the holdout




Here it is, the one soda machine in the hospital that still only (ha, "only") charges $1.50 for a 20 oz. bottle of soda. (All the other machines in the hospital charge $1.75.) I'm not sure why this one is the holdout, but I suspect that since this machine is located in an unlit closet somewhere deep in the Pediatrics call suite, the soda company has forgotten that it exists.

it should be noted that none of the polar bears were drinking coke







Joe's parents were meeting up with some friends for lunch today, so Joe and I took Cal to the zoo. Really, the die was cast after a series of tactical missteps yesterday.


Misstep #1:


(Everyone standing next to the elevator, en route to the Transit Museum)

JOE'S DAD
Cal, are you ready to go to the zoo?

CAL
Zoo! To see animals!

JOE(Whispering)
We're going to the Transit Museum.

JOE'S DAD
I mean trains! Not the zoo! We're going to see trains!

CAL
(Hopefully)
Go take the trains to see animals?


Misstep #2:


(Leaving the transit museum, walking through Brooklyn Heights searching for lunch)

JOE'S MOM
I'm starving. Where are we going to eat?

JOE
The restaurant's just a couple more blocks this way.

JOE'S MOM
I'm dying. We'd better get there soon. I could eat a cow.

CAL
(Panicking)
No cow! No eat a cow!

JOE'S MOM(Covering)
No honey, we're not going to eat a cow.

JOE
No, we're going to eat a couple of cute bunnies.

MICHELLE
And then if we're still hungry, maybe we'll eat Cooper.


I hate to see what's going to happen when he realizes that chicken nuggets are made of chicken.

pluggery




If you ever needed another excuse to go to Brooklyn Heights, here's one. The New York Transit Museum. Really fun, hands-on exhibits, some great old-timey pieces of history, and to top it all off, the whole museum was built into an old decommissioned subway station. So cool. (Full photo set here.)




May I suggest, though, that you skip the gift shop at the end if you have kids. TRUST ME. You may play the logic card, telling them that they have enough train crap at home without buying yet more, overpriced train crap--but they will not ever, ever believe you.

christmas part deux

So. Joe's parents are coming into town today to spend the tail end of the holidays with us, and provide us with some babysitting tomorrow night so that Joe and I can finally go out for dinner to celebrate our respective good news (the book deal for me, the fellowship for Joe). Plus, Cal gets the benefit of having two people around who have an insatiable hunger for ALL CAL ALL THE TIME, including endless iterations of the I-push-the-trains-this-way-you-push-the-trains-that-way game. Lovely.




Public service message! So long as your kid is old enough and does not have a burning urge to know what marbles taste like, a cheapy plastic marble run will keep them entertained for hours. HOURS. I mean, I suppose you could get the nice fancy wood one if you're all sophistimacated, but I assure you that gravity works the same and you will be much less distraught if your dog chew it into mulch. (For example.)

so this is how he has so much energy




MICHELLE
(Drinking coffee)

CAL
(Gesturing to cup)
Cal have some?

MICHELLE
No, honey.

CAL
Want to hold it and drink some.

MICHELLE
No honey, this is coffee, and coffee is for mommies and daddies, not for Cal.

CAL
Want some.

MICHELLE
You have your own drink.

CAL
(Looking intense)
Want some. NEED SOME.

MICHELLE
Woah.

maybe we'll put this picture on next year's holiday cards




The OR. Where we keep the Christmas tree up all year long.

(In the same spirit, it also should be noted that the leg holders for certain cases in the lithotomy position are called "candy canes.")

happy holidays





And a good time was had by all.

"could you describe the ruckus, sir?"

Wow, who knew people had such strong feelings about Magna Doodle?

Anyway, so yesterday was kind of a slow news day, which is what usually happens when I decide to just post a video clip from our extensive home movie files. Incidentally, I was deciding between the "Learning to Read" clip and this other clip I have of Cal opening an early Christmas present, which happened to be a big box of Dum Dum lollipops. But then I thought, that would be two candy-eating videos in a row, thus inviting excoriation from people kindly and pityingly informing us DON'T YOU KNOW CANDY IS BAD? So the reading clip it was. And now you know...the rest of the story. 

surely these skills will come in handy





I post this as sort of a motivational tool, because if Cal can learn to read, surely I can learn to drive.

feeders and growers




I find it very cute, not to mention fitting, that the theme for the Neonatal ICU at [Children's Hospital] is "The Very Hungry Caterpillar."

the hot zone

Man, that pig generated more comments than the preschool thing! To those made uncomfortable by our party foodstuffs, I offer two things. One, this cute bunny! (image credit)




Two, this piece of advice: do not go to Chinatown. Seriously. There are things that you will see in those restaurants and butcher windows that will make you unhappy. Delicious things.

But anyway, I guess in some sense I was lucky to be on call last night, because there was so much food left over from the party that I didn't even have to worry about dinner. The roast beast had long since been reduced to shreds, but there was still some chicken and tortilla chips and salsa, stuff like that. There were also two gigantic tubs of pasta salad sort of sitting there looking contemplative, but after some thought I steered clear, because I was a little suspicous of something with high mayonnaise content sitting out at room temperature for eight hours. Heaven forbid I get food poisoning and then have to deal with some emergency.

The thing that made it a little less than ideal to be on call yesterday was that Cal's been a little sick lately. Nothing major, just a lot of congestion and coughing. A text message exchange between me and Joe last night, while I was in the OR.


JOE
Cal has a fever, 99.1 axillary, and slapped cheeks. So, parvo it is.

MICHELLE
OK. How's he feeling?

JOE
Fine. Gave him some Tylenol mixed with juice.

MICHELLE
He's about 15 kilos, so...(tapping on calculator) let's say 7 ccs?*

JOE
I gave him 5 ccs.

MICHELLE
Lowballer.

JOE
He feels fine.

MICHELLE
Good. Oh, and stop slapping our son's cheeks.


This morning, I'm not completely convinced that Cal does indeed have parvo, since he has no rash on his body that I can see, but it hardly matters, since there's nothing different that I'm going to do about it anyway.

* No matter how many years may have passed since my days as a Pediatric resident, I cannot stop reflexively calculating oral Tylenol and Motrin dosages. It's like a tic.

roast beast

I have been to a lot of work midday holiday parties in my time, most of the cookies-and-punch variety.





However, seeing a suckling pig in the Anesthesia lounge was a first.

inflation




Hey, we just found out yesterday that Cal got in off the waitlist for one of the pre-preschool classes, so now he can attend twice a week instead of just once. Huzzah! Never have I experienced such a sense of accomplishment for something that required absolutely no merit or effort on my part, or on the part of my child. So starting in January, Cal will be starting preschool prep. Perhaps I will get him a little blazer with a crest, à la "School Ties." And then he will stand outside his dorm, under the weight of the pelting rain and his classmate's bigotry, and shout, "COWARDS!" (No, I never actually watched that movie, but I saw the commercial, which told me more than enough.)

See, I think the thing with the Manhattan preschool thing is like what happens at Mardi Gras with the beads. (Backstory: I went to Mardi Gras in New Orleans my senior year of college with some friends, because I figured that it was the last time I would have to do so before having to eschew such youthful debauchery for the stethescope and white coat set. And let me tell you, that was not a wholesome scene. I'm glad I went and was able to see it, especially before Katrina and all, but man, you do not want your kids running wild there at that time of year.) What I didn't really understand upon first arriving in New Orleans was the whole bead thing. You are aware, of course, that during these parades at Mardi Gras, people hurl strings of beads at the gathered throng, both as general spectacle, to attract a crowd, and occasionally as reward for showing your mammaries and nethers. What's the big deal? I asked myself. They're just these crappy plastic beads! Why is everyone killing each other and humiliating themselves for these stupid two-cent plastic beads?

I'm sure there's some sort of economic principle that illustrates this, or perhaps it's as simple as peer pressure in high school. But when everyone else wants something very badly, it insidiously elevates the value of that thing in your eyes too. Because by the end of our four days in New Orleans, I wanted the beads too. I did not go "Girls Gone Wild" for the beads, nor did I steal or cheat for the beads, but certainly, if someone was throwing beads, I wanted to catch them. They were pretty colors and shiny. Beads. It was like hypnotism.

There was a hierarchy of beads, of course. Lowest on the hierarchy were the little beads, mostly in strings of green or gold or purple, that probably came in gigantic bulk bags of five hundred. These were tossed about indiscriminately, and we soon tired of their ordinariness. Then there were the bigger beads, the different colored beads, the beads shaped like multifaceted disco balls. These were the superior beads, sought after. Finally were best beads, the coveted beads, the beads that required effort, that came with stories. These beads I got off a guy on Bourbon Street who was dressed like the Mayor of Munchkin City. These beads I got from that parade with all transvestites. These beads I got from some guy who was so drunk he stared intently at the front of my shirt, plaintively requesting that I "let those things breathe." The strange thing was that there were beads all over the streets and parade routes, literally scattered on the pavement and along the sidewalks, some even of the very nice variety, but no one seemed remotely interested in those. It's like they completely lost value once they hit the floor. The more difficult something is to get, the more people want it, and the opposite seemed to be true as well.

In a way, this is what happens in Manhattan with preschool. Those more rational among us rightfully point out that preschool is just basically a holding pen for two year olds to draw on their own faces with marker and exchange viral scourge, so why the big scene? Why the applications and the interviews and the first round admission letter brouhaha? Do we really think it means something, aside from being (in the case of the extremely elite preschools) an indicator of status? Do we really think it ensures the kids' future success? THEY WEAR DIAPERS AND EAT THEIR OWN SNOT. But the strange thing is when you're in the scene, and everyone around you is in the scene, even those who don't buy into the hype start insidiously to believe in it.

But now, despite all the essays and interviews and transparent efforts at parental one-upsmanship, we won't even be attending preschool in Manhattan at all. We're moving to Atlanta for the next two years, and by the time we get back, Cal will be ready to start kindergarten, which we can hopefully attend at one of any number of excellent public schools in the area. Though I don't know if we're just fleeing one scene and diving into another--for that week we're going to be in Georgia, we have had to line Cal up for five preschool interviews which, each institution insists are mandatory. Wow, flying into to town for a preschool interview, a new benchmark of ridiculousness has been set. As long as the other parents don't start talking loudly about how poor private jet service has gotten these days, and does anyone know how to get a red wine stain off from leather seating?--we'll just keep our heads down and try to somehow try get Cal near a microwave so he can read off the numbers.

i want candy





For the Cal fans among us. Caught on video at last, my scandalous parenting style! Watch as I feed my child copious amounts of chocolate, allow him to play with the microwave, keep him from head butting my pelvis with further chocolate bribery, and can't even elicit a "thank you" for my efforts. (Not pictured: the part where I give him a bath in the washing machine. Springtime fresh!)

the book of job

How does one apply for a job, anyway? I'm not talking about a residency or a fellowship--that application process follows a very specific structure, and I'm down with that. But I mean a real job. A job Out There in the Real World. In my elaborate fantasy life, it would be like the world's shortest one-act play.


MICHELLE
Hi. I am smart and a good work person. You give me job now, please.

EMPLOYER
Why?

MICHELLE
Because I need it.

EMPLOYER
Well...OK. Also, would you like some money?

MICHELLE
OK.

(FIN.)


However, I believe there is probably a little more to it than that.

After some amount of procrastination (I wanted to do these things, but somehow the very thought of it just made me so tired--anyway, I got out late from work many days this week) I did the following. The first thing was to pull my CV out of moth balls and give it a polish. I erased some old things (I figure no one needs to know my volunteer work in college anymore) and put in some new things, like, oh, MY TRAINING AS AN ANESTHESIOLOGIST. Secondly, I pulled up the Google Map of Atlanta, and wrote down all the little pink squares--I mean hospitals--in around and far from Academic Medical Center. Finally, I Googled the name of each hospital (seriously, what did we do before the Internet? Would I have had to go to the library and ask for a phonebook of Atlanta, Georgia? Probably yes.) and wrote down the addresses and phone numbers of the anesthesia groups staffing each hospital.

I lost my will to live before I could proceed any further, but the next step will be calling all these places and sending in my CV. And then telling them that I am smart and a good work person and that they should give me a job now, please. Everyone keeps telling me that the anesthesia job market in Georgia is good and that I'm a good resident coming out of a top residency program so I should just relax, to which I respond, "What makes you think I'm not relaxed? The face that I no longer have any fingernails with which to CLAW MY OWN FACE OFF? I'M RELAXED!"

(Can I have a job?)

prep school

So we recently enrolled Cal in this class at our local kid's playcenter. It is billed as a two year-old playgroup cum preschool preparation class, where kids go in, have circle time, story time, science time, crayon-eating time, what have you, and get used to being around other kids, listening to a teacher, the whole preschool environment. Emphasized is the "gradual separation" component to it (which is the main reason we signed Cal up--some kids jump into new situations with gusto, but he's more of the type that goes into his legwarmer impersonation and starts begging to leave), where week by week, the kids get used to being alone with a teacher and the other kids, away from the primary caregivers. What the hell, he's been taking music and art classes for more than a year now, this will be an extension of the same, and anyway, he needs to do something in the winter, since it's so cold outside.

It's a 90-minute class, and I tried to get him in for the twice-a-week program, but it seems like we were a little behind the curve in signing up, and I could only squeeze him in once a week, on Wednesday.


MICHELLE
Could I get on the waitlist for one of the other classes?
In case a spot opens up, so he could maybe go twice a week?

EMPLOYEE
Sure. We have additional two year-old classroom time on Tuesdays and Fridays.
Which class do you want to be on the waitlist for?

MICHELLE
Doesn't really matter. Can I put him on the waitlist for both?
We'll take either, if someone drops out.

EMPLOYEE
OK, I'll take care of that. (Typing noises) OK then, Cal's enrolled for Wednesdays,
and he's on the waitlist for both Tuesdays and Fridays.

MICHELLE
Great.


After I hung up, I realized: we have put our son on a waitlist for a preschool prep course. We are now officially ridiculous.

behold, the internet is useful!




Thank you all so much for you comments and e-mails (and Facebook messages!) regarding our impending move to Atlanta. You have no idea how much your insights help. Probably the only thing more difficult than planning a wedding from afar is trying to get Cal into a school, find a job, and figure out a place to live from afar. Maybe I could deploy some wireless robot to meet with realtors and interview with anesthesia groups and preschool teachers in my stead in Atlanta while I work the remote controls from up here. But with my luck, the robot would becomes sentient and turn evil, and then I'd really be starting things off on the wrong foot.

Anyway, I have to spend some time this weekend getting together a list of contacts and sending off my CV. Ideally, because of Joe's call situation (he will be holding the Oculoplastics call pager every day for two years straight--it is home call, and hopefully he won't get called in that often, but man, I've taken home call before, and that pager is like a noose around your neck) I will not be looking for a "partnership track" job. Doesn't really make much sense, given that we won't be there for the long-term anyway, and really what I would love, if I could find a position like this, is a "day player" anesthesia job. You know, more of a Monday through Friday, no call, no nights, no weekends or holidays kind of thing. Seems reasonable to expect there will be jobs like that out there, since a lot of anesthesiologists want to take call and do overtime because there are substantial financial incentives to working those extra hours. Anyway, we'll have to see what's out there. 

(*I think it may be prudent to add here that this is simply a reference to the Atlanta civil war scenes in "Gone With the Wind," not some preconceived notion on my part that the South is somehow backwater. And I'm sure if you bite on sticks for anesthesia, they're very nice sticks, made from the wood of peach trees, whittled and trimmed by beautiful maidens. OK then, as you were.)

hotlanta




There's no pulling one over on you guys, is there? I thought that the peach drawings were but a tantilizing clue, but as it turns out, the news was TOTALLY OBVIOUS. Well, as many have guessed, the big news is that Joe matched in an oculoplastics fellowship in Atlanta, and we will be moving there this July. To live. For two years. In Atlanta. Which is in this state called "Georgia." Which is far away. And not New York. At all.

I am feeling somewhat conflicted about all this.

On one hand, it is a good thing. Joe matching in a good program at a very big academic medical center is undeniably great news. He has been in the process of applying for plastics programs for about two years now, so to finally have some payoff on that is a relief. After he didn't match this past spring, we almost immediately started the process of applying for some other 2008 plastics positions outside of the spring match, in addition to starting the ordeal of getting our ducks in a row for the 2009 match proess. This is a not insubstantial amount of work, complicated by the sort of weary cynicism that accompanies any large burden of work for which you are not assured any results at all.

So while matching at this program in Atlanta is great news on one front, I have to be honest that for both of us, receiving this news yesterday that the deal was done evoked an emotion just short of happiness. On one hand--he landed this competitive fellowship! He will get excellent training! Great surgical cases! Good news for his career! Huzzah! But on the other hand, we are basically giving up absolutely everything else. I had a fellowship spot at [Univeristy Hospital] for next year, and I will be giving that up. My family lives in New York, and we will have to move away from them. We have housing, childcare, a network of people up here, and when we move, we will be saying goodbye to it all. From that point of view, the scales look a little...uneven. We always said that because Joe's fellowship was so difficult to get and such a great opportunity for him that wherever he ended up matching, we would just pick up and go, but...man. This had better be worth it.




I have to admit in moments of self-pity that I feel a certain 1970s Hillary Clinton-esque martyrdom. I mean, this fellowship that I signed up for would have been good for my career, for my professional development, and my department chairman had discussed with me the idea of staying on at [University Hospital] as faculty afterwards. So why would we automatically move to accomodate Joe's career? Was there a certain latent sexism on both our parts to presume that this should happen? Why move for him and give up everything else, as opposed to staying for me?

Well, it's not so simple, is all it comes down to. Obviously, landing an oculoplastics fellowship is really, impossibly tough, even for the most qualified candidates, so to turn down a good situation when it is offered to you is just short of huberis. And I could always come back and reapply for the Regional fellowship if I so wanted. I could always apply for a faculty position at [University Hospital] after Joe's fellowship is completed. These are reasonable options, and these are opportunities that would be available to me even after some time. But a good oculoplastics fellowship on the other hand is a rare bird indeed. You just don't turn a good position like that down. Another one may never come along.


In addition, in the big scheme of things, Atlanta is a pretty nice place to live. We applied to worse programs in way more far-flung places. I'd much rather live in Atlanta than a lot of those other "cities" (I use the term loosely), where the corn maze and the world's largest ball of twine are central attractions. My cousins lived in Atlanta (well, Alpharetta, which is one of the suburbs) for a good many years of my childhood. Atlanta is doable. I can handle Atlanta. Of course, you have to understand that I have lived in Manhattan for the past 29 years of my life, so this all will not come without some period of adjustment.

So, we have a lot to do before then. I have rescheduled some vacation time, and in February, we're all going to fly down to Atlanta for a week to try to get some shit done. We have already submitted applications and scheduled five preschool interviews for Cal, we are researching the real estate market, and I will have to start applying for a job. Lots to accomplish in one week. This is where the audience participation part of things play in. Some of you may know Atlanta. Some of you may actually even live there. Some basic questions:

• Where should we live? I know the traffic in Atlanta is completely unreasonable because everyone drives, because the mass transit system is just not as robust or reliable as the one that I am used to. We want to minimize our commute time, obviously, and we have applied mostly for preschools near where Joe will be working. (Should I say where it will be? Are people going to stalk him? I think it should be obvious to anyone who actually knows Atlanta--it is the big Academic Medical Center. Starts with a E. Yes? OK. Stalkers, ho!) We were thinking of Decatur. Is this a nice area for families? Is the rental market reasonable, or do we have to buy to get anything good?

• Any dirt on any of the local preschools? We are pretty familiar with the names of most of the ones in the area, but of course, we don't have the benefit of insider knowledge, so all we do is assess whether or not their website looks good before applying. It does not have to be super fancy, we just want a school with good teachers and nice families, and a facility with a minimum of tasty lead pain chips. More towards the preschool end of the spectrum and less towards the daycare end preferably, though I know sometimes those lines are blurry.
  

• This is something of a long shot for any of my colleagues down there, but--any good anesthesia practices in the area? I am obviously going to send my CV to the Academic Medical Center, and cold call some of the other places that might use private groups, but any extra info anyone can give me would be much appreciated. You can e-mail me, if you are with an actual group, I will even send you my CV and all that stuff. Finally, the world will know what I got on Step I of my Boards. I know you've been waiting.
  

• I'm going to have to drive, aren't I? (This was not a real question, more of a rhetorical "woe, woe" lament.)

• Recommendations on a good Pediatrics practice would be appreciated. We're going to have to set up some stuff for Cal, obviously. I would prefer if the practice was affiliated with the Academic Medical Center just for ease of access, but if you know someone who's really stellar and in a non-academic private practice, I will take that too. Ditto on a good OB/Gyn or vet for Cooper.

• What if we don't have any friends? What if no one likes me? (This, again, is not a real question. I also used to ask myself these things before going to summer camp.)

So anyway, obviously a lot of big changes going on around here, mostly good, some traumatic but still good in that growing-stronger-through-change kind of way. Clearly, you will hear way too much about the process of relocating from New York to Atlanta in the upcoming months. I know, it's everything you never wanted to know and wouldn't ever think to ask. You're welcome.




We're moving to Atlanta.

watch this space

More big news today. Very big news. No, still not pregnant, but the news is life-changing all the same. Sorry to be a tease again, but I literally cannot think of anything else to post for today, and yet there are certain people that we have to share this news with before posting it here. But believe me, I will tell you, and tell you soon. Because lord knows we're going to need some help with this one.




Get ready for a change.

this was ill-advised



I'm sure this fills some sort of need in the Oscar epic-laden December feature film field, but...have you heard the world clamoring for a Run DMC-themed computer animated remake of "Alvin and the Chipmunks"? I myself have not.

christmas came early this year




While Cal was napping yesterday, Joe built this little Lego railroad metropolis for him out of his old tracks and our sizeable Duplo stash.




Man, compared to this, the actual presents that we got him for Christmas look pretty lame. Alphabet workbook and new socks, anyone?

eye'll be home for christmas




A Christmas tree set up in the window of this LASIK factory in our neighborhood. We have long suspected that this is not quite the most professional bastion of medical practice we've ever seen (case in point: the procedure room is in front of a floor-to-ceiling window deliberately in full view of pedestrian street traffic, right next to the giant plasma screen TV and scrolling multicolor Times Square ticker advertising the good doctor's services), but in case these was any doubt, let's take a closer look at these ornaments.





I mean, I could see how that might be cute and all, under the right circumstances, but given the whole Vegas-style office picture, I think they may have chased away their two remaining possible patients.

the very hungry caterpillar




Ordered Cal the chicken teriyaki at this Japanese cafeteria place near Union Square today. Didn't expect it was going to be quite that big, obviously.

like a real doctor

Good day at work today. Well, good day for me, the resident, but not a good day for the patient. Strange how often that happens. Anyway, it was a day that I was scheduled for some relatively routine Gen Surg cases. Big cases, mind you, but nothing too crazy. The surgery was well underway when I hear the sound that will make any anesthesiologist look up and stand at attention--a prolonged slurping noise emanating from the field. I peeked over the drape, looked at the contents of the suction cannister, and motioned to the circulating nurse. "That blood in the fridge? Get it in here now." 

branded




I was wearing this sweatshirt over my scrubs this morning when one of the anesthesia techs stopped me.


TECH
Is that your husband's name?

MICHELLE
What? (Looking down) Oh "Spence"? No!
No no no! That's the name of the high school my sister went to.

TECH
Oh.

MICHELLE
What, you really think I would wear a sweatshirt with my husband's name
printed in giant letters across my chest? Please.

TECH
Well, you know, that's why I was like, damn.

trimmings




After last year's back and forth about fake tree versus real tree, settling on the real tree ended up being...not a success. What's the opposite of success? Oh, yes, failure. It was a failure. The tree held up well enough for the holiday season itself, but soon afterwards we kind of forgot to keep watering the thing, and it turned itself into a pile of pine-scented potpourri. Thinking that perhaps the cold would revive it somehow, we then put the tree outside on our balcony, where it continued the less-than-beautiful dying process and was finally tossed out at the end of the summer. So, this year, fake tree it is.

Cal was really excited about the idea of tree this year. They put up the Christmas tree in our lobby a few days ago, and he literally stopped in his tracks with wonder when he saw the thing, all lit up and shiny. The balls! The brightly colored balls! So for his sake, we made an effort not to wait until the last second to get our holiday decor set up this year.

He was indeed very interested in the tree and the ornaments, especially initially, but for the part of the evening that Joe and I really thought he would enjoy, you know, the actual decorating portion of our program, Cal was more interested in playing with the box that the tree came packaged in. He kept climbing into it any lying down in it, which, due to the dimensions of the box, kind of make him look like a little tiny vampire getting in and out of his coffin. Wrong holiday, man.

The funniest part was--well, the box had MADE IN CHINA printed all over it. So the first time Cal climbed into the box, Joe made some joke about how we were sending him back to China, making a big show about packing him up and whatnot. So for the rest of the night, Cal kept tugging at me to watch him "go back to China," getting in and out of the box. Say hi to the old country for me, boy.

patty and selma say hi




Look, I don't know you, but I can be pretty sure that standing out in the cold and flurries at Herald Square in a line snaking around the building, waiting for the DMV to open at 8:30am...probably isn't your favorite activity either. Nonetheless, it had to be done. There was a minimum of fuss--God bless New York, where you can renew your learner's permit for the second time (it's good for four years at a time--well, five years now, I'm told) without anyone batting an eye. I did have to retake the written test though, which I was initially worried about, not being all that familiar with the rules of the road. So, like any good former med student, I crammed. Now, granted, not all the questions were that hard (unless alcohol actually does enhances ones ability to drive, in which case I was sunk) but still, I got the usual nerd thrill at getting 100% on that 20 point multiple choice test. Yeah, I got 100% on my learner's permit exam! And yes, now that you mention it, I can read the top line on that eye chart! HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW?

Anyway, I'm $55 poorer, but now at least that's over with. Well, except for the actual "learning" part of the learner's permit. That's a struggle that goes on and on.

back to work




I'm back at work today, on call tonight. The good thing about taking overnight call as a senior is that sometimes you get to come into work late. Like most, I like to treat myself on these days. Wake up a little late, our nanny comes mid-morning and whisks Cal off to More Fun Activities Than I Could Ever Lead (today they're off to the zoo to give high-fives to the inhabitants of the monkey house), and I take a nice walk across town, have a leisurely solo lunch, and hit the medical campus library for a few hours, where I relax, do some reading, writing, whatnot. That's where I am right now, in fact. Hello, medical students! How's studying for finals going?

I am doing my relaxing now, because I think that my post-call day is going to be a little less free-wheeling. The second I get off work, I am heading into midtown to the DMV, where I will be renewing my New York State's learner's permit for the second time. Yes, I first got my learner's permit in 1998, and I have not yet gotten my driver's license. What of it?

Anyway, DMV tomorrow. As if this isn't one of life's least delightful post-call activities, it will also probably be the worst ID picture I've ever taken.

apparently my own wifely skills leave something to be desired




In my defense, I think the problem here was that I tried to bake these in the toaster oven instead of the regular oven to SAVE ENERGY (I don't even know if this is entirely true, but the regular oven is bigger, thereby needing more time to heat up) and the heating coils in the toaster oven got a little bit...close.

(These are biscuits from a tube, by the way. I know. Idiot proof, right? Well, I SURE SHOWED THEM, DIDN'T I?)

it also didn't detail her favorite meatloaf recipe

In an extension of my entry from yesterday, an excerpt from a book report I wrote in the third grade on Elizabeth Blackwell, attributed by some to be the first woman in the United States to graduate from medical school.




After going on at some length about the key points of the book--crossing the Atlantic, surviving a boat teeming with cholera, facing discrimination in a paternalistic society, triumphing over sexism to become the first woman doctor of the modern medical era, I end the book report with this point, which I believe was to address the question, "What didn't you like about the book?"




And across the world, hundreds of thousands of past, present and future Wellesley women cringe.