We're at 20 weeks this week. Twenty down, twenty more to go! Well, hopefully, anyway.
As you can see, I've taken the sage advice of some of my genius readers and invested in a pair of Old Navy jeans two sizes up from my normal. Brilliant! Man, now I wish I had never bought those nasty stretch panel jeans in the first place. The regular jeans in a bigger size look much better, and there's still room to grow, as evidenced by my plumber's crack and the frequent need to keep hiking those babies up as they threaten to slide off the shelf of my butt. Maybe I should start wearing boxers and gold chains, and start rapping about how it's all about the Benjamins.
Thanks for all the advice regarding creating a harmony between Cooper and Cletus, by the way. I think the dog is going to be fine, she's just going to have to learn to deal with some changes is all. Anyway, she'll be three years old in September, which is the age that (we're told) most dogs start to mellow out, so that will make things easier too. We took her with us to Buy Buy Baby this weekend--not as some sort of a test drive of dog in baby world, more just because she needed to get out of the house--and she behaved reasonably well, garnering praise and admiration for her obedience and general cuteness, despite not being one of the multiple breeds of "purse dogs" favored by so many monied New York City dog owners. Of course, they didn't see the part where she tried to steal a teddy bear out of a furniture display and climb up onto one of the upholstered twill gliders so that she could gnaw her prey to pieces. But other than that, total obedience!
Onc call was a strange experience last night, because it was the first time I've ever taken call side-by-side with an attending. And I mean really side-by-side, because she was moonlighting, and therefore took the other half of the service, as well as the other half of the call room. It was like being at the strangest sleepover party ever. She graciously ceded the bottom bunk to me, but I have to say, it was strange hearing her get nursing calls at 2am, and then hearing her clank down the bunk to go examine a patient or go push morphine. An attending getting up in the middle of the night to push morphine? Worlds are colliding! It was disorienting, a total slap in the face to the traditional medical heirarchy--I almost felt like I should subjugate myself and just offer to do it for her, even though the role of the moonlighter is really to act as a second resident on the service, including all the unglamourous parts. (Read: all of it.) Still, she was getting paid $100 an hour to push that morphine, so I didn't feel too too bad.
Currently watching: "Garden State." Not bad. Reminded me of "The Graduate" in a lot of ways, including the part afterwards where I really wanted to buy the soundtrack.