we're all gonna diet and exercise and look like Eva Longoria by July, I think I'll hop on the bandwagon. So here are my goals, people. In no specific order.

1. Become a doctor. Watch out. (Sorry. I can't help myself.)
2. Survive as an intern. (By that I mean don't kill anyone.)
3. Watch less TV.
4. Go to bed earlier.
5. Learn more photography--and use it.
6. Blog more (with said photographs). This is a repeat from last year. Obviously a 2011 resolution failure.
7. Take my Christmas tree down before Easter.
8. Pray more. Some days, I get in the bed, close my eyes, begin to pray, and I realize that it's the first time I've prayed all day. Jesus tells us to "pray without ceasing." So I should strive to do that. Obviously.
9. Cook new things more often. (But I won't say "eat healthier" because I love cheese too much.)

And finally, here it is. The cliche:

10. EXERCISE. I want to be one of those people who LOVES to exercise. These people who make me feel like a slothful waste of living flesh. You know the ones. The ones who are constantly posting about their "runs" on their Facebook statuses. I hate them. I want to be them. It's a little internal battle I'm having. I hate exercise. I have a fierce aversion to it. Ideally, I'd like to think I'd run a half-marathon this year. Buuuuut that ain't gonna happen.

So let's be realistic: I will strive to take the stairs.

...I'll let you know how that goes.

Occabob's resolution is to continue to be awesome.

Happy Birthday, Katherine!

2012-01-04T18:38:00.000-06:00

My sib is 24 today. I'm thankful for her. She's funny. And has cute clothes. That are, conveniently, my size.

At first, I didn't want her. I asked my Mama if she could take her back and get a brother instead. Sorry about that, Tate. Now I'm glad I have a sister. A brother might not let me borrow his purses. Kidding.

This was after I accepted her existence.

She turned out to be a boat load of fun, and she let me be bossy. It worked out well. And she tawked wike dis. She cawed me "Wah." It was entertaining.

Me: "Katie, say 'turkey.'"
Katie: "Tucky."
Me: "No. TuRRRRRkey."
Katie: "Tuuuuuuhhhh-key."
Me (laughing): "No. TuRRRRRkey."
Mom: "Laura, stop it."

Hahahaha! Happy birthday, Katie! I put naked pictures of you on the internet! Hahaha!

Ok. Too much.

Happy birthday, sista!

2011 review and wrap-up

2012-01-03T15:52:00.001-06:00

[I totally stole this idea from one of my best friend's sister's blog, Spoonful--my favorite blog to read (and my mother's favorite blog to read)! You can find it in my blog list down there. So here's your cred, Sarah Barry! Sorry I jacked your intellectual property.]

2011 was my favorite year so far! Matt and I got engaged, had tons of parties, I figured out what I'm doing with my life, cut people open, stitched people up, birthed some babies, got married, am finally satisfied with my mantle decor (after 3 years), and was completely, 100% free from clinical duties and studying for the entire month of December. Very few awful things happened, and nothing particularly tragic took place, which was a welcome change from 2010. Here's a look back.

Matt asked me to marry him.

We picked and visited our wedding venue. (Which, unfortunately, was much prettier back in February than in September.)

Oscar Bob turned 2. I turned 25. We didn't get dressed up for the occasion.

Most of March, April, and May were spent within the confines of the hospital. I spent my days (and half my nights) obsessing about all the varicose veins I was going to acquire from standing up over an operating table for hours and hours and hours at a time. I escaped and spent Easter with my family. I needed the 2-day break like I need oxygen.

The third set of baby birds hatched by our back door.

My Aunt Becky hosted our very first wedding shower! Margaritas were involved. So. Much. Fun.

I met Emeril Lagasse. He's such a nice fella.

We had more showers and parties. We're some lucky people with lots of folks that love us.

I became a wife. In an effort to make light of the monsoon happening on the day of our beach wedding, Matt sent one of the boys over to the girls' beach house with a bag of goodies--including this poncho. I laughed. 'Twas funny.

We spent our fall weekends in either Tuscaloosa or the backyard. Chewin' sticks and chasin' balls and whatnot.

I traveled for interviews.

We celebrated our first Christmas as a married couple.

It was a wonderful, wonderful year. I can't even begin to wrap my brain around the things that will be happening in 2012, but I'm so grateful, humbled, and excited!

Happy New Year!

2012-01-02T15:51:00.002-06:00

I hate black-eyed peas. Matter of fact, I hate peas in general. It's a texture thing. I have issues. In my proactive efforts to avoid bad luck, gray hair, the flu, or a local avalanche, I traditionally force myself to eat a spoonful of them on January 1. This year, however, I decided to be a good wife and whip up a fancy black-eyed pea recipe for the husband and I. I found a recipe for Hoppin' John from The Pioneer Woman's website. Here it is. You need to write it down. Now. And cook it tomorrow. (But please do not compare my food photography to PW's.)

I did change a few things. The grocery store had absolutely no green bell peppers. I still don't understand how a grocery store can be out of green bell peppers. I did understand why they were out of canned black-eyed peas, but bell peppers? So I used a red one. Not only was it delicious, it also added some color. I like my food colorful. Don't you? PW uses a white onion, and I used a purple one because I already had one in the fridge. (Again with the color perk.) I didn't have any white vinegar, so I didn't do that number. I also used bacon instead of a ham hock. Mostly because I don't know what the heck a ham hock is. PW uses cayenne pepper, but I, like any self-respecting Mississippi girl with a daddy who grew up in Louisiana, used Tony's. Duh.

I served it up over white rice with a side of chicken. The chicken was my back-up in case my Hoppin' John turned out to be a disaster. Fortunately, it turned out to be a raging success. I might even like black-eyed peas now. It was SO good, y'all! The rice kind of covered up the weird pea texture that I have those issues with, and the flavor was incredible. (How do you like those awesome TV trays? They're at least 20 years old.)

I didn't make any cabbage because, well, I don't have the slightest idea how to cook cabbage. And I don't really like it very much, and I just couldn't eat TWO things for dinner that I don't like. Even though it probably would've been okay because I DID like my peas! Oh well, this is the year I finally get a real job, so even if we don't end up wealthy, we'll end up better off than we are now. Hip-hip-hooray for TWO salaries!

In my family, we never put a coin in the peas, but I think I kinda want to start. I'm a sucker for a good tradition. In Matt's family, they always say that for every pea you eat, that's how many dollars you'll earn (or something like that), and one year he ate so many peas he got sick. Haha. I mean that's funny. We won't teach our kids that one.

Did you know that if you have leftover Hoppin' John, it's called Skippin' Jenny? I just learned that. I think it's funny. Hope you have lots of luck in twenty-twelve!

I forgot...

2012-01-01T15:49:00.002-06:00

...to post our Christmas card before Christmas. So I'm going to do it now anyway. Because I love it so much. Even though Christmas is over. And it's now officially 2012.

[Sorry it's a little blurry...] I hope you had (past tense) a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS! And that you remembered what it was all about. Mine was fabulous. I'll blog about it soon. And about my new year's resolutions. Which will, per usual, turn out to be a joke. Maybe I'll write about it in complete sentences. Unlike this post.

Happy New Year, people! Eat your peas and cabbage!

halls=decked

2011-12-22T00:43:00.000-06:00

We were going to go with a theme of simplicity this year for Christmas. However, my husband was not satisfied with mine and Katie's $15 Christmas tree. I mean, it was 5 feet tall--it just didn't have that many branches. It was Charlie Brown-esque. I liked it. Matt wanted a "real" tree. And by real, he meant fake but not anorexic. We both have serious allergies, I'm not really interested in sweeping pine needles, and I have this neurotic fear of house fires, so real trees just aren't our thing. Although I do have this dream of going into the forest and chopping down a real tree and hauling it home to decorate. Maybe one year we'll do that.

So this year, we went to Sam's with the intent of purchasing a 7 1/2-foot tree. Good, manageable size. Except that 7 1/2 foot tree looked wimpy next to the 9 foot tree. So we got the 9-foot tree. Total impulse purchase. We hope that if we move next year, we find a house with 10-foot ceilings. Maybe we should've thought that through a little more. We also didn't have enough ornaments to decorate this giant tree, so we put it in a corner and didn't decorate the back. Problem solved.

I love our growing collection of ornaments. Our tree growing up was never one of those pretty, store display-like trees with a matching color scheme and big flowing ribbons. Although my mother dreamed of a tree with white lights, gold and silver balls, and a big, beautiful white bow at the top, our tree had multicolored lights and a conglomeration of ornaments that Katie and I made or that we got in various places where we traveled. Our tree topper is the ugliest gold, plastic angel you've ever seen. It has no face. I used to hate it, but as I got older, I started to like it due to its ugliness. It's our tree topper. We can't change it now! Anyway, I like ornaments that are sentimental or that come from places I've been. It's like our Christmas tree gives people a little glimpse of who we are. Ok, that's cheesy, but I still like my random ornaments.

My cousin Heather gave me this ornament at a wedding shower back in the summer. Our first ornament!

From Carillon Beach--where we got married.

Matt and I got this one on our honeymoon in Mexico.

My mama got this ornament in Hawaii when she was pregnant with me. She gave it to me last year to put on my tree.

My cousin had these made before last Christmas. A little piece of Papaw will always be there with us on Christmas. (Katie and I called him Papaw, but everyone else called him Paw Paw. I have no idea why, but that's why the ornament says Paw Paw.) You can't really tell how pretty it is in this picture. The colors are beautiful.

This ornament came from The Mustard Seed--a Christian community/home for mentally challenged adults in Brandon (Jackson). They make all kinds of pottery, and the residents paint all of it. They sell it in a store, and all of the proceeds go toward running the home. It's a really incredible place, and I picked this particular ornament because it's [obviously] in the shape of my home state.

We had to have a Bama ornament. Duh.

Matt's mom made this ornament for us. It's our wedding program cut into strips and curled into little spirals. She put little charms on the top--a seashell and a starfish--since we got married at the beach. It's so neat!

Matt's mom also sent us this ornament.

Every single Christmas, my mom buys Katie and me an ornament that has the year incorporated into it. This was the one she sent us this year.

How much is that doggy in the window? (woof, woof)

I purchased these reindeer this year at Mistletoe, and I am super pumped about them, but I do feel like they're much prettier in person.

This is Pepe. He sings "Feliz Navidad" and dances around. My mom sent him to me in a little Christmas package when I was in college. He decorated my freshman dorm room and has been around ever since. I let him spice up Matt's office this year (Home office, that is--I'd never risk him being kidnapped at his actual office. I mean he's so awesome, it'd be asking for it.)

You know how I said earlier that I really want to go into the forest and chop down my own Christmas tree? Well, cutting down my own mistletoe is the next best thing, I suppose. It took a while to find some low enough that I could get to it, but I was pretty pumped that I got it from a tree and not at Lowe's. I don't know why that gives me such satisfaction, but it does.

I was also pretty proud of this bow. I'm not good at making bows, so this was a real accomplishment.

My mom gave me these old place mats last year. I can't remember the last time she used them, but this year she asked me, "Do you know what I did with those Santa place mats?" "Um, you gave them to me, Mom. Do I have to give them back?" Haha. Thankfully, she let me keep them. I've grown quite attached.

Rhonda is making so many contributions to my Christmas decor. She has a new, large, beautiful nativity scene that must have 20 pieces, so she gave me her old one. I was pretty excited. Y'all know I'm a sentimental gal, so I love it just because it's the one that was always displayed when we were growing up. But I also love it because it's just the necessities. Not that I don't love big, ornate, beautiful nativities, but sometimes at Christmas we need to focus on what it's all about: Jesus. So here we have Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and a little lamb--which I also love because my FAVORITE Christmas book is "The Crippled Lamb." If you've never read it, you should. Long story short: a little lamb gets left behind because he's crippled, and he ends up keeping baby Jesus warm in the stable.

I can't believe that this is mine and Matt's first Christmas together! (Well, married, I mean.) I'm so unbelievably blessed with an amazing family that loves Jesus and always focused on what Christmas is all about. I'm so lucky to have added such a wonderful man to our family, and I can't wait to spend all the Christmases for the rest of my life with him.

Merry Christmas, everyone! And don't forget what we're celebrating.

"For there is born to you this day, in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord." Luke 2:11

Blinkers

2011-12-16T13:55:00.000-06:00

I have to interrupt the jolliness of this season to ~~complain~~ educate. It's Christmastime. Traffic is a nightmare. Please do your part to keep road rage, accidents, and blood pressures to a minimum. Use your blinker, folks. For the love of Christmas. Use your freakin' blinker.

In most cars, your blinker handle is on the left side of your steering wheel. Push it down to turn left. Push it up before you turn right. It's so easy. You can even use your pinky without taking your left hand off the steering wheel! No excuses. Also, be sure to use your blinker when changing lanes while traveling on the interstate at speeds in excess of 70 miles per hour. The folks in emergency rooms will thank you.

Merry Christmas. Safe travels.

Table re-do

2011-12-12T23:58:00.001-06:00

A couple of months ago, I had this brilliant idea that I would paint our breakfast table. Then I realized how hard it was going to be to sand all of the little details, the chair backs, etc. Then my friend Alison told me about Annie Sloan's chalk paint. No, I did not paint my breakfast table black so that Matt and I could color on it if dinner conversation was lacking. That's chalkBOARD paint. Relax. This is chalk paint. You get it in boutique-style paint shops (I didn't know these existed prior to this project), and the beauty of this stuff is that it doesn't require sanding!

It sounded like a fabulous idea. I just didn't realize how big that table was or how obnoxious it would be to paint the spindle pieces that make up the chair backs. I also forgot how busy I am. Between rotations, interviews, and the need for sleep, let's just say it took a while. I finished it last night, and I'm pretty pumped about it. I don't think the pictures really do it justice though.

Let's start with the before pictures. Do you see why I wanted to paint the table? I'm not so much an oak fan, but it was free. This was Matt's grandparent's table. We have it more because it was sentimental than because it was free, though. I told Matt that I'm 100% positive that if Mamaw could see this table now, she'd be wondering why she didn't discover Chateau Grey chalk paint years ago.

Please note that there are lions in the chairs. I just don't even have anything to say about that.

Whatcha think? Please disregard Grayce's kennel.

I painted it, waxed it, then put this dark wax on it that makes it look antiqued and distressed. The dark wax stays in the grooves of the wood. I like how it turned out!

And when I came home yesterday from Christmas shopping, this pretty orchid was in the kitchen. Chili was also in my crockpot. I have a fabulous husband, don't you think?

The table got a Christmas makeover, though.

I love poinsettias, but I have to put them where my dogs can't eat them. I mean, they don't usually eat plants, but I'm sure the second I put a poisonous one on the floor by the fireplace, The Big One will have it for a snack.

Anyway, I'm glad that the table is finally done. Matt's glad too because I wouldn't let him eat off of it for the past 2 months. (It wasn't waxed, so if you spilled anything, you couldn't wipe it off.) Time to retire the TV trays for a while! And by the way, mark my words--I will never paint another piece of furniture.

Lots to be thankful for

2011-11-24T00:44:00.000-06:00

"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." 1 Thessalonians 5:18

I have so much to be thankful for. With Thanksgiving upon us, I think I'll take a moment to count my blessings.

I am so thankful...

...that I was raised in a family who loves the Lord. That I was born to parents and grandparents who taught me by example to live for Christ. That I was brought up in church, that my parents prayed with me, and that they read the Bible to me.

...for my husband. I'm so thankful that he has been so supportive over the last three and a half years, that he was understanding when my life was not my own, and that he is ready and willing to pick up and move wherever I want/need to go for residency come next July. I don't know what I would have done without him. It's been tough, and he was always there to wrap his arms around me and make me laugh.

...for parents who have always supported me and encouraged me to chase my [very expensive] dream of becoming a doctor.

...for my mother. She has more faith and confidence in my abilities than I think I could ever have in myself. She always makes me feel like I can do anything. I'm also thankful that she let me paint my room every color I ever imagined, that she took me to Bookland once a week as a child, and that she never once missed a gymnastics meet, piano recital, basketball game, or drill team performance.

...that my dad has continued to put a roof over my head (at age 25...), that he taught me how to cook (which is particularly fortunate since cooking isn't a strength of my aforementioned wonderful husband), and that he indirectly kept me out of trouble via fear tactics. (Now I'm thankful!)

...for my sister and the friend she has become as we've gotten older. After all, she has the best clothes, the biggest selection of purses, the creative gene, and she always makes me laugh.

...for grandparents that have always been a huge part of my life. I could go on all day about them. I'm thankful for my aunts, uncles, and cousins. I'm so thankful to have such a huge, close family.

...that I have the kind of friends who buy me rain boots on my wedding day to cheer me up, who I know I can call in the middle of the night, who will spend hours on the phone with me because we live in different states, who send me good-luck messages before every test because they wrote my test schedule in their calendar, who have picked me up off the bathroom floor, and who know all of my flaws, yet they still stand beside me no matter what.

...and proud to be an American. I love this country and, I'm thankful that we can worship freely, our votes matter, and we can be anything we want to be. What a blessing we take for granted!

...that in 6 short months, I will have the privilege and honor of being a physician.

...for my Yorkie, Oscar Bob, and our Weimaraner, Grayce. They are so funny, and they really do bring joy to my heart.

...for Rotel dip.

...for weekends off and sleeping late. I'm more and more thankful for this, since it seems these weekends are increasingly few and far between.

...for central air and heat.

...for Shonda, my paid-for 2000 Honda Accord.

...for my favorite pair of jeans that I'm wearing right now.

...that I live in a place where it's reasonable to wear flip-flops and a tshirt until the end of November.

...for the Internet. Seriously.

...for diet coke, coffee, and the Kroger-brand crystal light that has an absurd amount of caffeine in it.

...for our fenced-in backyard.

...for my Canon Rebel T1i camera.

...for the soldiers and veterans who are or have served to protect our great country.

...for being raised by a family who grew our own vegetables and taught me how to pick, shell, shuck, and preserve them.

...for Mrs. Nesbitt, my third grade teacher who changed my life with books. Because of her, I love to read, and I love school.

...for Southern comfort food: mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, collard greens, fried okra, catfish, green beans wrapped in bacon, and hushpuppies.

...for dishwashers.

And lastly, for Thanksgiving. It's my favorite holiday. Hope yours is fabulous!

Honeymoonin' (Part 2)

2011-11-10T16:54:00.000-06:00

Matt and I l love nothing more than lying around doing nothing. It's disgusting how long I can lie on the couch without getting up (for any reason). However, for the best week of my life (thus far), we traded in the couch for some lounge chairs on the beach... And it was glorious. Waiters on the beach--the best idea EVER. Alejandro, our personal beach waiter, brought us drinks and nachos all. day. long.

After a couple of days of doing nothing (and loving it), we decided to do a little exploring around Mexico. I somehow convinced my new husband to ride horses through the jungle and on the beach. My sweet city boy (well, when you compare Huntsville to Greenville, he seems like a "city boy" to me!) had never ridden a horse. I can't imagine. He was nervous (but brave). I guess if you haven't grown up around horses and have never ridden one, a thousand-pound animal may be a bit intimidating. His knuckles were white from the death grip he had on the saddle, but by the end of it he was practically a cowboy.

Cowboy up. Look how relaxed! He may kill me for this.

Just FYI, horses are very afraid of camels. Just in case you ever find yourself on horseback in the presence of a camel or two. (Hey, it happened to us.) Move away from the camel. Quickly.

This was my second horse, by the way. My first one bucked me. Awesome. I almost peed my pants. Do you like my sweet honeymoon hat my sister gave me? My BFF, Sandidge, told me I looked like Diane Lane. I'll take that as a compliment. Notice that I'm almost not even in the picture. Subtle, yes, but the a-hole, egocentric, anti-female man from upstate New York took this picture. He hates women. He would not speak to me. He chatted Matt's head off. I made a game into trying to get him to look me in the face. No dice.

Sometimes we would come back to our room and champagne would just have magically appeared on our table. I really dig the all-inclusive thing. Cheers!

The third night, we ate at the Italian restaurant. FAVORITE. By far. We ate there twice. Let me just tell you that this girl gained 7 lbs during my 7 day honeymoon. Now let me tell you why: we ate FOUR meals a day! Who does that? I don't even eat 3 whole meals a day at home! We ate breakfast in bed everyday, then first lunch around noon, then second lunch around 3:30ish, then dinner around 9pm! And with the latter 2 meals, we always ordered both appetizers AND dessert. I would like to take this opportunity to thank my metabolism. I probably should've gained 20 lbs. Geez. So anyway, back to this phenomenal dessert. This vanilla ice cream with frozen strawberries... Well, this was not your typical vanilla ice cream. It was the best thing I've ever eaten. It came from Heaven. I'm drooling just thinking about it. Mexican vanilla ice cream. Two months later, Matt and I still talk about it. Often. We're going back. Just for the vanilla ice cream.

Runner-up chocolate thing.

Day four, we went to Tulum--some Mayan ruins. So cool!

Honeymoon solo-shot. Haha.

He becomes my husband and apparently feels this new obligation to carry my crap. (Well, it was our crap, technically.) I'm not complaining. How cute is he carrying that beach bag? He wouldn't let me carry it. I like marriage.

Iguanas. Everywhere. Welcome to Mexico.

More to come, people. So many pictures, so little time.

Happy Halloween!

2011-11-01T18:31:00.000-05:00

Our halloween wasn't too thrilling. There were no costumes this year. I had great plans to put out mums and pumpkins by our front door. I didn't get around to it. Last night, Matt watched Monday Night Football while I painted our breakfast table (and ate candy). Grayce drove us crazy barking, and Oscar Bob tried to escape via the front door every single time we opened it for a trick-or-treater.

The most exciting part of our night was the arrival of my mother-in-law with our new mattress!! She runs several hotels in Huntsville, and she ordered us a Hilton bedding package. It. is. fabulous. It's pillow-topped on both sides, and you kind of sink into it. Just in time for my 2 months off! I have full intentions of sleeping late every single day.

You know you're old if you spend Halloween painting a table, and the most exciting thing that's happened all ~~day~~ ~~week~~ month is getting a new mattress.

Oscar Bobby and Grayce got some new halloween toys. Miraculously, neither one of them has been de-stuffed [yet].

Hope you had a Happy Halloween!

Guilty dogs

2011-10-27T21:38:00.000-05:00

I bought a few more towels the other day, and when I got home, I dropped the bag in the kitchen floor and sprinted to the bathroom. I returned to the kitchen to get my towels out of the floor, and this is what I found.

That face... Have you ever seen anything cuter? The answer is no. You haven't. He obviously thought he was going to be in trouble for snuggling up inside the bag with my new towels. That's his "I did something bad" look. Even if I was mad at him (which I wasn't because I was going to wash the towels before we used them anyway), I couldn't have stayed mad at that face.

I sometimes wonder how I'm going to love my children more than my Oscar Bob.

In other news, Grayce (all 80 lbs of her) jumped on our bed a couple of days ago and broke it. Seriously. My side of the bed, too. Matt "fixed" it, so I'm just waiting for the frame to give out in the middle of the night and cause me to have a heart attack. I wish I would've taken a picture of the whole fiasco, but I didn't.

God bless her. It's in those Weimaraner genes to be a terror. I love her though. I'd love her a lot more if she'd stay off my bed and quit getting into the garbage. She's currently licking the coffee table. Why, you ask? Because that's what she does. Why not?

Honeymoonin' (Part 1)

2011-10-25T22:47:00.000-05:00

I've changed my mind. I'm dropping out of medical school, and Matt and I are going to live in a tent on the beach in the Mayan Riviera.

After our wedding, we spent two nights in the cutest little beach house ever. We had intended on relaxing on the beach Sunday before our flight to Mexico left early Monday morning. However, due to the inclement weather (to say the least), we camped out in the beach house and watched NFL. Not exactly what I'd had in mind, but it was relaxing. The storm settled down enough Sunday afternoon for us to drive to the nearest Domino's. (Seriously. Apparently married life is exactly the same as our pre-married life.) I stayed in the car (again... inclement weather), but Matt told the Domino's guy that we had just gotten married, so he threw in a couple of free chocolate lava cakes. Highlight of my day.

Of course, Tropical Storm Lee peaced out about the time we were getting ready to leave, so I got a few pictures around the house.

I imagined having a late-morning breakfast and coffee in this cute gazebo outside our house. Too bad that was left to my imagination only, since Tropical Storm Lee rained all over that parade. Literally.

Welcome to Mexico!! (Notice the sunshine.)

Our resort! So beautiful. Ahh... Can I go back??

Our room..

This made me a little giddy :)

So when we got to our room, there was a sign on it that said "Happy Anniversary." I laughed, and I told Matt, "Happy 2 day anniversary!" Our personal concierge was quite distraught over the fact that our banner didn't say "Honeymooners." I told him to please not lose sleep over our door banner. It was really okay. It was changed the next morning. Haha. Poor Roberto. Stressed out over door banners.

Honing my self-timer skills before we headed out to dinner our first night there.

One of the 8 restaurants. We ate in this one by the pool our first night.

Kobe beef. D-lish.

Breakfast in bed... Livin' the dream, folks.

Beach time!

The water was beautiful and clear, and there were white angelfish swimming everywhere. The fish kind of freaked me out at first. (Confession: I am afraid of fish. Really, really afraid of fish. Go ahead, laugh.) Once I realized that they weren't going to bite me, I was okay with them. Well, mostly okay anyway.

Blue skies. In sharp contrast to West Florida.

This picture doesn't do the beach justice. The sand was almost white and so silky and soft, and the water was a turquoise blue. One of the largest coral reefs in the world is right off the coast, so the reef breaks all the big waves. There were barely any waves at all.

The second night, we ate at a Japanese place, and it was one of our favorites. Apparently, I'm the village idiot because I didn't know that rubbing Buddha's belly was good luck. Between rubbing his belly and all the rain on our wedding day, we're pretty set for some good luck, and I think I'd like to cash in on that good luck on March 16!! (Matt was a little too enthusiastic about rubbing the giant Buddha belly if you ask me...)

Me not knowing to rub Buddha's belly...

Educated on the benefits of patting the golden abdomen...

Oh, [sigh]. Writing this post makes me want to go on a permanent vacation. Not that Jackson, Mississippi isn't smothered in luxury, but I do prefer a place with an ocean view.

To be continued.

A follow-up on my green thumbs

2011-10-20T20:49:00.000-05:00

Green thumbs? Not this girl. I really tried. I had a couple of plants, and tried so hard to keep them alive. (Click HERE for part 1 of this story.) My prayer plant lasted a few months, and then it began to deteriorate. I watered less, I watered more. I moved it to another room where the sunlight hit it in the morning instead of the afternoon. I loved that plant and its green patent-leather-looking leaves with purple undersides.

However, no one told me that "root rot" existed until it was too late. Root rot? Who has ever heard of root rot? To quote Wikipedia, "it is usually lethal, and there is no effective treatment." No one told me to take it out of that basket thing where it could drain. My uncle did tell me not to overwater it, but when it started to die, I thought maybe I didn't water enough. Wrong. I watered too much, and it couldn't drain, and my roots were rotting, so I hastened the plant's death by watering more. Not watering my dying plant was just too counterintuitive for my black thumbs, and I couldn't resist the urge to water. Ahh! So I drowned the prayer plant. RIP.

That gerbera daisy only lasted one season, but I don't think they're the kind of plant that lasts for years. As if I really know. That's what I'm telling myself anyway.

However, my aloe plant LIVES ON! Not only has it survived, it has multiplied! I need to get a bigger pot. So this post was not actually intended as an obituary to my plants, but to share the excitement of using my aloe plant.

Recently, I was cooking dinner, and I took a pot out of the oven. I set it on the stove, and I left the kitchen for a minute. I returned. Apparently the oven mitts lying next to my fresh-out-of-the-oven pot did not serve as an adequate reminder that the pot was fresh-out-of-the-oven hot. I grabbed the lid with my bare hand. I'm glad my mother wasn't in the room. I lost my religion for a second.

I remembered my aloe plant. I broke a piece of it off and held the gooey goodness to my finger. I wasn't impressed, so I put it in the freezer for a minute. Ice cold gooey aloe. From my very own plant! It was a little silver lining in having burned flesh. It almost made me feel better. My finger pain went from a 9 to an 8. Maybe a 7.5. I felt like Laura Ingalls Wilder. Anytime I do anything remotely self-sufficient (which is not often), I think of Laura Ingalls Wilder. As a child, I wanted to be her. Including living in a dugout by a creek. But that's beside the point. I grew something and used it!

Anyway, I got a little thrill out of using my aloe plant. It lives. It has purpose. If you get burned, you know who to call.

And just because you read this ridiculously long post about my plants, dead and alive, you certainly deserve something a little more amusing.

Tomorrow's Friday! Hallelujah!

The list

2011-10-13T23:47:00.001-05:00

When I pack for anything, I make a detailed list of what I need before I start packing. Then I usually call my mom, read it to her, and ask her what I forgot. (Hi, I'm 25 years old, and I can't pack without my mother's help... so what?) I check things off as I physically put them in the suitcase. Then I pack the list itself so that I can make sure that I come home with everything that I took. I do this whether I'm going somewhere for 2 days or 2 months. I am the least obsessive-compulsive type person you will ever meet, and the only reason I go through this ritual is because it is necessary. I'm a terrible packer. Too many times I've gone to the beach without a bathing suit or to camp without a hairbrush. I don't know what my problem is. I can remember minute factoids about obscure diseases, but I can't always remember to pack my toothbrush.

After we got home from our wedding and honeymoon, I found a list that Matt had made before the wedding. I think it's hilarious. The simplicity of his list bewilders me. What is the point of such a list? "Travel?" What? See, under "Wednesday," I would have written "shorts, flip-flops, tshirt, sunglasses, white shorts and blue halter top to wear for dinner, light brown sandals, pillow/blanket for car, car charger for phone....." You get the point. He writes, "travel." Then Friday is also funny. Just in case he would forget that Friday night was our rehearsal dinner, he wrote that down. However, the best part of the list is Saturday's section. It perfectly illustrates who Matt Newman is. He doesn't write "wedding." (I guess he decided he could remember that on his own.) He does write down that he needs to bring an Alabama polo to wear that morning while watching the game with his buddies. Typical.

Of note, turns out the Sunday "swim" was a bust. Something about a tropical storm...

PS: I did not marry Matt for his spelling abilities. His math skills are much better.

Mrs. Betty

2011-10-04T22:03:00.000-05:00

I did a rotation in a clinic back home last fall, and it was one of my favorite months. I met one of my most memorable patients who told me a story I'll never forget. It's a story about the kind of love I pray that Matt and I have for each other until we're old, gray (or bald), and taking full advantage of the Senior Discount at McDonald's. I thought about this story and this patient recently, and I wanted to share it. I don't do it justice, but I'll try.

___________________

I met a lovely 82-year-old who told me to call her Mrs. Betty. She showed me the bite on her foot, and I went over the medicines she needed refilling. Somehow during our conversation, she began to tell me about her husband, Ed. He called her Mama.

Back in May, Ed and Mrs. Betty were watching TV when Ed said, "Hey, Mama, what size ring do you wear?" She told him she wore a 7, and he laughed and said, "I thought you had little fingers!" She promptly informed him that a 7 did not mean she had fat fingers. She was average. Then he asked her when her birthday was. "You know it's November 12." Ed said, "I'm not gonna forget it this year, Mama." She wondered what he was up to, but she didn't ask. That was the end of that conversation.

Two weeks later, Ed went out to his garden. He didn't come back. He died right there, doing what he loved to do. A few weeks after the funeral, Mrs. Betty was going through the table drawer next to Ed's chair. She found an envelope with a note, written in pencil in his handwriting: "Mama, I ordered this for your birthday. I know I won't be here. I love you, forever. Love, Ed." Inside the envelope was a picture of a ring and the phone number of a jeweler. Mrs. Betty called the jeweler, and they told her that the ring had already been paid for, but that they were told not to ship it until the end of October so that it would not be there before her birthday. Sure enough, a couple of days before her birthday, the mailman knocked on her door and handed her a small package.

I sat on a stool in that exam room, close to Mrs. Betty, listening with tears in my eyes. Mrs. Betty cried as she pulled that envelope out of her purse with her beloved husband's handwriting on it. She cried as she opened the box and showed me that beautiful ring. "Edmond & Betty" was inscribed on it. "Isn't this the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" It absolutely was. She cried as she told me that it wouldn't fit on her swollen finger right now.

I am not a pretty crier. My face turns splotchy and red, and it stays that way for hours. I left the exam room and found my attending. He said "What's wrong? Are you okay??" I skipped the formal patient presentation, and I said, "Mrs. Betty needs to tell you a story. It's show-and-tell, and I suggest you bring a box of Kleenex."

She let us take a picture with her, and it's one of my favorite pictures from medical school. She's showing off her ring, and it's precious. It just reminds me why I want to do this. I love people. I really do. People tell their doctors everything (more so than I ever knew before I entered my 3rd year of medical school!), and I really think it is such a privilege to be that person that people trust with their health, their lives, their secrets, and their stories. I can't imagine another job. I won't post my favorite picture because of privacy issues (even though Mrs. Betty said we could post in on a billboard for all she cared), but I do have a picture that I will share.

Isn't that the most beautiful story ever? There's no way Ed could have known that he would die. I can't remember exactly, but I believe he had an arrhythmia or something similar. Sudden. He didn't have cancer. He wasn't really sick. He just somehow knew in his heart that it was his time to go, and he wanted to make sure his wife, the love of his life, had a happy birthday even though he would be gone. How thoughtful and loving and wonderful is that? I just think it's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard. What a lucky woman Mrs. Betty is! Ed loved her so very much, and he went out of his way to make sure she knew it--even after his death. If only all of us could be so blessed.

For the record, Mrs. Betty is the only patient who has ever made me question whether I'd rather do geriatrics or pediatrics.

Pretty things in the sky

2011-09-30T12:12:00.000-05:00

Have a fabulous weekend!

A year later...

2011-09-26T22:59:00.000-05:00

I just noticed that I had a draft post from last year that I never actually posted. I wrote it on September 3, 2010. Little did I know that it was exactly one year from my wedding day!! It was funny to look back and see what I was thinking and writing about exactly one year before our wedding. Here it is:
------
When I finally have a job... well, a paid job... in 2012, I plan to invest in 3 things:

1. A new car.
2. A boat.
3. Lasik surgery.

Not necessarily in that order.

Also, I recently devoured almost an entire watermelon by myself. My Pap plants a garden behind their house every year, and he always has watermelons. I brought one home the last time I went to see my grandparents. It was deee-licious.

Is it just my family, or does everybody save their butter bowls and use them for leftovers? If you don't, you should. They're a great size. [I am slowly but surely turning into my mother.]

Random subject #3:

I have been practicing with apertures, shutter speeds, and ISO speeds. I.e., Grayce and Oscar think they're celebrities and I'm the paparazzi. (I mean, I don't have kids..) So here are a few of my favorite shots.

We are going to Tuscaloosa tomorrow!! Roll tide!!
-------
Fast forward to today (9/26/11): We really did go to Tuscaloosa this weekend. Haha. Roll tide!!

Goals

2011-09-23T11:45:00.002-05:00

I want to be Kelly Ripa. Seriously.

That's really all I have to say right now.

September 3, 2011

2011-09-17T00:19:00.001-05:00

Let me tell you about September 3, 2011. Best day of my life. (So far.) I don't have many pictures at the moment, but maybe I'll swipe some off of Lucy or Amanda's facebook. I can't WAIT until I get to see all of my wedding day pictures taken by my FABULOUS photographers, Rae and Wesley Leytham. They were so much fun! Hilarious. They made my day. As you may know, Tropical Storm Lee ~~ruined~~ changed my wedding plans. I needed some comic relief, and I got it. Here's a link to our "sneak peek" from them:

http://www.raeleytham.net/?p=5042

I told you they were good.

Our wedding week was less than smooth. Just a few highlights: on our way to Carillon Beach, the bank called Matt's cell phone and informed him that his account had been hacked and someone was charging hotel rooms in Virginia to his debit card. Excellent. Then somewhere between middle of nowhere and Pensacola, we had a blowout. Fabulous. We got out of the car on the side of the interstate so that we could put everything that was in the trunk into the backseat so we could get our spare tire out. Too bad there was poison ivy on the side of the interstate. Perfect. When we got to Matt's mom's beach house, I washed my legs and feet like a maniac. I didn't wash my arms. So I had poison ivy on my elbow. Thank you, Jesus, for only letting that poison ivy be on my elbow. It could've been tragic. As if all that wasn't enough, Katie and I had an appointment at a spa to get our nails done on Friday. Except they overbooked us and couldn't do it. That's a whole other story. It ends with me missing the first half of my bridesmaids' brunch on Saturday. Faaaantastic.

So they say that if it rains on your wedding day, it's good luck. The Chinese say that it means you'll be rich. Well, folks, here's to hoping that's true. Because if it is, we're going to be the luckiest, richest people in the Western Hemisphere. It did not just rain on our wedding day. It monsooned. Torrential downpour. Thank you, Tropical Storm Lee. My mom woke me up at 8:00AM Saturday morning. I heard the rain. I said, "Mama, is that going to stop?" She said, "No, darling. It's not." I cried. Then I cried some more. Then Emily, Amanda, and Sandidge, three of my bridesmaids, hopped on my bed and threatened to hold me down and put Preparation-H on my eyes if I didn't stop crying. Emily said, "You cannot have puffy eyes on your wedding day. Do you want butt cream on your face? This is gonna be the best damn day of your life, so cheer up or we are going to get the Preparation-H!" She was convincing. It made me laugh. Because I knew they were dead serious. Fortunately, by the grace of God, it somehow stopped raining a few minutes before we started taking our pictures, and the rain stayed away for most of the wedding and reception. I consider that in itself very lucky, considering at 6:00AM the next morning, Matt and I were toying with the idea of getting in a closet due to the hurricane-force winds outside our window.

I truly have the best friends on the planet. There's no way your friends are better than my friends. After the Preparation-H threat, Katie and I went to get our nails done (third attempt). My bridesmaids went out and found blue rain boots. They did everything they could to cheer me up, make light of the tropical storm, and remind me that my marriage was more important than my wedding anyway. I would've been a puffy-eyed mess without them. I love them so much. Let me introduce you to them!

From left to right:

Alison. I've known Alison almost my whole life. We grew up in church together, went to elementary, middle, and high school together (although she was my cool two-years-older friend). We were cheerleaders together and then in high school we were on drill team together. We've come a long way since having crushes on our church camp counselors, huh Mill?

Ashley. My cousin... and my stylist! Ashley and I have always been really close. She's my family, so she's been there through everything in my life. She's one of those people who always looks like her hair and makeup has been professionally done, even if it's Saturday morning at breakfast. She did my hair and makeup for the wedding, and I loved it! She found a picture of us when we were little--I must've been about 2, she was about 4--and she is putting eyeshadow on me. Someone took a similar picture of us on my wedding day, and I want to frame them next to each other!

Lucy. I've known Lucy for most of my life as well. We have grown up together since kindergarten. She once had a backwards-birthday party. Everyone went dressed with their clothes on backwards. I will never forget that. I think it's hilarious. I may throw my kids backwards birthday parties. She went to Auburn, but we like to say we were friends before we chose sides. Thank goodness, because I don't know what I'd do without her friendship!

Katie. My sister. My only sibling. My maid of honor. What else is there to say? My grandfather used to call us Pete and Repeat (Get it? Ha.). That pretty much sums it up.

Emily. We met in college. Second semester of General Chemistry. I remember at one point I thought her name was Martha. I have no idea where I got that. We quickly became study partners. After we met, I don't think there was a class that we didn't take together at Alabama. I will never forget when we went out one weekend night, Emily declared, "Laura! We're officially real friends. Not just class friends. Real friends!" We were. We are. Real friends.

Amanda. Camp friends! We worked together in the summers during college at Camp Kahdalea. Best summers of my life, by far. We've done a lot of weird things together. Examples: got inside trashbags and hid in the woods; dressed up in hula skirts and pretended to be tribal crazies wanting to sacrifice small children... If I take this list any further, you may question my sanity. Despite the fact that she's a Tennessee alum, I love her.

Sandidge. Her name is Lauren, but no one calls her that. Well, no one from Greenville anyway. She's been through everything with me. We've had millions of life chats over vanilla Dr. Peppers with extra vanilla from Sonic. She's a cartographer. That's right, a mapmaker. How many of you have friends that make maps? I just think that's cool.

So those are my BFF's. My bridesmaids. Thank y'all, for everything.

Back to the wedding...

We were supposed to have a beach wedding. A private, beautiful little beach that, in February (when we visited) at least, had perfect white sand and bright blue waters. Hardly any waves at all. So peaceful, quiet, lovely. Come September, however, there were 10 foot waves crashing violently onto what was left of the beach. So much for that.

We had a beach rehearsal at least. To say it was windy would be the understatement of the year. The beach rehearsal was also unfortunate because after we decided to switch the wedding to the postcard-worthy chapel overlooking the lake, no one knew what the heck they were doing or where they were walking. The chapel wasn't big enough for all of our groomsmen to stand on one side and the bridesmaids on the other, like we'd practiced. So they had to pair up. Girls in front of guys. It could've been a train wreck. It wasn't. I don't know how they got to where they needed to be, but all I know is that it looked perfect when they opened the doors, and Daddy and I started down the aisle. Lucy said she was having a near-panic attack because she thought my dress was going to catch on fire from the candles lining the aisles. They were fake candles. Sorry for all the unnecessary anxiety, Luie. I didn't know they were fake either!

Rehearsal

Another funny thing was that I forgot to tell Matt that we were lighting a unity candle. See, I love the unity candle. I love the idea of it. I don't know if it's a Baptist thing, but apparently a lot of people had never seen one. So just in case you don't know, there are three candles. Two smaller ones are placed on either side of a larger one. The mothers each light one of the smaller candles after they are escorted down the aisle. Then, during the ceremony, the bride and groom pick up their smaller candle (that their mother lit) and use it to light the bigger candle together. Then they blow out the smaller candles. It symbolizes two-becoming-one. Genesis 2:24 says, "Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave to his wife, and they shall be one flesh." I love that the unity candle is a symbol of that verse, of God's intention of marriage. However, a unity candle was sort of out of the question on the beach. There's no way we could've kept candles lit. So, even though Matt thought it was the cheesiest thing ever, I decided to do the "sand ceremony" alternative. It's basically the same thing, except you pour two smaller vases of sand into a larger vase. Same concept. Matt thought it was corny. However, when we moved our wedding inside, I decided that we could do the candle after all! Silver lining. Except I forgot to tell Matt. And he literally didn't know that there was a candle until we went to light it. It was funny. Good thing he's a smart kid. He caught on real quick. My genius little husband.

The rest of the ceremony was perfect, until we headed back down the aisle. Mr. and Mrs. Newman, in all our newlywed glory. Except that people had moved their chairs into the aisle so they could see better. And they didn't move them back. So we couldn't fit. I had no idea what was going on, but Matt started drifting behind me, still trying to hold my hand instead of keeping my arm in his. I was whispering, "WHAT are you DOING? GET up here!" He let go of my hand and followed me down the aisle. Finally, I realized what was happening. He was stepping all over my dress. And my veil. Great. Excellent. He managed to not rip any of it, and when we got past the chairs, he caught up with me. Everyone in the video is cracking up, and we walked arm-in-arm out of the chapel, laughing hysterically.

So that was our wedding. Perfectly unperfect. But I wouldn't change a thing. It was the best day of my life. The reception highlights are for another day (due to the fact that this is the longest blog post ever). However, I will leave you with a link to a video created by our friends Katie and Cullen. It's so cute!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sf2PQJCpHMg

The Countdown

2011-09-14T21:56:00.000-05:00

Woo hoo! Matt and I got hitched!! We are officially Mr. and Mrs. Newman. Crazy. It was a wonderfully perfect weekend, despite Tropical Storm Lee's intrusion, and an even more perfect honeymoon. I will post more on our wedding and honeymoon later. (I first have to conquer uploading all those pictures.) This tired soul is fortunate enough to be off for the ENTIRE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER!!! (Bigger WOO HOO!!) So, watch out, Mom, here come the blog posts! I have a lot of catching up to do. There are about 8 million things that I've wanted to post pictures of, so I'm going to do a little backtracking.

First, however, I want to tell you about The Countdown.

37 days before the wedding, Katie, my only sister, my MOH, scribbled "37 days" on a wrinkled piece of paper and texted a picture of it to me. I text-screamed back to her in excitement, and she sent me a number everyday after that marking the countdown to our wedding day. I looked forward to them daily. I saved them in my phone, and I had intentions of making a blog post about them. Now that we're 11 days into our marriage, I thought I'd share them... finally.

It's a tough call, but #5 is my favorite. That's Polo, Katie's [special] dog giving a high-five. Look at that face. Melts my heart.

Thanks, Katie, for all the little things. You're the best. Love you mucho.

30-day mission

2011-08-04T16:12:00.000-05:00

So, we got our engagement pictures back this past week, and I just want to know WHY someone didn't say, "Hey, Laura, since you've been living in a hospital all year, maybe you should go outside and get a tan before you have your pasty white self photographed." No one said that. Thanks a lot, friends. I mean, I know I come from Irish people. I am not going to look like Eva Longoria. But, y'all, I'm see-through. And I didn't know it until I got those pictures back!

I am now on a serious mission to get a tan in the next 30 days. [THIRTY DAYS!!!!!] I thought about going to the tanning bed, but I just refuse to pay $40 a month to lay in a tanning bed when I live in Mississippi, and I can walk out by back door and get all the gene-damaging, skin-cancer-causing UV rays I want for FREE. 'Cause y'all know I don't have a job. (11 more months of being Matt's "dead weight" as he so lovingly refers to my unemployment... I don't know who he thinks he's kidding though. He'll be eating those words in a few years when "dead weight" turns into "bread-winner.")

So I just laid out in my backyard for a grand total of 26 minutes. I may already be sunburned. I am definitely dehydrated. Apparently, the heat index is 116 today. It is making me re-think the tanning bed. Ugh... but it's the principle. I just can't do it. Maybe I'll get a kiddie pool...

Anyway, if you're avoiding the outdoors in this ridiculous heat-advisory weather (unlike myself), I highly recommend reading "The Help." It. Is. So. Good! That's all for now, folks. New pictures coming soon!

Party like it's 1999

2011-05-12T09:51:00.000-05:00

Back in March, my Mamaw turned 75! We threw her a big surprise birthday party. She's the only grandmother I've ever had, and I've always felt so lucky and blessed to have her in my life. She's so smart and so wise. It's a joke between my mom and I that Mamaw knows everything. I'll call my mom and ask her something about cooking or how to fix something or what have you. About half the time, Mama will say "I don't know. Call Mamaw." And I do. And Mamaw has an answer. Always. I don't know what'll happen to Mama and I when Mamaw isn't here anymore!

She and my Pap live 3 hours from where I grew up, but they were always so present. They'd drive 3 hours to watch me dance at a football game or play basketball. My grandparents are such loving, Christian people, and I'm so thankful for their example growing up. They've always put God and family first, and as I've grown up, I've realized that while I thought that was the norm, it's not for many people. There are a lot of people who don't have that kind of influence in their lives, and I'm so grateful that I did. I pray that mine and Matt's marriage is as successful as theirs. We laugh because they are always bickering and, well, making fun of each other, but I think they do it for their own entertainment. They've been together for almost 58 years. That seems hard to find these days, doesn't it? I told you; I'm a lucky gal.

So happy birthday (again), Mamaw! And thank you for being you.

Surprise!!

Typical: Uncle Tommy thinking he's funny, Matt on his phone, and Ryan being...Ryan.

My mom and her brothers.

I hope I'm as cute as my mom when I grow up.

Mamaw should be so proud, shouldn't she? I mean look at this. Who could ask for more? I mean that's some quality offspring.

Cousins! Can you tell we are related?

Mamaw and some of her friends. I know what you're thinking. This must've been a pretty rowdy party. You're right. There were 2 kids under age 5 on a sugar high.

Here we are. Jim and Shirley's clan. In all our glory. You're jealous, aren't you? I thought so.

Update for Emily

2011-03-29T11:41:00.000-05:00

[New post per request of Emily.]

Y'all. I am tired. So tired. OB/GYN is not for me. Well, I could do the obstetrics part, but not so much the gynecology part. Well, let me re-phrase that. I could do the OB part if babies were born nice and neatly between 8:00am and 5:00pm. However, such is not the case. Therefore, OB/GYN is not for me. I hope I never see another postmenopausal woman with urinary incontinence again.

I did like the OB part. I birthed a baby. I'm glad I got to do it. It's a really incredible experience that not many people get to have. I got to be the first person in the world to hold a child while it took its first breath! Birth is amazing. I mean, really. It is. Unless you're the one in labor, I guess. But that's for another decade of my life. Definitely not this one.

So for something that has nothing to do with anything that I just said, here are some pictures for ya. While I spent a month at home last semester doing a family medicine rotation in Hattiesburg, I played with my camera a lot. Because I worked 8-4:30, no weekends, and sometimes not on Fridays. Man, that was a lifetime ago. Blissful memories. Sigh.

Anyway, this was my month at home:

Katie is learning to sew. She's quite the seamstress, apparently.

Serious face.

Operation Christmas Child.

And last but not least, yesterday was my little pal's 2nd birthday!!! My Oscar Bob is growing up so fast. He enjoyed a funfetti cake mix cookie. I mean if that's not the cutest thing you've ever seen, you're lying to yourself.

Happy birthday, Occabob!!!

Kick-off to weddding season 2011

2011-02-04T17:37:00.000-06:00

A few of us gave our friends Macey and Barry a couple's wedding shower last weekend. Macey is in our class, and Matt Newman is friends with Barry, who works with Laura Miller, who is Matt Miller's wife, who is also in our class. You got that? We're all friends. Macey and Barry may be the funniest people that I know. I wish that I had an audio clip of Barry's horror and the boys' rapid escape to the back porch when some interesting girl-talk ensued after everyone had had a couple of drinks. I'll leave that to your imaginations. We had a grand time, though.

Hey girrrrl... I like those plates!

Typical.

Elna (our classmate Andy's wife... they're sort of newlyweds too!) and the other Matt and Laura's baby, Jackson. I mean, is that not the cutest little human being you've ever seen???

This is ridiculous.

Another classmate, Jessie. Also a hilarious individual.

The bride-to-be with the hostesses! [The other] Laura, Mubina, Macey, me, and Hayes.

What a fun night! I can't wait for 3.19.11!

Not just a picture

2011-01-28T22:36:00.000-06:00

For Christmas this year, Matt gave me a very special gift. A month later, I'm finally going to finish this post!

As most of you know, my Papaw Buster died last summer. At his visitation, my cousins had collected various photographs to display, and among them was a picture that I'd never seen before. It was an old, black and white photo of my Papaw and his brother, my Uncle Lovey. The special thing about this picture was that my Papaw was standing up! I'd only seen one other picture of him standing up before.

I remember how tall my Uncle Lovey was, and in the picture, it looks like Papaw is even slightly taller than him! I just loved the picture so much. He was tall, young, and strong. He was wearing a white suit with his hands in his pockets. We don't know what they were doing or where they were going. We think that Papaw must have been around 19 or 20. I don't know what it is about the picture, but I just love it. I framed it and put it on the shelf in our living room.

Fast forward to November-ish. Matt has a client who is an artist. His specialty is pointillism. While I was away on my Family Medicine rotation in Hattiesburg, Matt took my favorite picture out of its frame, copied it, and put it back. He gave the copy to his artist-friend who created the most incredible, special gift I've ever received.

The pictures don't do the artwork justice. The whole thing is made of tiny, tiny pen dots. The skill and talent that this artist has is absolutely mind-blowing to me (I mean, I can't draw stick people). It looks EXACTLY like the actual photograph. Every detail. Every wrinkle in their pants, the broken step on Grandpa Arnold's back porch, the shoelaces. Incredible. Papaw is the one in the white suit with the bow-tie. It makes me so happy.

When Matt gave me the picture, tears filled my eyes, but it was the sweet note that he had written in a card that made me cry so hard. He wrote, "Laura, I know how much your grandfather meant to you. This artwork was done by a gentleman named Glenn Sanford, and the form of art is called pointillism. I commissioned this artwork so that you will always remember what an inspiration he was to you, and the reason you want to be a doctor. I will always miss Buster and his stories, and I know you will too. I hope that every time you look at this artwork, you are inspired to always take one day at a time, to remember the strength that Buster had to overcome what was said to be impossible, and to become the doctor that always fights for her patients."

Wow. What a gift. It is hanging in our house now, but someday I want to hang it in my office, so that every single day I am reminded of why I do what I do. It makes me smile everyday. I like having the image of him standing up. It reminds me of the fact that that's what he's like now in Heaven--standing and walking in a perfect body.

Thank you, Matthew.

I'm getting MARRIED!!

2011-01-09T23:50:00.001-06:00

I'm so excited!! Matt and I got engaged last night! I wanted to share the perfect night that my fiancé (wow) planned for me. This story is so ridiculous.

So Matt tells me that his mom is getting an award at a special dinner for her 25 years of service with her job. Totally believable. She even texted me and told me that it really would mean a lot to her if we could both be there. So "coincidentally," my residents gave us Saturday off, and I didn't have to come in until noon on Sunday.

So we go to Huntsville. His mom also told me that the owner of the hotel gave her a massage and told her that she could bring someone else with her. So I enjoyed an hour long, deep tissue, full body massage to start what would turn out to be the best night of my life!

That night, we got all dressed up to go to this dinner. Matt begged me to wear this cocktail dress that he likes. I told him it was too formal for dinner. I told him I was not wearing it because I didn't want to be overdressed. I think my exact words were, "It's going to be old ladies in pant suits!" His mom guilt-tripped me into wearing the dress (she actually bought it for me last Christmas). I wasn't happy about it, but I wore it. (I absolutely love the dress, but I just thought I'd be way overdressed.) Later, I'd be glad I wore it!

So we get to the restaurant, called Cotton Row, in downtown Huntsville. He said we were there for "Debbie Newman." They took us down to a wine cellar, where there was a long table set for 8 and candlelit. The waitress filled our water glasses and left us alone. I just thought we were the first ones there. Suddenly, Matt stood up, said "Well, this is all a big surprise," and walked around to my side of the table. It took me a second to figure out what was going on. He pulled a little box out of his pocket, and I said, "OHHH...!" He got down on his knee and asked me to marry him. I said, "Of course!" I squealed a little, cried a little, and smiled a lot. I said, "So Cathy (the hotel owner) didn't get me that massage today, did she?" He laughed and said, "Nope."

The waitress came back with champagne, and Matt started telling me about all the lies he'd been telling me (and how I "ask too many damn questions!") He also informed me that I was actually off of work the next day (I was supposed to get up and leave Huntsville at 6am to be back at the hospital at noon for a night on call). Little did I know that my friends Morgan and Lyssa had worked it out with my resident to let me off on Sunday. So apparently half my medicine team knew all week that I was getting engaged! That "be here at noon" business was just enough to make me think I could go to Huntsville and get back in time. Lyssa didn't want me to get suspicious if he gave "us" the whole weekend off (because that never happens). Not to worry, Lyssa; I was clueless. I mean Matt thought of everything! So then I just think we are going to have a romantic dinner-for-two in this cozy little wine cellar. Wrong.

About 10 minutes later, I hear some footsteps coming down the wooden stairs. Then I see my mom! My family (minus my dad, who couldn't get out of his night on call :( the only downside to the whole evening) and his family were there! What a surprise! My family lives five hours away, so I was completely shocked to see them there! We sat down and had a wonderful dinner (Matt even had the restaurant make personalized menus for us that said "Congratulations, Laura and Matt!" and the date at the top. I was very impressed with his attention to detail. (He even made my family take the hotel shuttle to the restaurant because he didn't want to risk me seeing one of their cars downtown!) We drank champagne and they laughed about all of the things that they'd had to keep secret, and all of the things Matt had been doing and freaking out about.

We enjoyed dessert, and just when I thought my perfect night was over, I heard nothing short of a herd of people walking down the noisy wooden steps. I screamed when I saw that my very best friends, Sandidge and Emily, and several of our close friends from college all came walking through the door! Emily's boyfriend, John, was taking pictures, and I can't wait to see the look on my own face! I was shocked for the third time! They had been in on it the whole time, and Matt later showed me a long chain of facebook messages where they had planned and arranged what Ben (Matt's best friend) had dubbed "Operation About-Damn-Time." So funny. I think Ben missed his calling. Apparently he should've been an event coordinator!! Matt gave Ben instructions, and Ben called all of our friends, arranged a time and place to meet, arranged a carpool of sorts, and stuck to a tight schedule for them to make their grand entrance!

After their surprise appearance, we made our way down the street to a swanky little bar where the whole upstairs room was reserved just for us. We talked, laughed, and enjoyed each other's company until late into the night. It was so funny to hear how they'd all been involved. They had all eaten dinner together, so all of our friends that had never met already knew everything about each other!

It was an absolutely PERFECT night. I could not have asked for more! It was the coolest, most intimate setting, and I got to share it with my closest friends and family! There were a few people that Matt wanted to be there that couldn't make it, but it was still so perfect. I still can't believe that SO many people knew about it, and no one slipped and gave it away! I'm really impressed! Matt thought of every little detail. We even had a breakfast this morning at his mom's hotel. The chef prepared a special, private breakfast for us, so we all got to visit together before everyone left town. Perfect. So absolutely perfect. (And my ring is pretty amazing if I do say so myself!!)

I just still can't believe it's real! We are so excited, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with my Matthew! He's so wonderful, and I feel so loved every single day. I can't wait to be Mrs. Newman! (For a little while... then it's Dr. Newman!! Ahhh!!)

Thank you, Matt, for such a perfect weekend. I love you more than anything, and I can't wait to be your WIFE!!!

This is when my family first got there, and my mom ran to me first. This picture is after she finally let go of me and quit crying. Haha.. typical. Love you, Mama :)

Reading a sweet card from my mom.

I hate this hand-on-the-lapel, cheesy, stereotypical engagement photo. My mama made me do it. Just so you know.

We managed to spend half the afternoon with Chris, Cecilia, and their sweet baby Savannah without my finding anything out. Cecilia told me last night that it was killing her not to just scream with excitement!

Maid of honor :)

Love. this. boy.

You cannot possibly imagine my excitement in this photo!

Matt's mom got me this charm for my Pandora bracelet that has our engagement date engraved on it.

Chrimmatime in review

2011-01-04T15:39:00.003-06:00

I hope you had a MERRY CHRISTMAS! I did. I enjoyed my week and a half of freedom. Mostly I enjoyed not having a 4:30am alarm clock. I made my own set of wreaths for my front door. I'm extremely proud of this. I am not a crafty person. Creativity and craftiness is my sister's gift, not mine. I think they're ok, but I have big plans for better wreaths for next year. Our tree is a little Ethiopian, if you don't mind the absolutely not politically correctness of that statement. I am also not a PC kind of person... in case you haven't noticed. I decided it was pretty bare, as you could see the wall through the Charlie Brown branches of our fake Christmas tree, so I threw some tinsel on it. It helped. Historically, I haven't been a tinsel kind of gal, but I think I just became one. I like it.

It was a very different Christmas this year without my Papaw Buster, but it helped me remember and focus on what Christmas is all about. Papaw spent this Christmas in Heaven! It was also the first time in more than 30 years that he celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ with his wife, and that really, truly does bring joy to my heart.

This was also the first Christmas I spent with Matt's family. He always comes to our big family Christmas get-togethers, but his family usually has theirs on Christmas day, so I haven't spent it with them before. This year they had it early, and it was such a fun, relaxing weekend at Lake Guntersville! Matt's gift to me was the most wonderful, perfect, special gift I think I've ever received. I am working on a post about it. It is a story of its own. You'll just have to wait :)

This is also the first time in a very long time that I have not watched A Christmas Story. Not one single time. I usually watch it no less than 5 times, but this year sleep was far more enticing than movies. I did a lot of sleeping on the couch. I guess that way I felt more like I was at least around my family, even if I was unconscious. I did watch It's a Wonderful Life. One of my favorites. And my dad and I watched about 5 episodes of Locked Up. There was a marathon on Christmas day. What a weird thing to watch on Christmas day...

So here are a few of my favorite pictures from Christmas break.

I bought this ornament last year for like 25 cents, and I think Katie named it Herbert.

Lake Guntersville

The new bridge at home! Fancy, huh?

My FAVORITE Christmas Eve dinner!

My father, of all people, taught me a little trick I've gone almost 25 years without knowing. It changed my life. Did you have any idea that if you just brush the end of your hairdryer with a toothbrush it gets all of the fuzz out?! It's so easy. And fast. How did my dad know that and I didn't?? That little gem was a Christmas present in itself!

Only in the MS Delta.

An original oil painting that I bought in Spain 3 years ago. I finally got it framed.

Love this one.

Not cute. Matt would not participate. But he feels left out when I do not include him in my blog! So there is our one and only Christmas picture, turd.

You know you're old when you ask for a tie organizer for Christmas.

Sandidge and Vegas came to visit!!!

Welcome, 2011. Welcome to my life.

Chelsea

2010-12-05T15:37:00.000-06:00

I have been so busy lately, and so many things have happened in the past month that I want to blog about. I'll be catching up soon. But for today, I just want to say a little something about our sweet Chelsea.

Many of you know Chelsea, but for those of you who don't, she is our fluffy, white, lovable pekepoo. I came home from Bible drill in February of 1996 to a huge surprise--the puppy Katie and I had been begging for! I remember how tiny she was and how excited I was. I was 9 years old.

Chelsea died Wednesday, December 1, just shy of her 15th birthday. Mama called me on my way home from the hospital and told me that the end was very near. I'm so thankful that I got to go home and see her one last time. My family gathered around her bed, petted her, and loved her. We cried and cried, but I'm so glad that we were all there around her when she passed away.

Chelsea always had painted toenails, and she's been in nearly every Christmas card picture we've taken for the last 15 years. She used to attack basketballs, and she was an avid squirrel-chaser in her younger days. She's had some pretty rough haircuts, when a new groomer very mistakenly thought we'd like more "poodle" in her 'do. We liked her fluffy. And mama would kill someone if they cut her tail hair. Mama was very picky about Chelsea's 'do.

It's a strange feeling that she's gone. I can hardly remember not having her. She was the best dog. We are going to miss her so, so much, but she gave our family so much JOY for the last 15 years.

Chelsea loved a good walk.

I love this picture.. I don't know what the heck is all over her face, but she looks like she's laughing.

She did not like to be dressed in clothes. She was not a happy camper for this photo shoot.

Love you, Chels.

Critters: Chapter 2, Armadillos

2010-11-02T22:59:00.000-05:00

You might live in the country [aka, the KAWN-tree] if you see your neighbor in the bushes with a flashlight and a gun at 9:45pm on a Tuesday, and you know exactly what he's doing: killin' armadillers, of course.

You might live in the kawn-tree if said neighbor then calls you at 10:00pm to victoriously announce that he has indeed executed yet another flower bed-digging monster (and your family cheers in celebration).

You might live in the kawn-tree if your neighbor yells across the half-acre of property between your houses, "We're winning the fight!" And you know exactly what he's talking about.

You also might live in the kawn-tree if you see deer walking up your driveway.

I love the kawn-tree. It's exciting 'round here, what with all this nature.

Afternoon Adventures, Part 1

2010-10-27T22:40:00.000-05:00

I started this post while I was on my 2-week "independent study," i.e., my 2 week break. My break wasn't exactly geared toward productivity. I slept until almost noon more days than I should probably admit. I feel like I should be slightly ashamed of that, but it was the best dadgum thing that's happened to me since sliced bread. (As if I've ever known a world without sliced bread.)

I pretty much did nothing for 14 days. It was glorious.

By the time Matt got home everyday, boredom had usually begun to take hold. One lovely afternoon, I convinced him to go on a drive with me. I wanted to take pictures of something besides Oscar Bob and Grayce. I mean, I love them, but I need new subject matter. I'm really getting into this camera, if you haven't noticed.

So he drove toward Flora, looking for nothing in particular. I saw this group of horses, and I wanted to take pictures of them. I love horses. And cows. I really love cows. I've been telling Matt that I need to own a cow someday. I don't know what it is about them. I just want one. Can I have a cow for a pet? I don't see why not. I would just love to photograph it, pet it, milk it. I'm being serious.

Anyway, I wanted to photograph these horses. They're beautiful creatures. Majestic. Well, we pulled into this little cemetery that bordered the pasture about the time the horses all started trotting away from us, toward a truck. I guess they were about to be fed. So much for my horse photo op. Much to my surprise, Matt started wandering around this cemetery. [Matt does not do cemeteries.] It was small, and most of the graves were from the 1800s or very early 1900s, many of them Civil War veterans' graves. We spent the next hour reading interesting things on very large tombstones and taking pictures. Weird? Maybe. But I loved some of the pictures.

That is a little baby's headstone that I'm assuming was probably placed at the foot of a much younger, smaller version of this tree. Fast forward 130 years, and the tree and its roots have grown all around it. I just thought it was interesting to physically see how time had passed. It looked safe and protected in the embrace of the tree. I liked it. Matt thought it was creepy. Of course.

To be continued.

Road Trip

2010-10-08T21:31:00.000-05:00

Last week, I took a little spontaneous road trip with my friends Bobby and Meagan. Don't get too excited... we just went to Vicksburg. Bobby had a photography business before med school, and I've been wanting to go somewhere and play with my new camera. He let me try some of his lenses and showed me a few things. Meagan just came along because she knew she could rope me into going to Fenian's at the end of the day... She was right. We had a grand ol' time. We listened to Ghetto Cowboy on the way, which always puts me in a fun mood. (Stop laughing; you know you like that song. I'm proud to say I still know about 90% of the lyrics.)

When we got there, we went down by the river to a cool little spot with murals and railroad tracks. Here are a few of my favorite pictures.

The adventure ended with a shrimp po'boy at a quaint little place called Rusty's... and a neon pink gorilla.

What a perfect day!

The Blinds Project

2010-10-04T21:13:00.000-05:00

My front door has lots of windows. Big windows that open right into my living room. Big windows that allow people on the street to see what channel I'm watching at night. I mean, if there were people on the street. I basically live on the moon, so it's generally not a problem. However, after 2 years of living here, I decided it's time to put some blinds up.

God, help us.

Matt accompanied me to Lowe's--a decision that he would later regret. I debated on which blinds to purchase for quite some time. Blinds vs. shades? Light vs. dark? Which specific shade of color? Bamboo vs. whatever that other material was. Ahhh... Matt was ready to kill me. "Just freakin' pick something!"

Conveniently, my sister's boyfriend, Chris, just happened to show up on this particular day. I'm sure that was a decision he would later regret as well. You see, Chris is quite handy. And my door is a weird shape. Who makes a door with curved windows at the top?? That is not conducive to blind installation. And the size of my wallet is not conducive to custom blinds.

Anyway, I was hell-bent on putting these suckers up myself. I was going to feel so accomplished. So victorious. So capable.

Well. So much for that. After turning the blinds around 7 or 18 different times, reading the directions more times than that, and hollerin' "Hey Chris? What exactly is a wingnut??", Chris comes waltzing in and hands me what apparently is a wingnut. He kindly offers to assist me. Assisting turned into doing.

Well, next time I'll be able to do it myself. Dangit.

Notice Matt in the reflection being ever-so-helpful.

Katie, you're such a freak.

Matt now being helpful, Katie still being... Katie. And Polo being Polo. I mean look at that toolbag. How did I think I could take on this project with my little, pink, graduation gift from high school toolbox?

The finished project. Such a relief that all those people out in the streets won't be able to see all up in my business. Whew.

Grayce's happy about it too.

Gameday!

2010-10-02T18:05:00.000-05:00

I love Saturdays.

I love Saturdays more when I don't have to be up before dawn.

I love Saturdays even more during the months of September, October, and November.

I love GAME DAY.

Matt and I scored some sweet tickets from a friend for the first game of the season. We sat in The Zone, and we got a little taste of heaven. (Define heaven: being able to sit in the A/C during a September game.)

Ah, college... I miss you so.

This may be the best idea anyone has ever had:

Bahahaha....

Anyway, since Matt and I are far too poor to afford season tickets at Alabama, and even if we weren't too poor, we'd be on a waiting list until at least the next decade, we have since been enjoying our own little gameday festivities on the homefront.

Matt's mom sent Grayce and Oscar Bob a little gameday happy in the mail. Grayce was not amused. [She's saying, "If you don't get this $%*# off of me in the next 10 seconds, I am going to sink my huge, sharp teeth into your flesh and rip it off."]

Oscar didn't mind as much.

If you were worried that Matt was left out, fret no longer. My cousin Malisa had a little prize for Matt a few weeks ago. She ran across this beauty and couldn't resist. Matt wore it proudly (in the privacy of our own living room, blinds down, after a couple of stout coke and rums). He even let me take his picture! (Now he's going to kill me for posting it on the internet...)

Aren't they precious? (Make sure you note the Alabama "A" on the pocket.) See how happy Matt is in his new shirt?! Thanks Malisa!

My favorite picture of the day:

Roll tide!

On another note, my Mamaw and Pap celebrated their 58th wedding anniversary this week! I feel like that is such a rare feat these days. We are so blessed to have such a Godly, loving example of marriage at the center of our family. Happy anniversary, Mam and Pap! We love you!

my love

2010-09-15T22:29:00.000-05:00

I love this little man.

My Oscar Bob. Look at that face! Ah. Love of my life.

He's so little and sweet and soft. He likes to nap as much as I do. And he's a good snuggler. He is always excited to see me when I get home. Shoot, even if I go pee, he's excited to see me when I walk back out the bathroom door. Maybe he has short term memory problems...

Anyway, OB doesn't mind that I'm a little messy. He doesn't tell me to pick my shoes up off the floor. He doesn't complain if I'm a little moody. He's pretty much always interested in what I have to say. He likes The Bachelor and Criminal Minds. He's such a good little pal.

All this guy wants in life is someone to throw his tennis ball.

I can do that.

They say people with dogs tend to live longer. I get that.

Movin' on

2010-09-14T15:14:00.003-05:00

Well, thanks be to the LORD that I'm done with Psychiatry. I guess that was harsh. I mean, it was fine, but it's just not my thing. I like to do things. I like to fix things. I just don't get these people. I wanted to roll my eyes and say things like "Please." or "Stop acting like that." I don't think that should be the kind of attitude a good Psychiatrist has. Thus, I think I've checked it off my list of future careers.

Yesterday I started ENT, and after a morning of cleaning large amounts of earwax out of old men's ears, my love of medicine had been renewed. I was strangely satisfied by those clean ear canals. However, before I move on, I wanted to summarize my experience in Psychiatry because it was definitely interesting and largely entertaining at times. There were so many good stories, but in lieu of violating confidentiality and being targeted by the HIPAA Nazis, I'll just leave you with a few quotes:

"I have no empathy for this guy. In fact, I'd like to set him on fire. Don't you? Just a little bit?"

"The cold. It's in my mouth. The jaw keeps puttin' it there." (Repeat statement x15 days.)

Patient: "Please don't make me go through the obstacle course. Especially the haystacks. I can't go through the haystacks."

Doctor: "Yeah... we should really stop making people do that."

"Can somebody explain to me why I pay this institution $14,000 a year, and I can ONLY have 2 pairs of scrubs, but the borderline who overdosed for attention then vomited all over her clothes gets to have them? And the schizophrenic with syphilis who has his own pajama pants is sporting a pair? And this noncompliant, no-pay going to Whitfield gets some? Are you freakin kidding me?! We deserve two more pieces of $5 blue cloth!"

(Next day, in a patient's room) Attending: "Let's get out of here before Laura goes into a blind rage because the patient is wearing scrubs."

"Wouldn't you be upset if (the tech) gave you a bath every morning? I can see that. Tyler, tomorrow, let Andrew give you a bath and see if it makes you aggressive. Then we'll reasses."

"Does [the 60-something year old patient] really have breast implants?"

"I don't know."

"Find out. Physical exam."

"Oh, God.."

"I'm kidding."

"[Something about nitrous oxide.]"

"Did he just say to get the patient some socks and an erection??"

"Does anybody know what just happened??"

[I can't stop laughing while trying to present a patient case.]

"Are you going to be able to get it together?"

"I don't think so. There's a bit of an exhibition going on in the group room behind you."

"Was that Santa Claus? Did you see that guy? Wow. Christmas in July, huh?"

"Sir, I think Don King has filed a class-action lawsuit against you."

"I don't get it. I just don't understand why anybody would..."

"Stop. Do not try to understand. What floor are we on?"

"Oh. Right. 7th."

"Exactly."

"Cannibal. Butcher. That's really all you need to know."

"Bye-bye, Mr. Vampire."

"Do you want to be admitted to the inpatient psychiatric unit? We can give you some treatments to get these voices to go away."

"But I kinda like the voice. He seems nice. I'm comfortable with him."

"You don't want the voice to go away?"

"Not really. I might get lonely."

"Does anybody know how much you can buy Xanax for on the streets?"

"10 bucks?"

"Damn boy, you must be buying yo' Xanax in Eastover. Try again."

............and my favorite,

"Call Condoleezza Rice! Condoleezza knows the truth!"

It was quite an experience, to say the least, but it's time to move on.

Critters: Chapter 1, The Rattlesnake

2010-09-02T18:00:00.001-05:00

This may be one of those you-had-to-be-there kind of stories, but I swear this is one of the funniest things that has ever happened to me.

I'm kind of minimally afraid of snakes. I mean, I guess I'd probably freak out if I had a surprise close encounter with an unknown species in the wilderness, but as long as I know I'm a safe distance, I kind of like to watch them. I like to look at them at the pet store. I have held non-poisonous ones in controlled environments. It makes me feel brave. I think they're interesting creatures. All this really has nothing to do with my story.

A few weeks ago, my dad, my uncle, my sister, and I were returning from my Papaw's visitation. My family lives in the country. I mean, the cowntry. So we pull into the long, gravel driveway in my dad's F150. We are in the woods. The sticks, if you will. He and my uncle are wearing suits. Katie and I are wearing dresses and heels. It's solemn. I remember being so emotionally and physically exhausted, I was almost numb.

Suddenly, the quiet, sad mood was interrupted as my dad slammed on the brakes and I flew forward into the back of the front passenger seat. "What the crap?!" No response. He threw it into reverse, and slammed on the accelerator, as we all sustained whiplash. "Daddy!" Uncle Gary could see what was going on, but Katie and I, in the backseat, were bewildered. Finally, after we had repeated this accelerate-brake-reverse sequence a couple more times, he mumbled "Rattlesnake." Except I thought he said something about a rabbit. Now I thought for a split second that my father was running over bunnies. I was mortified. What does he have against rabbits?? These thoughts were fleeting, though, because I suddenly saw what we were killing. Oh my gah. It was a 5-foot-ish rattlesnake.

Mike Arnold had no intentions of letting that sucker live. Suddenly, he grabs a pistol and jumps out of the truck. I see him raise the gun toward the snake, then he lowers it. He yells, "I can't see!" He comes back around the car door, and I see that his glasses are fogged up. I howled. Here is my dad, in a suit, trying to kill a snake at 11:00 at night, and his glasses are fogged up. It was hilarious. He wiped them off. They fogged back up. I laughed. He took them off; he still couldn't see. I was crying I was laughing so hard.

At this point, Katie has gotten out of the truck. She wants to see. My uncle is yelling at her. (My Uncle Gary will be the first person to tell you he wants nothing to do with a snake.) So he's yelling, "Katie! Get in the truck! Get back in the truck! He's not dead!" My father realizes that she is definitely within striking distance, and yanks her back toward the truck. Chaos. Yelling. Fogging.

Everyone gets back in the truck. We drive up to the house, and these two men on a mission go inside the house. I thought this ordeal was over, and I stayed outside to make a phone call. Moments later, daddy and Uncle Gary return with my other uncle and a shotgun. Please visualize this: 3 men in suits and ties walking side-by-side down a long, pitch-dark, gravel driveway with a shotgun and a spotlight. I cracked up again. A shotgun? Really? It's not a buffalo. It's a snake. But I guess they probably know more about snake-killing than I do. Who do I think I am? I wish I had a picture. It was very Men in Black, yet very Franklin County. I could not stop laughing. A couple of cousins came outside, and I couldn't even speak. I had been so sad all day, and I don't know if I was delirious or if my soul was in such need of a moment of happiness, but I couldn't stop laughing. My stomach hurt. I probably snorted. I'm sure the snake was dead. They, apparently, were not so confident. I watch them walk down in silence, out of sight.

BOOM!

Silent pause.

BOOM!

Footsteps.

The Men in Black reappeared, victorious.

Uncle Gary, the snake-hater, was grinning. "We made him a Christian."

Amen.

delivery.

2010-08-26T15:46:00.000-05:00

I hate snail mail. Perhaps it is due to my upbringing in this digital generation. No instant gratification involved with the United States Postal Service, that's for sure. Or, maybe it's just due to the fact that, let's be honest, patience isn't exactly my greatest attribute.

I'd been waiting for my camera for 7 days. Everyday I'd get so excited when I got home, rush to check by the front door, only to be disappointed. No package. Deflation.

USPS, why did you have to go from Kentucky to Minnesota to Southaven, MS, then back to Minnesota? You were so close! The government is irritating in so many ways. That could be a blog post. "100+ ways the government annoys me." (Side note: the mailmen and women do not annoy me. They're friendly people.)

Finally, yesterday, there was indeed a package by the door. DELIVERY. It felt like Christmas. Wahoo!! I'm so excited. I might have hugged the mailman if I had seen him. Fortunately for him, I did not.

I've been reading and experimenting. If you have any photography tips, holler!

So, let me catch you up on my life... with new pictures!

First of all, there is a lizard that lives in and around my Gerbera daisy. We named him Clarence after we watched the movie Airplane. "Roger, Roger. We have clearance, Clarence. What's our vector, Victor?" You should only watch that movie if you've had 2 or more martinis. Otherwise, you won't make it. So here's Clarence:

He's pretty cool. Grayce discovered him, and she sits by the window that's in front of this table and stares at him. She punches the window and whines. It's pretty funny.

Clarence:

Grayce wanting to eat Clarence:

I really, really hope that she doesn't eat Clarence. Sick.

Last night, a few girls came over and ate dinner. I made chicken salad. Yummmm. I took a picture of it, but I didn't take any the rest of the night. I know, I know... brand new camera and I didn't take any pictures! It needed to charge completely, and we were so busy catching up and laughing at Jessie and Lyssa's stories, I just forgot. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. It was good for my soul. And my abs.

And then I took a picture of my apples just because 1) I liked the colors and 2) I have a new camera.

Today, I took these pictures of Grayce and Oscar Bob. This little scenario happens at least 3 times a day. If you know Oscar Bob, you know he is obsessed with his tennis ball. I've never seen anything like it in my life. Well, Grayce's favorite thing to do is take it away from him, and stare at him while he whines. She's such a bully.

Oscar's just playing. Minding his own business.

Grayce steals his ball and gloats. She doesn't even want it. She just keeps it where he can't get it.

Oscar cries. Please notice how he is sitting on the pillow.

Poor buddy. He's hard to take pictures of because he's always moving. They always end up at least a little blurry. This little man does not sit still. Eva.

Look at those claws. Talons.

Lastly, this is one of my favorite pictures of Grayce. I just love that sad face. I took this with my old camera, and I was just messing around with effects. It's not a very good quality picture because it was dark, but I like how it turned out.

Gotta go. Grayce is in a frenzy and I think she's about to claw through the window to get to Clarence.

my BIG purchase

2010-08-18T18:39:00.000-05:00

My sister is impulsive. She buys purses like she's Paris Hilton. She is a t-shirt-and-Nike-shorts kind of girl, but somehow she has a much more impressive wardrobe than I do... which is pretty unfortunate, considering she just moved out. Bye-bye, cute clothes, earrings, and purses that I've been using for the past 2 years... Sad day. Sigh.

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that I am not impulsive by any stretch of the imagination. I'm a saver. She's a spender. I like to look at my savings account and see a good chunk of change in it. It makes me feel good about life. I like knowing that I can buy something if I want to. I wonder if Katie even has a savings account?

She's getting annoyed reading this. Katie, come back. I miss you... (and your clothes.)

So last night I did a very difficult thing for me. I pretty much depleted my savings account. It was so hard. I hesitated. Twice. At least. But now that I'm (almost) over my pretty-much-nonexistent-savings-account, I'm getting pretty pumped about my prize.

I bought a Canon Rebel T1i Digital SLR camera. WAHOO!! I'm pretty dadgum excited about it. I ordered it, so I won't get it for a few more days, but ohhh buddy I'm ready to take some pictures. I've been reading about apertures, shutter speeds, and ISO speeds. That makes me feel cool. Not that I have any idea what I'm doing. I mean, I'm qualified to hold a camera. That's about it. I'm excited to learn though! Matt even bought me a photography magazine... and a milkshake that gave me a stomachache, but that's another story.

So, there ya go, Mama. I posted a new blog for ya.

And if anyone was considering stealing my identity, don't bother. I ain't got nothin' in the bank.

Tuesday update.

2010-08-04T18:47:00.000-05:00

I started my Psychiatry rotation yesterday. Looks like I have six weeks of pretty good quality entertainment ahead of me. That's terrible to say... but let's be honest... it's true. I mean, apparently I just missed Jesus in the ER yesterday. Dadgummit.

(Also, just so you know, Condoleezza Rice knows the truth.)

In other news, just in case you weren't aware, the heat index reached 120 in Jackson today. Humidity above 80%. ONE HUNDRED TWENTY DEGREES FAHRENHEIT. I don't know what the actual temperature was, but who cares? What difference does it make if it felt like 120!!! (You know, I don't really get that whole "heat index" thing. Maybe this is the dumbest statement I've ever made, but I mean, if it feels like 120 degrees, how is that not the temperature? What's the point of an actual temperature if that's not what it feels like? I mean, is it just humans? Was it a mere 105 degrees for Oscar Bob today? Did my plant enjoy the actual temperature or did it "feel like" 120 to my gerbera daisy? See what I mean? Dumb. If it feels like 120, it is 120 as far as I'm concerned.) This is a joke. I can't live in this oppressive sauna much longer. Where am I? Death Valley? Ethiopia? Hell?? I need popsicles.

It's SHARK WEEK!!!!

One word of advice: if you or your loved one is ever unfortunate enough to have to be in the ICU, do not, under any circumstances, feel as if it is okay to light up a cigarette inside the ICU. Good grief. I mean, I didn't think people were that stupid, but as Rhonda would say, that's what I get for thinkin'. No cigs in the ICU. Thanks.

Somebody remind me to give Oscar Bob his heartworm pill tomorrow. Gracias.

Happy Tuesday.

spray paint, escape routes, and cows

2010-08-01T00:17:00.000-05:00

I really need to stop watching HGTV. It's making me feel like my home decor is crappy, and I've been on a home improvement rampage. I rearranged the furniture, bought a flower pot, cleaned out and reorganized the guest room and closet (tubs complete with labels... my mother wouldn't believe it.), refinished a chest of drawers (well, in the process.. we'll see how it turns out..), and bought a new bedspread (which I've needed since Grayce peed and vomited on the one I had a year and a half ago. I've been using random, unmatching blankets... My room looked like a boy's college dorm room.)

So here is my semi-finished table project. I spray-painted his table that was brown and rusty. Mama, are you proud? My mother thinks you can spray paint absolutely anything. She loves to spray paint. That's her answer to everything.. "We could spray paint it!" Seriously. Everything.

Well, it's not quite done. Who chooses the hottest week of the summer to do outside projects? Genius. It needs another coat, but until Wal-Mart re-supplies their Ivy Leaf spray paint inventory and/or the temperature drops below 100 degrees, it's on hold. I like it. I have been looking for cushions for the chairs, but you would not believe how difficult it is to find round outdoor cushions! I mean nowhere. So anyway, semi-finished. Good enough for now.

On an entirely different note, one of our locks is broken. I don't know what happened, but when I tried to unlock the deadbolt today, it resulted in this:

Awesome. During this process, the lock was not unlocked. So our back door is deadbolted, and I don't have a key to open it. Now, that would be fine, except that there are 3 dogs in my house right now. They needed to pee. It was 110 degrees outside. I had been awake since 5am on this lovely Saturday morning. I was not in the mood to walk 3 dogs in the suffocating heat. So I let them out the window... duh. It turned into quite the escapade. Oscar thought it was the neatest thing ever. He jumped in and out of the window about 6 times. Just back and forth. Then he got his tennis ball from the yard, came back, and dropped it inside the window for me to throw. When I finally got him back in, every time I tried to shut the window, he tried to jump back out. Ridiculous dog. Polo just went out the window as if he does that everyday. The idea scared the crap out of Grayce at first. She wouldn't go through it. I had to push her out. She's a big dog, by the way. She just turned and looked at me from outside as if I'd lost my mind. The funniest thing was about an hour later, Grayce went over to the window and pawed at it (instead of the back door). Haha.. smart dog. (By the way, I went out the window too. My flower needed watering!)

Ok, so lastly, I have this fascination with these cows. [Stop laughing.] Every day on my way to and from UMC, I pass these cows. There are tons of them, and there are lots of little baby cows. Um, calves, I guess... Anyway, during the summer, they all stand in the pond. Just stand there. I like to watch them. I don't know why. It's not like I've never seen cows before. So for a while I've wanted to take pictures of them. They're in this field with a silo-looking thing, a pond, and an old white farmhouse in the background. I mean it just looks like it should be photographed. So the other day, I decided to take a picture. I didn't even get the farmhouse. There was too much traffic on the road, so I'll have to get some better ones later. I know right now you're thinking that I've lost my mind. Who cares about cows on the side of the highway? Maybe I should start sleeping more. Yes, definitely should get more sleep...

Ok... speaking of sleep... Buenas noches, amigas.

New things

2010-07-25T15:59:00.000-05:00

I'm getting old. I have a house plant. Yep. I do. I have two of them, actually. And I feel this huge responsibility and, well, burden to keep them alive. So far so good. One of them is called a prayer plant. It's so beautiful! It was actually a plant that Mama, Mike, Mamaw, and Pap sent when Papaw passed away. There were so many flowers and plants that the funeral home stopped taking them and put the rest on a "hold account." Basically, people bought flowers, but the actual order was held. We'll just go get them whenever we want to put new flowers out there. I swear there are enough flowers to last another 15 years. So anyway, I brought this plant home. At first, I didn't want one. I didn't want to look at a plant and think of my Papaw's funeral everyday. I decided that it would just remind me of him, not of a certain day or place or time. It does. I think it's pretty ironic that it's a "prayer plant," considering the circumstances. It's pretty. It's homey. I like it.

So I went over to my cousin Paige's house, and she has quite the collection of house plants. I was telling her that I'm trying my hardest not to kill my one plant. So what does she do? She gives me another one! I'm pretty dadgum excited about this one. It's an aloe plant. I told Mama that I hoped someone gets burned soon so I could whip it out, break a leaf off, and use it! I know that's terrible. I just meant a small, first degree, wimpy burn. Don't worry, I'm not going to throw boiling water on any houseguests. Be not afraid. Grayce may eat it first, anyway.

I guess actually I have 3 plants. One stays outside though. I'm pretty proud of it. Mama gave me and Katie both a gerbera daisy for Easter. I don't know why. She knows I don't do plants. However, I did keep it alive for about a month. Then I went home for a month to study for the Step. Do you think Katie watered my plant? Absolutely not. AND it got put on the ground (as opposed to the table where it lives), and Polo peed on it! Repeatedly! Upon my return, my plant was pretty dead. Hers was dead too, but she wasn't as heartbroken as I was. (Who do you think had been watering her plant since Easter?) Mine had a little bit of green left in a couple of stems, so per my mother's instructions, I cut off all the dead parts and started watering it. Lo and freakin behold it came back to life! I'm thrilled. I took some pretty pictures of them before. Mine is red; Katie's was pink. Before:

Red gerbera post-rebirth:

Enough with the plants. Gah.

I thought I was going to have one more "new" thing to put on my post, but thanks to Bonnie, it'll have to wait. Project spraypaint-my-rusty-old-iron-table has been postponed. Stay tuned.

Lastly, I just want to say that I've received so many messages, comments, emails, and texts about my last post. Thank you all for your sweet words, but I just spoke the truth. My grandfather was, is, and always will be an inspiration for me. I'm so lucky to have had such an extraordinary man in my life for so long :)

Papaw Buster

2010-07-19T18:50:00.010-05:00

Most of you who read my blog know that my Papaw died last week. He was absolutely an amazing man. He means so much to me, and I want to share his incredible story.

"I am now ready. I fought a good fight. I have kept the faith. There is laid up for me a crown of righteousness." 2 Timothy 4:6-8

Papaw's name was Harry, but most people apparently didn't know that. He went by "Buster." He was one of nine children born to my great-grandparents, Ma and Grandpa Arnold (Ma lived to be 102 years old!). Being the last of 7 boys, I guess they'd run out of names because he was the only one that wasn't given a middle name. His oldest sister decided she wasn't thrilled about the name Harry and announced that she would be calling him Buster. And so she did. And so did everyone else. Once when he was in the hospital, I didn't know which room he was in, and I remember saying to Matt, "Do you think I should ask the desk about Harry or Buster?"

Papaw worked in the oil field. He was the driller. At the age of 39, he had an accident on one of those rigs that left him paralyzed. Being in medical school, I've heard so many professors and older doctors tell us that patients are not their diseases. He's not a paraplegic, he's a man who happens to be paralyzed. See the difference? Don't define the person by his illness. In Papaw's case, I don't want to define him by his condition, but I think that he is absolutely defined by his reaction to it.

He was 39 years old with 4 young children. Paralyzed. He'd never walk again. After his accident, doctors told my grandmother that he wouldn't live until nightfall. He did. Then they said he wouldn't live until morning. He did. Then they said he'd live a few days. He did. Then weeks, months. Then doctor after doctor told him that if he lived 5 or 6 years, he'd be lucky. That'd be a long life. Wrong. He lived 42 and a half years, which is unheard of. He watched his children grow up and give him 8 grandchildren. Then he got to know his 7 great-grandchildren. He outlived the doctors that told him he'd die. I think he thought that was funny, in a twisted sort of way.

The thing about my Papaw was that in my 24 years of life, I have never once heard him complain about being in a wheelchair. He was never bitter; he never said "why me?" He never got angry. He never gave up. He never used being paralyzed as an excuse for anything. I never knew him any differently, but I never thought he was really handicapped. He could get in and out of his chair and his bed by himself. He could get in and out of his car. He drove a blue Bonneville with hand controls, and I swear that must have been the biggest car ever made. That tan, leather backseat was big enough to do cartwheels in. He was an amazing cook, known from Franklin County to Jones County for his chili and coleslaw. He did laundry. He rolled his wheelchair out into the garden and picked vegetables. He shelled peas with the rest of us. He went anywhere he wanted to go. Just about the only thing he couldn't do was walk. He had a pair of wooden "arms"--pincher things so he could get things off the top shelf by himself. He made the best of his situation. He made it clear that he did not need anyone's help, either. His independence was everything to him. He couldn't put us up on his shoulders and carry us around as children, but he could let us stand on the spokes that stuck out behind his wheelchair and ride us around. We thought that was pretty fun. Even better than a shoulder ride.

I once heard someone ask him if he ever wished he could walk. His answer was that he could be worse off. He said that he was lucky that he still had use of his arms, so he could do anything he wanted. He went to Warm Springs, Georgia to a rehabilitation center after his accident. His roommate was a quadriplegic. Papaw helped him get in and out of bed, and he'd get him a glass of water at night and hold it up to his mouth so he could drink. Papaw says that that's where he learned that he was lucky to have his arms, that he was much better off than some people, and that he'd be alright. I don't know about you, but I'm not sure if that's the attitude I would've had. I believe that that attitude is the reason he lived so long. He made the most out of his condition. He learned to do everything he wanted to do. I'm not kidding when I say he didn't complain. Never.

Another amazing thing about Papaw is that I have never in my entire life heard him raise his voice in anger. One of my cousins recently realized this, and none of us can remember a single time when he yelled at anyone. That's not just because he didn't yell when we, the grandkids, were around either. He lived with all of us at some point. We were always there. He didn't yell. He was the strongest, yet the most gentle man I've ever known. Now, I'm not saying he never got mad. I'm just saying that I personally have never heard him raise his voice in anger, and I think that's pretty incredible.

He taught me so many things, and many of them without even using words. He taught me with his actions, his attitude, and his heart. He taught me to be strong and to never give up. He taught me that you can do anything if you try hard enough... anything. He taught me the importance of an education. He taught me to be gentle, to be cautious with my words, and to be slow to anger. Sound familiar? James 1:19: "Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters. Let every person be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger." Papaw lived it, unlike anyone I've ever known before.

He taught me a lot about hope and perseverance. Because of him, I will never give up on my patients. I'll fight for them and give them hope. You never know what people are capable of. You never know what God's plan is. I'll carry his memory in my heart, and because of him, I'll be a better person and a better doctor. I hope that one day my grandchildren see those same things in me.

Don't you think he's amazing? I'm so grateful that I had my Papaw for 24 years. I'm so glad that I'm old enough to see his character and understand fully what an amazing man he was. I miss him, and I always will, but I know in my heart that the next time that I see him, for the first time ever, I'll have to reach up to hug him, and that makes me smile.

"For anybody who has ever lost a loved one, and you feel like you had to let go too soon,

I know it hurts to say goodbye, but don't you know it's just a matter of time

till the tears are gonna end, you'll see them once again, and in that moment...

Every knee shall bow, every tongue confess that God is love, and love has come for us all.

Every heart set free, everyone will see that God is love, and love has come for us all.

Oh, and on that day, we will stand amazed at our Savior, God, and King."

For the first time in 42 and a half years, Papaw is walking. Isn't that beautiful? I bet he hasn't sat down yet. I imagine that when he got to those pearly gates, Jesus said something like this to him:

‎"I am the Word that leads all to freedom

I am the peace the world cannot give
I will call your name, embracing all your pain

Stand up, now, walk, and live."

blueberry crunch, hold the blueberries

2010-06-27T22:12:00.000-05:00

I'm working on my domesticity. I hate cleaning. I like to cook, but for the last couple of years, I've been too tired to do it. There are a lot of nights that I just eat random crap until I'm not hungry anymore. One day last week I ate some grapes, 3 tomatoes, and cereal straight out of the box. Another night, I boiled some broccoli and made some toast. For the most part, if it can't be made within 10 minutes, I'm over it. I realize this is pitiful. This cannot continue throughout my adult life. So I'm working on it. My family put together this amazing cookbook last year:

I've been cooking things out of it lately. It's helping me with my domestic issue. I used to attempt to make things like my Mamaw (on the other side of my family). However, I cannot make things based on directions like "a little of this, a smidge of that, just enough to make it look good." Make it look good? Who cares what it looks like? I need it to not taste like rubber. My life revolves around science. I need an exact measurement. What the crap is a "smidge"? Please. I guess Mamaw is going to have to keep making things herself until I develop some kind of 6th culinary sense. Anyway, so this book is all of my dad's family's personal recipes. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to make my great-grandmother's pineapple upside down cake from scratch... I do not make things from scratch. It turned out amazing, and I was quite proud of myself. We called my great-grandmother "Ma," and she lived to be 102 years old. Just FYI.

Ok, so I had these intentions of making Aunt Ruby's mandarin orange cake, which sounded awesome. Still does. Maybe I'll make that once I learn to read the directions. Maybe I'll rename my blog "Stupid crap I do." I feel like half my blog is just that... stupid crap I do. So this recipe isn't exactly from scratch. It involves cake mix. The key, though, is to substitute the mandarin oranges and juice for the water while making the cake batter. I read that. Then I got all my crap out. Then I forgot about the "don't put water in there" part. So I mixed the cake batter all up, con agua, re-read the directions, and realized that I wasn't going to be making mandarin orange cake today.

Fail.

So. I thought to myself... I have no icing, so I can't just make a regular cake. So I flipped through the Arnold family cookbook to find something that involved regularly-prepared cake mix and other ingredients that I happened to have. No dice. So I decided to make blueberry crunch without the blueberries. I guess I could just call it pineapple crunch, and it wouldn't sound stupid, but anyway...

Re-do:

If you've never had blueberry crunch, you're missing out. It also involves pineapples (I didn't just make that part up. I try not to be inventive when it comes to cooking. It usually doesn't turn out like I think it's going to.) You basically pour some crushed pineapples (and blueberries) in the bottom of a pan, add some sugar and butter, pour the cake batter on top, pour some more butter on top (this is really healthy) and top it with pecans. And bake. Voila! I like to add "refrigerate for a while" at the end of the directions. I'm not down with hot fruit. No cobblers for me. I like my fruit cold. It tastes much better after it's been refrigerated overnight.

So about those pecans. My dad's pal has a bunch of pecan trees. So every year, he goes and picks a million pecans and shells them and ziplocs them for me. God forbid we go to the grocery store and buy pecans like normal people. So I have 10 bags of pecans in my freezer. I mean, I'm not complaining. Pecans are expensive. Relatively. So are walnuts. It's a nut, not an imported delicacy. Geez. Why do you have to charge me $7 for a bag of nuts? That seems a little ridiculous to me. So I'll take my ziplocked pecans with a smile. Thanks, papa.

Along with the pecans, my kitchen has just been re-stocked from The Garden. If you missed my post about my family's aversion to store-bought produce, here's the explanation for the pictures below. We are fully stocked with creamed corn, corn on the cob, pecans, green beans, squash....

...peppers, plums, tomatoes, cucumbers....

...homemade pickles, salsa, corn relish, plum jelly, pickled squash....

Seriously.

I told you that The Garden was serious business. So anyway, back to my blueberry crunch without the blueberries. It turned out fabulous.

Be back soon with mandarin orange cake--sin agua.

"I only felt like an idiot once today!"

2010-06-22T21:37:00.001-05:00

This is going to be a long post. Just warning you. Apparently my blog is in high demand, and I don't want to let people down by leaving out any important play-by-plays in my spectacularly exciting and dramatic life. (Hey, Mom and Beth Ellen.)

First of all, it's freaking hot outside. I mean, just in case you didn't notice. Is it always this hot this early? I swear it's not. That hike to the parking lot in pants, closed-toe shoes, and a jacket is less than awesome in the afternoons. (I know what you're thinking: "take off the jacket, stupid." Well, then I lose things out of my pockets, and then I'm searching my car and retracing my steps in 110 degrees for my reference notebooks and penlights and I'm sweating and... it's just not worth it.) I think I'm going to get one of those tacky windshield reflector things so my car isn't so hot after baking in the stadium lot for 9 hours. Sorry if I've offended any proud windshield-reflector owners, but let's be honest... those things are not cool. They're tacky. Don't kid yourself.

Anyway... we are finally out of that stupid classroom! We had a "Clinician Ceremony" before we started this year. They gave us new coats with our names embroidered on them to make us feel special for a second before we spend the rest of the year feeling like incompetent dumbasses. We all went to Julep afterwards, and, well, 8:00am orientation was pretty miserable the next day. Here's part of the photo shoot.

SO. Finally! I spend time with people and not textbooks as of a couple of weeks ago. I am starting out on Pediatrics, and I love it! Pediatricians are nice people. They don't yell at you. Thank God. Feeling stupid is bad enough; getting yelled at out loud for being stupid is ten times worse. I'll take passive aggressive over borderline verbal abuse any day. Our team sees general peds patients and a couple of specialties, including pediatric neurology! IMAGINE my nerdy excitement. It's been awesome, but we were pretty clueless for a while. Ok... who am I kidding... we're still clueless, but it's getting better. The first day of our rotation, we were on call. The first freakin day! I didn't even know where to find the charts, let alone what to write in them. I remember getting on the elevator, looking at Morgan, and saying, "That was like the 6th dumb thing I've done today." We laughed at ourselves. Yesterday, I said, "I only felt like an idiot once today!" I dare say that's improvement.

When I started this blog, I said it wasn't going to be a "med school blog." Well, it has occurred to me that med school pretty much IS my life. It's really all I have to talk about, much to the dismay of Matt Newman. I think his stomach is getting a little stronger these days, though. He doesn't cringe quite as much when I casually mention graphically detailed, interesting-only-to-me pathologies that I've discovered. Lately, he even lets me tell him about things at the dinner table, which was "against the rules" for the last couple of years. "Laura... for the love of God, let me eat first." Haha.. poor guy. He's getting more into it. It takes us 2 hours to watch "House" because he asks 200 questions, which results in way too much use of the pause button. Thank God for DVR, right?

Fortunately, my stories are getting a bit more exciting. Usually the best ones are about the crazy things people say and do, not the medicine part of it. For example... A couple of days ago, a well-meaning lady comes up to me and says "Let me ask you a question. Mamaw always told me that insurance pays for the pillows in here. Is that still true? Or do y'all re-use 'em nowadays? Mamaw always said if you go to the hospital, you get to take them pillows because you paid for 'em anyway. So I was just wonderin'. The reason I'm askin' is 'cause I been needin' some new pillows. But I didn't wanna walk outta here with all them pillows and y'all thinkin I'm a-crazy." Too late, lady. Good grief.

Some of our stories are a little too R rated for this blog. (Ob/Gyn at a University hospital gets pretty exciting, apparently.) John got attacked by a psych patient. I would've given anything to have seen that one go down. One of the peds floors had Morgan's pager number down as "housekeeping." Housekeeping gets paged at all hours of the night, apparently. There's been crying and fainting and near-vomiting. Batson, the pediatric hospital, is under construction, so our "student lounge" is currently a cleaned-out former housekeeping closet, complete with washer and dryer hook-ups. About 3 people can fit comfortably in that room. There are 17 of us.

So anyway, it's pretty great, excluding the 5:00am alarm clock. Someone remind me why I didn't want to live in Belhaven...? Oscar Bob hates me every morning for waking him up before the sun. Speaking of which, I think it's bedtime. Have a happy Wednesday!

Step 1 is over... Hallelujah!!

2010-06-02T00:13:00.002-05:00

Have you ever taken a test for 8 freaking hours? It truly is awful. I mean really, really, really awful. I've never been so glad to have something over with in my life. The funny thing is, I took an 8 hour exam, and I can only remember 2 of the questions. That is some serious subconscious mental blocking, my friends.

I studied for 12 hours a day (or more) for almost a month, and last Monday I took Step 1. I stayed with my Mama in Hattiesburg for the month... best decision EVER. I have the best Mama. She not only cooked me dinner every night (and none of it involved the microwave), but she also did my laundry, changed my sheets, set me up a "study space," gave me some good pep talks, and she even drove me to Mobile to take my test. We drove down on Sunday night, went to dinner, and watched the show on TLC about the guy with half a body. It was nice to just relax a little bit the night before the test (between waves of impending doom and nausea). After my test on Monday, Mama picked me up, gave me a big hug, and drove me back to Hattiesburg for some Mexican food. Thank you, Mama... I couldn't have done it without you. Someone told her the other day that it was time to cut the apron strings. This made me panicky. I said, "Please, Mama! Don't ever cut the apron strings!" Haha... I have no doubts that she won't.

This is where I spent every waking moment of May 2010.

Chelsea was pretty bored with my studies.

Now I get 2 whole weeks (that are halfway over) to enjoy the sunshine before I officially begin the life of days filled only with fluorescent lighting. I'll never have a tan again.

Ah.. now that I have some time, there's lots to catch up on. Right before our finals and boards back in April, three other girls and I threw a baby shower for our friends, Matt and Laura Miller. (Not to be confused with this Matt and Laura, whose names do not belong in the same sentence as the word "baby.") Matt is in my class, and his wife Laura has gotten to be a good friend of mine as well. They are expecting their baby boy next month!! I absolutely can't wait. She's so funny... She is having the baby at Women's Hospital and not at UMC. When asked about it, she said that there's no way she's letting a bunch of short-coats near her newborn baby! Thanks for the confidence, Laura. Just kidding. I wouldn't want my husband's friends in my L&D room either. Here are a few pictures from the shower:

Cutest cake EVER.

Rowdy bunch, we are.

Macey, Hayes, Me, and Morgan, and Matt & Laura.

Another exciting thing has happened during all this study-torture. For Mother's Day, Mama, my sister, and I went to my Mamaw and Pap's house. It was the best day of this past month. On the drive home, I realized that I hadn't thought about school or studying or the Step one single time all day. I enjoyed my family and ate Mamaw's cooking. While we were there, she told me that she was going to give me one of her sets of china. I was so excited! It's so beautiful, and more importantly, it's hers. I'm very sentimental about it. I can't wait to use it! (And yes, I plan on actually using my fine china. Life's too short to keep your china in a cabinet.) Here's what it looks like:

Isn't it pretty? My pictures just don't do it justice. I love the light blue and silver. My great-grandmother actually had a set of china identical to this one, which I think is pretty cool.

Here are a few of my favorite Mother's Day pictures. For some reason, every single time there is a holiday or some other gathering at my grandparents' house, there is a mandatory photo-shoot in the front yard, whether only a few of us are there, or if all 50 of us are there (I have quite a large family). This is usually orchestrated by my mother. At least when we're all old, there won't be any shortage of pictures from the good ol' days.

Mothers and daughters.

This is my Pap. And let me tell you one thing about this man: he can fix a mean ponytail.

Somebody give this woman an award...

Two of my absolute favorite people in the whole world...

Anyway, I guess that's about it. I am an M3!! I'm so excited to be out of a classroom and into the hospital! I start out on June 8 on Pediatrics. Cheers to the first, last, and only 2 weeks of summer--

Well, that was stupid...

2010-05-20T11:38:00.000-05:00

4 days to go. Ok, let's not talk about that. As most of you know, I'm in Hattiesburg at my mom's house studying. I've been here for 3 weeks now, and I'll be here until a couple of days after I take my test. Matt, Oscar, and Katie were way too much distraction for me in Jackson. At mama's, it's just me and Chelsea and silence all.....day.....long. (Chelsea is our 14 year old dog, and she is pretty much comatose for most of the day, so it works for me.)

So I thought I'd take a break from misery and tell you this hilarious (in restrospect) and slightly embarrassing story.

Anyway, so last night I had some troubles. Preface: I had braces from 6th grade to the beginning of 9th grade. I got my braces off when I was 14. I am 24 years old. My braces have been off for 10 years. Ten years. And I wore my retainer faithfully for a couple years after that. I never wear it anymore, but for some reason, I carry it with me everywhere. I pack it with my toothbrush as if it is absolutely necessary. I have no idea why I do this. I didn't even really think about it until last night. It was just sort of automatic--jeans, contacts, toothpaste, retainer... I mean I don't know. So last night, for whatever reason (probably delirium from studying 12 hours a day for 3 straight weeks), I decide that I am going to sleep in my retainer. Well, surprise surprise, it doesn't fit. This disturbs me. It should fit, right? Are my teeth getting crooked? Oh no. So I continue to try to wedge this bottom retainer into my mouth. Finally, it pops in, and I almost hit the floor in pain. WHAT was I thinking? So I try to take it out. No dice. MY BOTTOM RETAINER WAS STUCK IN MY MOUTH. I kind of panicked. I tried for at least 10 minutes to get it out. I finally got my fingernail underneath part of the wire, and as it came out of my mouth, I simultaneously ripped my fingernail back, punched myself in the face, and my retainer flew across the room. I just kind of sat there for a second, thinking about what a dumb thing to do that was. My finger hurt. My jaw hurt. My teeth hurt. Then I went to bed, even more demoralized and defeated than I was 30 minutes before.

I woke up this morning and the top of my fingernail is painful and purple. Awesome.

Needless to say, I still would appreciate your prayers. My test is Monday from 9 to 5. Not a typo. 9:00AM to 5:00PM... Prayer. Thanks.

my adolescent dream has come true!

2010-04-12T23:08:00.000-05:00

Ok, well, so much for my blogging hiatus. I couldn't resist posting about my night. You see, I've had a terrible couple of weeks. I've been so overwhelmed and stressed (refer to previous post), plus I've just had a lot of lemons thrown my way lately (insert funny Ron White reference here... I'm too tired to think of one myself right now). So today, Matt asked me if he can have 2 hours of my night for "a date." I mean is he kidding? It's TEST WEEK! I have 3 weeks of tests on my plate, and you want a freaking date night? He said he promised it would make my week better. So I said "sure." Test week schmest week, right? He would only tell me that he would pick me up at 6:00 and to have my camera charged. He wouldn't tell me anything else. I asked 40 questions at least, but he refused to answer them. He just told me that it would definitely cheer me up. I had no clue what this boy was up to. I told him that this better be good. Giving up half my night (I did not buy this "only 2 hours" thing) during test week was not the kind of life choice that I usually make.

So all day long I studied hard so that I wouldn't feel so guilty and panicky about just taking the night off... during test week. My Matthew showed up at my casa with a surprise behind his back. He pulls out a Mississippi Braves tshirt (a very cool, vintage-ish looking one, I might add) and an 8x10 photo of Javy Lopez. He says to me, "We're going to get Javy's autograph!"

oh. my. gah.

For those of you who did not grow up watching Braves games, Javy Lopez was the catcher for the greater part of my childhood. He was my favorite player. My dad used to take us to Braves games in the summer, and Katie and I were absolutely those kids holding their gloves through the fences begging for autographs. My old little-league softball glove is signed by many old players, but I was never lucky enough to see Javy up close and personal. I might add that he is beautiful. I always thought that it was pretty unfortunate that he was the catcher. Couldn't see his face enough. Dang mask.

ANYWAY... (I mean it's 10:45, and it's still test week, and I'm writing on my blog)... The M Braves is our minor league baseball team in Jackson, and they feed into the Atlanta Braves. So Javy came to promote, throw the first pitch, sign autographs for children (and grown women that loved him as adolescents). So Matt found out about it and got tickets for us to go. Definitely worth not getting an A on that ICM test tomorrow! Javy Lopez in the flesh >>> ICM test. So he signed my huge portrait of him, a baseball card for Katie (bc I'm an awesome sibling), AND I took a picture with him. I can die now. Just kidding. Really though, so exciting! He's a really nice guy, too. He took his time, talked to people, let everyone take pictures, whatever you wanted. I like that about him. I can't imagine how disappointed I would've been if he'd been an arrogant jerk about it. He wasn't though... super nice. Here are the pictures:

Me: "Can you try to have a real smile? You have the worst fake smile."

Matt: "What? No I don't. What do you want me to do?"

Me: "I don't know. Think of something funny."

Matt: "Here... Like this?"

[Picture taken.]

Me: "You look ridiculous."

Matt: "Eh.."

[This picture supports Katie's idea that Matt resembles Jon Gosselin.]

First sighting. First pitch.

Signing my picture. It's legit.

Ahhh!!!

I am such a lucky girl. Not just because I got to meet my favorite baseball player of all time, but because I have such a wonderful boyfriend that loves me, knows me, listens to me, and goes to great lengths to make me happy. Who could ask for more?

the beginning of the end

2010-04-09T14:46:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was our LAST DAY OF CLASS!! Now, people in normal settings would view this as cause for celebration. For me, however, it just caused anxiety. We have an exam everyday next week. The week after that, we have 2 board exams. The week after that, we have 2 more board exams. Then I have 26 days to study for Step 1... Oh dear. See what I mean? We're not exactly going out for margaritas tonight.

For those of you who may not know what the Step is (in case someone other than my mom actually reads this blog), it's the first of three parts of the United States Medical Licensure Exam. If you pass it, you can't take it again. So if you get a crappy score, you're SOL. (If you don't pass it, you get another shot, but that's even worse than a crappy score.) This is the test that residencies will look at when considering applicants for acceptance. If this test were a person, it would have many leather-bound books, and it's apartment would smell of rich mahogany. I guess it's kind of a big deal.

I'm going to need some prayers...
1. To do well on these tests so that I can prescribe amoxicillin for all of your children one day.
2. That my determination and motivation don't collapse under such demoralizing conditions.
3. That I do not develop a stomach ulcer in the next 7 weeks.
4. For my SANITY.

Seriously though, I ask for your prayers. Come June 7, I'll be an M3! My blog will probably get much more exciting. I'll be on a blogging hiatus until after May 24. I know this is devastating for you.

Happy Friday!! Back to thyroid pharmacology. (I hope your Friday is much more exciting.)

Best. Birthday. Ever.

2010-04-02T17:18:00.000-05:00

Wednesday was my birthday. It was PERFECT. Tuesday night at approximately 11:04pm, Matt called me and said "It's 56 minutes until your birthday!" He told me he was coming over, and I thought he was kidding. He wasn't. So this boy that loves me drove 35 minutes to be there EXACTLY when it turned March 31. And to give me a present. He arrived shortly before midnight (I mean, let's not pretend that I ever actually go to sleep before midnight, so it is perfectly acceptable to show up at my house even unannounced at midnight. Might as well be 7:30.) So Matt makes me wait something like 7 minutes (until it turned 12:00) to open my present. He counted down. It was cruel. So eventually it became March 31, and he let me open my "little present," as opposed to my "real present" which he withheld from me for another 18 hours or so. I've been complaining about my shower head for quite some time. Well, no more whinin' is coming out of my mouth. My "little present" was pretty much the rainforest inside my shower. He got me this amazing shower head that is A) HUGE, B) has multiple settings, and C) can be taken off and hand-held (ie, for bathing Oscar Bob. Let's be serious, here.) He always tells me he listens to me, even when he's pretending not to. I guess he really does :)

You know you're getting old when you get REALLY excited about a shower head for your birthday.

So I had to go to class Wednesday, March 31, my birthday. Beyond that, we had a VENIPUNCTURE LAB on my birthday. Allow me to explain what that means: we had to learn how to draw blood and access veins, so the way we do that is to PRACTICE ON EACH OTHER. How mortifying is that? I don't like my own veins being stuck by professionals, let alone my classmates who have never touched a vacutainer before. Good grief. I pulled the birthday card. It did not fly. So thank the Lawd, my awesome friend Meagan has done this before and volunteered to be my partner. She was AMAZING. I barely felt it, and her start-to-stop time must have been 4 seconds, I swear. Unfortunately for her, I am not so much a phlebotomy prodigy. It went a little something like this:

I attempt to stick her TINY, barely visible veins. I thought maybe I had it. I was wrong. I turned my head to get the vacutainer, she says "ummm.... Laura...." I turn my head back to see blood gushing from her inner elbow. FAIL. So Meagan FORCES ME against my will to try her other arm. On her LESS visible, SMALLER veins. No dice, but I swear to the moon that needle was in her vein, and I had a bad vacutainer. [Vacutainers are the little tubes they pop on the needle to pull your blood out... They're a vacuum, so if they've been popped before, they won't pull blood out bc there's no pressure gradient.] So at this point, I am traumatized, really disappointed that I sucked so bad at this, and feel guilty making Meg a pin cushion. My friend Sam, God bless him, forces me to stick his huge-already-popping-out-without-a-tourniquet vein. He would NOT let me leave without getting it right. Sam's the best. So I stick him. Vacutainer. BLOOD. Woo hoo!!! I'm not a failure! I blame Meagan's veins. But don't I have wonderful friends?

Today, Meagan looks like a domestic violence case. Or a first-time heroin user. She's such a good sport. She insists that it's going to make a funny story one day, and that's enough to make it worth it. LOVE HER. She even bought me coffee after I butchered her arms. What a friend, huh?

So then I go home and get ready for dinner with my Matthew. He took me to Ruth's Chris, which was amazing! I'd never been before. I had wine, steak, mashed potatoes, chocolate cake (understatement of the year), and berries and cream.

After dinner, he wanted to go to Mint (a really nice restaurant/bar next to Ruth's Chris) and "have a couple of drinks." I was exhausted from being at school all day, and I was soo miserably full. I whined about wanting to go snuggle on the couch and have another glass of wine there. He pretty much ignored me and started to walk into Mint. I was so mad! As I walked in the door, I was saying "You know, it's MY birthday. Shouldn't my opinion matter a little more tonight?" I pouted. Then Matt waved to someone. There was Sam. I waved, thinking "Oh, hey, Sam's here." I barely finished this thought as I realized that ALL of my friends were there. They all waved and yelled "happy birthday" to me. I almost cried. I was so excited to see them! School is horrendous right now, everyone is so stressed, and it meant so much to me that everyone took the night off to come hang out for my birthday. I mean we have 5 final exams and 4 board exams in the next 3 weeks. It meant A LOT that they were there. Matt and Meagan (my pin cushion) had planned it all.

I am SO LUCKY to have such AMAZING friends! I couldn't ask for more.

A few of the girls that were still there by the time I realized I had my camera.

My sister got me this apron from Anthropologie... SO CUTE. Leave it to Katie to get the most random, yet amazing presents ever. Very 50s-housewife. (Although if you've known me for more than 5 minutes, you know I was destined to be anything but a housewife... haha.) But I DO love to cook, and I plan on wearing it all the time!

Thanks, everyone, for making my birthday special. Even those of you who called me. It made my day.

Birthday Boy!

2010-03-28T14:39:00.000-05:00

Oscar Bob turned 1 today!

This is when I first got him. He was about 6 weeks and barely weighed 2 pounds!

Now he's all grown up... a whopping 7 pounder. Already learning how to drive.

Happy Birthday, Oscar Bob!!

Snow Day!!

2010-02-12T15:37:00.000-06:00

I really think this is the first "snow day" I've ever had. It snowed when I was in 8th grade, but it was during the Christmas holiday, so we didn't get days off of school. Well, the day has come. So on this lovely Friday, I put the books away, put on a scarf (how many times do you really NEED a scarf living in Jackson, MS?), made some tortilla soup, and played with Oscar Bob in the snow. I really think that he must have been a reindeer or a Siberian husky in a previous life. He loves the snow. I had to coax him back inside with treats. He was shaking and soaked with snow, but he was so dang happy about it. He's also really hydrated today because he's eaten about 20 snowballs. He's good at catching them in his mouth... then eating them. So here are a few of my favorite pictures.

Reindeer.

FIVE INCHES!!!!

Ok, listen, I really hate to be that girl that puts her poor dog in a sweater. So, in my defense, it actually used to be Polo's sweater, and he was SO cold!! I had to do it. Don't judge me.

It took Polo a little while to "get it," but he's down with the snow now.

Our snowman had a mild case of scoliosis. Apparently his mouth fell off before this picture, and truth be told, one of Grayce's turds ended up embedded in the back of him (awesome).. BUT I'm pretty dang proud of his size.

My sweet little pal! I feel like he's a little too... exposed... in this picture, but I thought it was too precious not to share.

Happy snow day! Back to watching *Bewitched!

The best thing about this year so far...

2010-01-14T00:39:00.000-06:00

Is not the weather. It...is...freezing. Literally. Where am I?? The freakin arctic?? Since last Thursday, I have woken up to single-digit temperatures. Today, nearly a week later, the temperature got above freezing for the first time. The roads are icy, water mains are bursting, and there are far too many people in this town that can't shower. My body was not made for this. It is frigid. The kind of cold that makes your face numb and your bones hurt. I hate winter anyway, but this is ridiculous. I love how the news talks about the "Arctic Blast" every single day. Ha. Where is the Mississippi version of "winter" that involves 50 degree weather? Anyway, enough of that. (Don't worry... I have water, and I have showered [almost] everyday.)

So I was putting my pictures into albums on my computer, and I decided that the best night of this year so far was our outing to the YAZOO COUNTY FAIR. I didn't have a blog at the time, or I surely would've blogged about it. I think it more than deserves an entry. Folks, if you haven't been to a small-town fair in Mississippi and risked your life on rides put together inside of 2 hours by, well, you know who puts them together, you just haven't lived. See, my dear friend Morgan is from the metropolis of Yazoo City. Don't let the word "city" fool you. Her wonderful parents cooked a huge meal for a bunch of us poor, pitiful med students who live off of anything microwavable. Salad, chicken spaghetti, garlic bread, red velvet cake, and sweet tea. YUM. Then we were off.

Now, I've been to some fairs (most notably the Washington County Fair) that have been held in locations such as mall parking lots. Not in Yazoo. I don't know where we were, but it was around October, and it had been raining for days. It was in a field. A very muddy field. I came prepared in my Wallabees.

Meagan did not.

Check out this mud:

First up: the super shot.

Meagan and Matt: "Thanks, but I'm not into vomiting tonight. Go ahead."

I like this motion shot of the boys. Tilt-A-Whirl. CLASSIC.

I know these pictures aren't the best, but can you see the look of TERROR on my face? John Roberts peer pressured me into getting on this ride. It creaked a little too much for my comfort. It's not the going upside down. I love rides. I love the spinning, upside down, loopy, put-your-heart-in-your-throat kinda rides. However, let's be honest. The rides at the Yazoo County Fair were put together by 2 guys with some wrenches and screwdrivers within about 45 minutes. And this one CREAKED. Loudly. THAT is scary, my friends.

There we go... Too bad there's no audio. At this point, I am screaming, "I hate you, John Roberts!" Luckily, I survived. So did our friendship.

Then the best part of the night: Matt decides he's going to win me a fish. (And they say chivalry is dead...) So to assure that his beloved (me) goes home with a fish, he paid five whole dollars for unlimited attempts. He sucked. Eventually, several of us just start picking up the ping pong balls and throwing them. Surprisingly, the carny just let us do it. So I ended up winning myself a fish. Not only that, but I made the ball in the "impossible" center bowl, so I won myself THREE fish. I named one Ethel, Sam named one Biscuit, and John named one Langerhans. (islets of Langerhans are cells in the pancreas. Just wanted to make sure you could embrace the full funniness of the lame med school joke. We really should get out more.) Here we are, Matt, me, and our new pets:

Despite my best efforts, all three fish were dead within 9 days. RIP, Ethel, Biscuit, and Langerhans.

We rode the rides for hours until we all almost threw up. (Maybe you shouldn't eat 2 helpings of chicken spaghetti before going to the fair. Just a suggestion.) Another suggestion, I really recommend going to a county fair and acting like a 12 year old for a night. It was the best night EVER. Thanks for the memories, Yazoo City!

ROLL TIDE!!!

2010-01-09T01:25:00.000-06:00

Wow. WOW. NATIONAL CHAMPIONS!!! Woo hoo!!

So in a previous post, I smugly taunted "I'll let you know what the weather's like in Pasadena!" Well... I didn't make it to Cali. I didn't even make it to Tuscaloosa. I did make it over to my friend Patrick's house. Thanks to being poor (no Pasadena), icy roads, and mandatory class on Friday (no T-town), Matt and I had to settle for watching the game on a flat screen with Ole Miss fans. Don't get me wrong, we had a grand ol' time. Patrick grilled hamburgers and served us sausage-cheese-&-jalapenos on fancy toothpicks, Mo made cupcakes, and three of us came bearing Rotel dip in Crockpots (creative bunch, we are). It was so great to just hang out, drink some Crown and coke, and not worry about microbiology for five minutes. I love pretending I have a life. Really, it was so much fun! We all agreed that Jevan Snead just needs to give it up, Tebow is a "good guy" but he cries a little too much, and the Crimson Tide was going to win the game.

We were right! I proudly sang "Yea, Alabama" about 4 times in a row (by myself) while waving my shaker around like a maniac. After a few Rammer Jammers, I let it go. Thanks go out to my friend Meagan, a true maroon State fan, who jumped around in circles around me yelling, just so I wouldn't be the only one celebrating. (After a few good shouts, Matt preferred to stand behind me and laugh at me while texting everyone he has ever met in his life.) All of our dear Ole Miss fans were pulling for Bama, but they weren't exactly screaming at the top of their lungs upon the trophy presentation. It was pretty funny. I didn't take any pictures because I was busy living in the moment, but I won't need any pictures to remember it!

Matt and I watched ESPN until about 2:00am. I mean really, they showed the same 4 interviews and the same 5 clips over and over and over, but he couldn't get enough. Today, when I walked into school, an Ole Miss friend of mine said to me, "So what's it feel like to walk around knowing your team is the National Champion? Please tell me, because I will never know what that feels like." I thought it was pretty funny. There's hope for the Rebels, friends. But for now, BAMA is #1!!

ROLL TIDE!!!

I hope you had a Merry CHRISTmas!

2009-12-29T00:23:00.000-06:00

It's been a while since I've blogged. I've been too busy doing absolutely nothing. Since exams have been over, most days I've slept a minimum of 13 hours. To a med student, it really is the most wonderful time of the year! Anyway, I just thought I'd share some of my favorite pictures of Christmas. But before that, I just have one thing to say. Christmas is about JESUS. Not about being politically correct. It is NOT a secular holiday. If you don't believe in the birth of Christ, you have no reason to celebrate Christmas. So if you aren't interested in celebrating or seeking Christ during this time, mind your own business. And if I hear one more story about protesters trying to take nativity scenes or other religious elements out of Christmas, I am going to go postal on somebody. You don't like it, ignore it. It is not hurting you. I don't celebrate Buddhist holidays or Hindu, Muslim, or Jewish holidays, but I also don't go around trying to stop people from celebrating the true meaning of their holidays. Last time I checked, this was AMERICA. And last time I checked, that was the point of the founding of this country. Freedom of religion, speech, etc. etc. etc. Ok. You get it. Moving on.

We started off Christmas break with the Tacky Christmas party in Jackson. It's a fundraiser for the Magnolia Speech School. Please note that I'm wearing a moo moo... Love it.

See that picture of Katie and I in those white nightgowns? I don't think you can really see it here, but I think we look like vampires or dead children in a horror movie. We're really pale, our hair is messy, and we're not really smiling. I picked it out of the pile of pictures to put on display myself. I like the creepiness.

I love these things... I think they're hilarious.

Every year Katie and I each get a new ornament. This was my very first ornament.

And my most recent ornament. Roll Tide!

The stocking I've had since birth. My favorite part is my name: glued-and-glittered. My mom used to always forget to fill our stockings, so Christmas mornings she would stuff our smallest present down in it. I don't have a picture of the stocking that I have at my daddy's house, but he was very reliable in his stocking-stuffing. Candy candy candy. Always.

I like this picture because Oscar Bob snuck in at the last second with his hedgehog.

While you may think Occabob is posing for his Olan Mills portrait, he's really grunting at me so that I will throw his ball, which is laying at my feet. He's also a bit irritated that we tied Christmas present ribbons and ornaments around his neck. He's dang cute though, huh?

Christmas morning hot chocolate.

A few of my cousins on my mom's side of the family. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera during my dad's side of the family Christmas. I have about a million wonderful cousins on both sides. I'm very lucky to have such a [huge] great family.

I think this is my favorite picture ever of my sister. She is so happy about that dirty Santa gift!! I'm stealing it and wearing it to next year's Christmas party. Fo. Sho.

My cousin Ashley. I almost dropped my camera and this was the result. I thought it was a cool picture!

On my dad's side, we draw names. On my mom's side, we play dirty santa. This year, I won a little hand-held massager thing, which Matt termed "pocket spa." I think I had about 6 different things at some point or another. Everyone kept stealing from me! At the very end, I had these amazing, candy-cane colored, shea butter-infused SOCKS. It was my mamaw's backup gift (ie, someone forgot theirs), so there was also $5 in it. Mamaw has been sticking $5 bills in everything from letters she sent while we were at camp to dirty santa gifts. She always says it's "coke money." I just think that's funny. Anyway, my cousin Ryan, who is several years older than me, STOLE MY SOCKS because he wanted the $5! I pouted about it and tried to run away with my socks, but he got them. Later, he gave the socks to Matt and told him to give them to me later. I guess sometimes you just really need five bucks. Thanks Ryan :)

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas! Happy New Year!

My favorite holiday and....PASADENA?!

2009-12-07T21:22:00.001-06:00

IWell, first things first: ROLL TIDE!!! Being the lone Bama fan in a sea of Ole Miss grads has made for an interesting couple of football seasons. I have faithfully defended my team AND my quarterback every weekend. I must say, I love me some Greg McElroy. Ask Ben Mullins. I've been chanting McElroy's name since circa 2007 (I'm not so much a JP fan...). So Ole Miss got a little big for their britches at the beginning of the season (see previous post), but I've just been waiting...quietly. Well, we beat the Rebels. Then we beat everybody else. Still, everyone just knew Florida was going to kick our tails. Everyone said we couldn't do it. It'd be close, sure, but there's "no way y'all are beating Tebow." 32-13 says we did. So, I'll let you know what the weather's like in Pasadena. I smell roses!!

Now, a little back-track. In the midst of studying for finals (which I should be doing right now), I have not had a chance to write about my favorite time of the year! Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It's just about family and spending time together. You don't have to worry about giving presents, and it doesn't come with all the stress. I have a huge family, and I love hanging out with all of my cousins. There is nothing I look forward to more than my Mamaw's dressing and banana pudding without bananas (seriously). I slept straight through most of the parade, which I usually like to watch, but the sleep was much-needed. I somehow slept through the tv, the food processor, a small army of people talking in rather loud voices (y'all know my whole family is deaf). So I suppose I really needed the sleep. After I put myself on the brink of a food-induced coma at my Mamaw and Pap's house, I drove 45 minutes to see my dad's side of the family. The first thing my 5 year old cousin Drew said to me was "WHERE is your boyfriend? WHY isn't he HERE?" Good to see you, Drew. Somehow Matt has stolen the hearts of my cousins' children. He teaches them magic tricks and things like how to flip coins. It really is precious. After a few hours of visiting, stuffing more food into my body, and taking a cat nap on the loveseat in my Papaw's room, I headed back to Monticello, the land of one redlight, hometown of my mother, Mamaw and Pap's house. We always play games, usually skip-bo or some kind of card game. (I know what you're thinking.. how lame.. but it really is fun!) However, this Thanksgiving there was a new game on the table. It was homemade: hand-cut wood, painted, and it even had those little labels on it that you can make with a label-making kit. This wonderful game was called Fast Track. All I know is that it came from Arkansas (I don't know...), and Ryan and I won! (Ps, if you ever play a game with my grandmother, be warned that she is a VERY competitive woman.) We had a grand ol' time. My cousins keep me laughing. They are funny people. It was a much-needed, wonderful break from school. I have so much to be thankful for!

A few of my cousins, my sister (she says she's the pretty one), and my overly-competitive grandmother, Shirley. She's my favorite person ever.

Fast track!

Decorating the tree!

We put this angel on top of our tree. It's pretty ugly. I don't know what made my mother pick that out to put on top of the tree, but it's been around for at least as long as I've been alive. Now it's just funny, and I would never want to replace it. I also like to be the one to put it up there.

Much to Oscar Bob's delight, it was a smooth 70 degrees on Sunday after Thanksgiving. Gotta love Mississippi.

Don't get too big for your britches.

2009-12-03T20:36:00.002-06:00

I am going to post about my Thanksgiving as soon as I find my camera cord. For now, a funny little story about today....

So, I saw a patient by myself for the first time today. I felt very empowered. You walk in with a white coat on, and people just start telling you things. They assume you know everything. This, of course, is ridiculous, but I must admit that I may have felt a little too big for my britches for a minute. Then I got lost trying to get back to the medicine lounge, and I had to ask a janitor where it was. Don't worry, my britches fit again. Humility....a very good thing.

Welcome to the 21st century...

2009-11-17T23:51:00.001-06:00

When I was old enough to hold a dish without dropping it, my dad made me wash dishes. He does not believe in a dishwasher. In fact, I really don't think our dishwasher has been used in at least ten years. Seriously. I'm not kidding. After dinner, my sister, my dad, and I would clean up. Immediately. One of us would wash the dishes, one would dry, and the other would put up. I don't know where the obsessive-compulsiveness comes from, but I certainly didn't get the genes. I have absolutely no problem letting those dishes sit there for a couple of hours while I relax after a good meal. And when I do get ready to do the dishes, I certainly don't wash them by hand. I hate to sound like a brat, but HELLO, welcome to the 21st century. Use a freaking dishwasher. That's what they're there for.

Along with snubbing modern technology, my family members also turn their noses up at the produce aisle in the grocery store. You see, we have a garden. "The Garden." The Garden is more like a small farm. My whole family--my dad, my aunts and uncles, cousins--plants rows and rows and rows of every vegetable you can think of every year. Okra, corn, cucumbers, squash, every kind of peppers in existence, the list goes on. Here's the thing though: all of these fruits and vegetables are planted by hand, then picked by hand. It doesn't stop there, my friends. We make our own jellies, pickles, salsa, corn relish, and probably some other things that I can't think of at the moment. (When I say "we," I really mean "they." However, I do contribute to the picking and shelling/shucking processes. I learned how to shell peas before I could write my name.) I sometimes feel like this is how Laura Ingalls Wilder lived. I love Laura Ingalls Wilder. Or George Washington. I'm not complaining: my pantry is stocked with mason jars of various homemade concoctions, and my freezer is packed with fresh, frozen vegetables. I have a huge family, and there's enough to last everyone a whole year. This garden is serious business.

The dishwasher issue I despise, but the Garden is my favorite thing about my family. It's a tradition. It's funny. Who does that? Who plants and picks that many crops by hand in the year 2009? We do. Arnold family bonding is what we like to call it. The Garden is a family affair. We sit on the back porch of my aunt's house and wash, snap, shuck, shell, ziploc, and label. Usually there's beer and good story-telling, which is all the more reason to love the Garden.

So tonight, I pulled some potatoes out of a tattered wal-mart bag and scrubbed the dirt off of them. They were straight from the Garden. I sliced them up, poured Italian dressing over them, and powdered them with Tony's. Then I put them in the old corningware that my mom gave me. I was so excited that she gave me some of it. I never thought I'd cherish my mother's corningware. But I do. Not because of what it is or how it looks... Because it's my mom's. She's cooked in it since I was a child, and it just feels like home with it sitting on my stove. It's simple. Classic. It makes me happy. Thanks, Mom.

Astronaut pens

2009-11-12T18:05:00.000-06:00

I really believe that I was born in the wrong decade. I was made for simpler times. I hate technology. I hate that every time you figure something out, they have to go and "update" it. Why?? Why the constant updating? If it ain't broke, don't fix it. It was fine like it was, and I knew how to work it! Take iTunes for example. My friends make fun of me because my iTunes hasn't been updated in years. The last time I updated it, everything was changed around, and it took me an hour to figure out where everything went. And now every time I turn on my computer, the pop up "you have updates" messages flash angrily at me. As if they are cussing me and calling me stupid. Still, I refuse. No updates for me.

Needless to say, due to my computer illiteracy, my blog is very plain. I spent 2 hours last night trying to figure out how to put pictures on it (not post them--add them to the top of my page to decorate it). It ended with me cursing my computer, the internet, Al Gore, and Comcast. Although, for once in this lifetime, it really wasn't Comcast's fault. I just hate them and their monopoly on internet service and the fact that my internet doesn't work half the time. Feel free to inform me how to put pictures up.

I am starting this blog for a couple of reasons. First of all, all of my closest friends felt the need to move away. Boston, Montgomery, Birmingham, UTAH for pete's sake... Who lives in Utah that was born in the South? My bff Amanda. She's saving the world in Utah. So some of my friends have blogs, and I like to be updated on their lives. I also like that it's like a journal. When I started medical school, I had full intentions of writing a journal about it. That lasted about five minutes. Maybe during boring lectures I'll get some "journaling" done on here. I'd like to look back and remember some things about these remaining 2.5 years because I'm sure much of it will be blocked out.

Anyway, I didn't think this post would end up being a novel, but the one thing I wanted to write about is astronaut pens. Did I miss the memo somewhere? Does everyone know about astronaut pens? I had never heard of these incredible inventions. Apparently they are pens that you can write upside down with (the pen being upside down, not you). Matt told me last night that his Papaw only used astronaut pens so that he could lay in his bed and do cross word puzzles lying down (paper in the air). You know, you go to write something on the post-it paper thing on the refrigerator and your pen doesn't work because the pen is pointed up? Well... astronaut pens. Who knew?