Hey, check out Cal looking all quaint and olden-timey in that photo. Oh wait, that's not Cal, that's me as a baby. My mom unearthed this picture from some dusty old album at their house. (She's the lady with the Peter Pan hairdo, by the way. Quelle 70's.) I guess Cal and I really do look alike. Except for those ears, though--thank God he got Joe's ears. Look at those wings sprouting out of the sides of my head. You'd think I might have superhuman hearing abilities with those things, but sadly, those ears are less evolution and more useless freak mutation.
I will put this picture up to remind myself that, despite having two residents as parents (and this was in the pre-work-hour-regulation era) I somehow turned out OK, and so will Cal. Why, I only robbed three liquor stores this week.
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I was on call overnight on Thursday. Golden Weekend, baby! This almost nullifies the tears that will be shed next weekend, when I'm on 24 hour call Saturday. That's my Tin Weekend.
One of Joe's co-residents had a dinner party yesterday evening for all the folks in their second year class. This was possible because there are only four residents in their year--even with all the spouses and kids in attendance, there were only eleven people total, and not all of them ate. Cal is at a great age to take him to these dinner functions because he's not mobile yet, so we don't have to keep a constant vigil on him cruising the floors, stopping to chomp on particularly delicious-looking electrical outlets or glass shards. Also, he's not eating solid food--isn't even interested in solid food--so we can keep him on our laps while we eat and he looks on. It helps, of course, that he is officially a Very Good Baby, confirmed by a number of outside impartial sources. He just likes to sit and observe and flirt with people. Hate the game, not the playa.
The host of the party is what I would classify as a Real Grown-Up. He and Joe are the same year of training, but he had another career before switching track to do this whole ophtho thing, so he has some years on us. Also, owing to his former career, his wife's career, and the fact that he and his family do a lot of traveling, they are also what I would classify as Fancy People. Whereas we have a dog-chewed Ikea coffee table in our living room, they have an antique Viennese music stand. You know, that kind of thing. So of course, this dinner party, while casual, was also kind of Fancy, and I don't mean like the Fancy Ketchup they have at McDonald's. (I never understood that. Why is their ketchup "fancy"? Because it's in little packets? It's just ketchup. Not even catsup.) The food itself was pretty normal, but it was served in a very Euro way--antipasto to start, two pasta courses, followed by a meat course with a salad course at the end. Salad at the end = very Euro. No cheese platter, though. This is a good thing--I hate the cheese platter in lieu of dessert. In what universe does cheese substitute for a slice of chocolate cake? In a sick and wrong world, friends.
Currently eating: Leftover Halloween candy. Because we are Not Fancy.