Conversations with the Med Student: The W Edition

I sure do love W. I love him more today than ever. We are on an infinite trajectory of love growth. Exciting times.

Our relationship is just easy. This is due in large part to how incredibly chill W is. Seriously, he is so laid back.

Now, don't get me wrong. He is still as anal and Type A as every other Med Student and Doctor out there.

For instance, he does our laundry.

Why, you may wonder?

Because, if he didn't, I would murder him.

On the rare occasion that I *attempt* the laundry, here are the barrage of questions and/or advice I get either before, during or after:

"Did you use extra hot water on those towels?"
Yes. W.

"Use cold on those darks."
No, really? I want them all to turn a dull shade of puce.

"Don't forget the OxyClean. I like my shirts white-white."
DO YOU THINK I'M AN IDIOT. OXYCLEAN WAS MY IDEA, W. FOR YOUR PIT STAINS. TAKE THAT.

"Don't dry my jeans."
This is the part where I drop the laundry basket and stalk off to watch reality tv.

Because, I mean, come on. We've been living together for nearly 4 years, W.

I KNOW YOU DON'T, HAVE NEVER, WILL NEVER, DRY YOUR EFFING JEANS.

And this, Friends, is why W does the laundry. And for the record, I have never once re-colored any loads of laundry or shrunk anything. Except, I did accidentally dry a pair of W's jeans, but I honestly thought they were mine! They shrunk a bit, but neither he nor I really liked them anyways. Win-win.

I digress.

I love W heartily and lately, I have really been enjoying our conversations. We can talk earnestly about the most mundane things all the while making torrents of fun of each other.

These conversations usually end with W cackling and remarking his usual, "You are the most ridiculous person I have ever met."

And with me saying, "LEAVE. GO STUDY."

These conversations are so stupid I won't burden you with them, but I did want to highlight a few of my favorite situations and remarks from dear W.

First of all, if you haven't noticed from previous pictures, W is a big guy. He is 6'3 and 3/4" (he will actually tell you this) and just over 200 lbs. He has always been muscular (even without trying) with like 1% body fat. Yes, I do hate him most of the time. His physique is, of course, due to genetics, but mostly it is thanks to the gallons of whole milk he has consumed on a weekly basis since leaving the womb. He loves milk. Keeping up his supply is mostly why we are so poor. True story. He has admitted to me countless times that if it wouldn't be weird, he would totally drink heavy cream, too. Yes, drink. Again, true story.

He is a milk-guzzling machine.

I am not. I enjoy the occasional bowl of cereal and small glass before bed, but most of the milk consumption in our household is by W. When I got on my running kick, I decided to clean up my diet a bit. I was also having horrible stomach pains that I thought were a result of my diet (pre-gluten free). I started to make spinach smoothies for breakfast and therefore began using more milk. Realizing my age and beginning to understand my fat intake, I decide that whole milk was not the best option for me. I grew up drinking 2% milk and thought that or even 1% would be a better option for me and really, for both of us. I mentioned switching to 2% to W.

Grooooaaaan. No, he liked his whole milk.

I reminded him that he would be turning, ahem, 30 soon.

Yeah, but .....

I then reminded him that the pediatrician he had been rotating with switched her patients (who are TWO YEAR OLDS, BY THE WAY) from whole milk to 2% milk after THE AGE OF TWO.

Yeah, but .........

I started buying 2% anyways. Really, heart health, W. Aren't you going to be a PHYSICIAN!?

You wouldn't believe what happened next, just a few days ago to be exact. We are driving back from our Friday night Mexican and margs treat, when W casually says,

"So, I'm thinking about switching to skim milk."

Yes, my jaw is still resting on the floor from that one.

Thank God I was sitting down and not eating or drinking anything because I surely would have hurt myself.

I don't understand him at all. Not one bit.

He went on to explain that there is some brand of milk out there that is skim but tastes and feels like whole.... yadda yadda yadda.

I will believe it when I see it, W.

Finally, I will leave you with one more event/conversation that still has me cracking up.

W and I went on a run yesterday. I am "training" for a half marathon (riight), so I had planned to run at least 4 miles. Usually, W and I keep pace with one another, since you know, a few weeks ago he just decided to be a runner and got up and ran 3.5 miles, no problem. However, yesterday, W's legs (in the shin region) started to hurt (pretty badly for him to complain). He had to stop several times. I kept going and meeting back up with him. Finally, I finished 4.5 miles and was ecstatic. It was .5 more than I had planned. That is a huge accomplishment for me. But, W, well, he was hurting pretty badly. I could also tell that it extended beyond the physical, but I didn't say anything. We got back to our apartment and were sitting on the floor opposite one another stretching, and I could tell that, indeed, something was wrong.

When W gets worried, he gets this look on his face that is at once haughty and annoyed and angry--but its his worried face.

He was sitting there examining his shins, pressing on them, removing his shoes, feeling the tops of his feet. Basically, he was acting all doctor-like.

"What's up?" I asked.

He said that his shins had never hurt like that before. He pointed out the two ping pong ball sized knots on the side of both of his legs. He pushed my fingers into the tight muscle. I could tell that he was "pulling a B"--or totally freaking out.

"I just can't stop thinking about compartment syndrome," he said.

"Compartment syndrome," I said. "I saw that on an episode of Bones. Don't you need some kind of severe trauma for that?" Yes, I learn things on TV. Impressive, right?

"No!" he snapped at me. "Do you know how many times I've gotten the question, 'A man in his thirties goes out for a jog and comes back with painful and swollen shins..........What is the diagnosis? Answer: Compartment Syndrome,' on board's review?!"

"No," I said. "I'm sorry. I don't know that much about it. I'm sure you're fine."

W, by the way, had been continuously checking and re-checking his vitals and legs.

"I just know too much," he said. "Do you know how to treat compartment syndrome?"

Oh, me! Me! I do know!

"Don't you have to slice open the skin?" I asked.

"Yeah, to relieve the pressure. You could lose a foot," he said.

SCORE ONE FOR THE BONES FAN. (You know, its the episode where Bones and Hodgins are kidnapped by the grave digger and buried alive in the car.)

Y'all, honestly. At this point, I'm trying my best to keep a straight face. You see, W, ever the rational one, has become a bit of a hypochondriac since starting medical school.

There was this time last year where he thought he had cancer, not once, BUT TWICE. And on one of the occasions, it was just a swollen sweat gland in his armpit. But it was DEFINITELY CANCER. And like, the really deadly kind.

Its not funny, I know. But if you knew W, you would totally be laughing right now.

Now, me? I am a hypochondriac. There's no denying it. There's no question. I think a flesh-eating bacteria is hiding around the corner at any given moment just waiting to eat my face off. Serial killers? Rapists? They are cake. Just the thought of flesh-eating bacteria will reduce me to hyperventilation and tears.

This is something I live with daily, so I felt for W. I did. But, come on. There's only room for one hypochondriac in this marriage!

I kept my cool and fetched him some ice, a strawberry and banana smoothie (potassium for the cramps, which is all that they were) and a big glass of water.

Don't worry about W. It was indeed NOT compartment syndrome. Surprise, surprise.

Of course, he was still checking his vitals hours later (ie: feeling for the pulse on the top of his foot and checking flexibility), but all was well.

He's just a big baby, and I love all 200+ lbs. of him.

-b

B's Vice: Reality TV

I love reality TV. A lot.

Not all of it, but most of it.

I think it all began at the very young age of 2 with the debut 

of my very first "favorite" reality show:

America's Funniest Home Videos

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It has been all downhill since.

Remember when Nickelodeon had reality TV??

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I expect that only a child of the 90s would know these shows.

Then, came the pre-teen and teenage years' obsession with 

MTV's Real World and, for a brief time, Road Rules.

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Real World New Orleans was my favorite season by far. The dynamics were incredible. You had the hot and sexy and sensitive gay guy, Danny, who I had a major crush on--I even liked his soul patch. Then, you had the super-Catholic-uber-hip-with-his-bleached-blond-spikey-do Matt, who Julie crushed on majorly. Ah, Julie, sweet, innocent Julie, a Mormon at odds with her college's and her parents' morals. Jamie, the sexy, all-American male, loved by Melissa, the fiery and funny artist. And Kelley, who was kind of a bitch and pretty boring as she spent most of her time fighting with her hot med-school boyfriend. Finally, David was talented, a bit self-centered, but they all got along with him in the end.

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Road Rules: Northern Trail was my fave. I loved Noah and thought Dan was such a hottie.

God, its like I'm 13 all over again!

And, then, it happened: THE BEST THING EVER.

My senior year of high school, 2004-2005, the best show, still my number one, debuted:

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Project Runway, of course!

And these two:

(This is the USPS challenge where Jay's model--never the reliable one--partied a little too hard the night before and didn't show up for the runway. Austin--in true Austin-Scarlett fashion--volunteered to model Jay's garment. Awwwwwww. Love them.)

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Then, came a barrage of goodies:

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I have only ever loved Jill and Bethenny. I have always despised Luanne and Kelly.

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My idol.

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Another female, business role model. Love her.

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Ugh. Olivi-a. I was on your side, Erin.

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Yes, its true. I love the Kardashians. Haters gone hate, but you have to give them credit for being famous for...... nothing. BOOM! I also love the spin-offs: Kourtney and Kim Take Miami.

So, there you have it, a sampling of my favorite reality TV shows and how it all began.

Not included but adored equally by me: Survivor (back when it first came out), Biggest Loser, All of Gordon Ramsay's shows, House Hunters International, DUCK DYNASTY (love, love, love it), America's Next Top Model, Married to Jonas, and I am sure I've forgotten a few.

There is one new reality TV show that I gave a go, but--just--DON'T do it.
DO NO WATCH WHAT WOULD RYAN LOCHTE DO.
 It will seriously lower your IQ.

It is a terrible, terrible show. It is exactly like this:

Reality TV Shows B is Currently Watching:

-The Rachel Zoe Project - Wednesdays at 9 on Bravo
-Its a Brad Brad World - Wednesdays at 10 on Bravo
-Project Runway - Thursdays at 9 on Lifetime - until the finale tonight!
-Hell's Kitchen - Mondays at 8 on Fox
-Married to Jonas - Sundays at 10 on E

I swear I am not as vapid as my taste in reality TV.

What are your TV vices, or just vices in general?

-b 

What I'm Loving

Life has been so busy lately.

Can you believe that half of April has already faded away in a sun-filled and blossom-frangranced blur?

I feel like it was just snowing.

Oh, that's right. It was.

Alas, time does not favor us mere mortals and flits and flies away at its own selfish pace.

It didn't help that for the entirety of last week, I was glued to a television screen or tuned into NPR awaiting updates on the Boston bombings. I think that the older I get and the closer I come to having children the more these senseless acts of violence affect me. I spent most of last week on the verge of tears and was hardly comforted by the capture of Suspect 2. I can't help but wonder at the wide and tangled web of which these two brothers were most likely a very small part.

Its scary. And I was scared and heartbroken and discouraged.

So, yesterday, I scrubbed the apartment and sat in the sun and read magazines and blogs and listened to good music and ate jalapenos on everything.

And that sort of made things a little better.

Now, instead of diving into Reading with Marilyn as I had planned (since her's is not a very happy story either), let's enjoy something light and lovely.

In honor of Spring in all of its pastel glory, I would like to shine the spotlight on some of my current loves.

Because, who doesn't need some LOVE right now?

1. I love everything on Design*Sponge, but lately, I can't get enough of the Biz Ladies Profiles on creative women entrepreneurs. Its fascinating and inspiring. Check them out! I also adore the Sneak Peeks--they make my Mondays sunny.

I am still reading (very slowly) Blonde by Joyce Carol Oates. It is fascinating. I can't wait to share with you all that I have learned about Marilyn. 

2. I love, love, love smearing this lotion all over my face. It makes you glow, I swear! And, it has SPF 15. Aveeno Ultra-Calming Moisturizer, $14.99

3. JALAPENOS. My new favorite thing. Here are a few tried and true recipes with the sassy pepper:

Jalapeno Hummus

Mario Batali's Fettucine with Lemon, Hot Peppers and Pecorino Romano - my ALL-TIME favoritve (I don't de-seed the jalapenos when I make this. Bring the heat!)

Michael Simon's Corn Salsa with Jalapenos - he serves this with double-cut porkchops, but seriously, I could eat this stuff with just a spoon. We had it Sunday night with porkchops and rice and black beans. W keeps asking when we can have it again!

4. When we first moved to Lewisburg, one of the first purchases I made for my wardrobe was a bright yellow infinity scarf from a crazy expensive boutique. It was the cheapest thing in there at $25! I wear it all the time (year around), so I feel like it was worth the investment. Yellow infinity scarf, $14.00 (On Etsy: handmade and hand-dyed scarf that looks just like mine for a fraction of the cost!)

5. Are you as excited as I am for the finale of Project Runway this Thursday night?! I might have to indulge myself in some champagne and chocolate to celebrate. And, yes, I would be doing that alone.... Project Runway Finale, Thursday, April 25 at 9pm ET on Lifetime.

6. I cannot stop listening to the Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros station on Pandora. It is so good. W concurs. Give it a try!

7. With Spring came my renewed obsession with La Croix grapefruit a la all of high school. I was addicted to flavored sparkling waters. And not because I was some health nut. My stomach (pathetic, sensitive organ that it is) cannot handle sugar-packed sodas, so the fizzy alternatives became my indulgence. Its ba-ack! And, of course, W is NOT happy about it. Oh well.

I love white wine, but W prefers red, so I indulge him. There is nothing better than a glass of red wine, good tunes and lounging on our newly transformed porch-ony.

Porch-ony. See Below:

Our fragile porch-ony is accessed from our living room. Its a tight space, hence the terrible picture angle and the name--not quite a porch but more than a balcony. I added some lighting, two beautiful ferns and a dill and basil plant from the farmers market, and some accessories I found while, ahem, basement diving. We then picked up two, cheap, plastic adirondak chairs since the porch-ony is exposed to all elements. We didn't want to invest in anything too nice that we would also have to haul across a few states when we move for residency.

Next on the To-Do list, is to find and buy: an outdoor rug to hide the hideous, moss-covered astroturf; pillows/cushions for the chairs; a low, weatherproof ottoman; a low table.

Here it is at night, seen through our very dirty window. So romantic though!

What are you loving right now?

-b

Completed: One 10K

We did it! We ran the 10k!

If you can believe it, I actually finished the entire race without stopping. It was at once awful, thrilling and exhausting. I am so proud and glad that I did it, but, boy, am I glad that its over.

Its no fun to have something like 6.2 miles (!!) and hills (!!!) hanging over your head for weeks. Especially when the farthest you have ever run in your entire life was 5 miles and that was on a tread mill, without inclines, with water at the ready, with HVAC, with Andy Griffith playing on the TV immediately in front of you, and with a .25 mile break after the first 2 miles.

I thought that surely I was screwed.

You see, the training sort of took a back seat to, well, eating chocolate, catching up on Hells Kitchen, not cleaning the house and other such wonderful excuses as Junior League and my selfless volunteer work. Obviously, I was busy................

So, after taking a two week break from running (which means I didn't run AT ALL), I decided the Sunday before the race that I should probably start training again. My training was a disaster. I managed 3.4 on Sunday; 3.4 on Tuesday and a measly 2.8 on Thursday. I was DOOMED.

Skip ahead to Friday night, Cap and I are carbing it up and I realize that I am an idiot and the course that I thought we were running was indeed NOT the course we would be running. The course set for our torture was a winding path, up and down hills through gorgeous country. But, HILLS. I had been training for months on the treadmill and then for the last week on flat as flat can be ground.

At that point, it was all over for me.

So, I put on my sleuth hat and decided to research the slowest runner from last year's race. They came in at 94 minutes. I then figured that if I could run 4 miles in 50 mins. that I would be able to walk the remaining 2.2 miles in about 30 mins. Perfect. I would still finish faster than last year's slowest runner. This was my game plan going into Saturday.

Skip to the wee hours of Saturday. Its 4am. I haven't slept a wink--tossing and turning and cowtailing to my suddenly bottomless bladder. Then, Saturday looked more like Doomsday than a let's-frolic-through-the-fields-on-an-invigorating-6.2-mile-jaunt.

Cue terror.

Skip to Saturday morning, 8:52am. The race start time has been moved to 9:10, owing to the lengthy line snaking its way out of the women's restroom. Of course, Cap and I were smack in the middle of it. I began to size up the competition. I am ashamed to admit that my sizing-up-the-competition consisted of a comparison of thigh circumferences and ass widths. Yes, I judged how fast people would be able to run from the size of their dairyers and other appendages.

Yeah, yeah. I am a terrible person.

How terrible? It totally boosted my confidence. That terrible.

Human beings are honestly the worst. Or, maybe just me?

Horrible Person. This is me sizing up the competition and also how excited I am to run.

Skip to 9:08am. We are standing at the starting line. IT IS EFFING FREEZING. Its 40 degrees and so windy (because we live on top of mountains here). I really don't do well with cold. My body begins to convulse in erratic shivers as my teeth chatter uncontrollably. I am sure that my body will expend all of its little-bit of energy attempting to fight off hypothermia before the race even begins. Also, the cold makes my eyes water and nose run, so that my shirt sleeves were soaked with snot and tears within seconds.

I was the picture of health and beauty, I tell you.

I mean, take another gander at the lovely picture above. Don't you see what W saw 4+ years ago?!

Skip to 9:10am and we are off. Thank God. We take it slow as that was our strategy. My teeth are still chattering so hard I thought they might shatter. People of all shapes and sizes are passing us left and right. My favorite was the 80+ year old man in short-shorts that would make your Grandma blush. At least we were distracted.

Skip to .75 miles in. We are ascending our first windy hills and my teeth have finally stopped chattering to be replaced by something much, much worse.

DISCLAIMER: Things are about to get Running Triple X Rated up in here.

The squeamish should leave now. Fair warning!

Because of the bitter temperatures and blowing wind, my sinuses decided to dispel all of their sinus-y fluid down the back of my throat--a waterfall of mucus that nearly drowned me and then produced the foulest of the foul. Thick, sticky and clear mucus formed a globule on the back of my tongue and would not budge for anything. I tried to swallow it. HUGE mistake. I nearly strangled myself. But not to worry. The gag reflex has its pluses and can come in very useful at times. I managed to force it out of my windpipe with the most unearthly grunt-groan-cough-like-a-cat-with-a-furball-worthy hack. I quickly looked around to make sure that everyone within ear shot was wearing headphones. Phew. They were.

I decided to leave the mucus and formulate a new game plan.

Skip to 1.5 miles in. I am still cradling that mucus glob on the back of my tongue and have finally found myself in a new group of people to disgust. I decide its go-time. I consider spitting, weighing my options. Option 1: Move over to the side of the road, bend down and spit the champion of spits while still maintaining my stride. I've never been very graceful. I think that it could end badly, but brace myself to proceed with the plan. But then, I consider how sticky it is and can just see myself attempting to spit and it coming right back--splat--in my face like a paddle ball. See image below.

I decide to move on from Option 1.

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Option 2: I get the brilliant idea to just claw it out of my mouth and smear it down the front of my shirt to match my snotty, tear-stained arms. But then I figure that I would probably just succeed in biting off a few fingers in the process, so I decide to risk my life again and attempt o swallow it.

And, it actually worked! Success!

Skip to 3 miles in and we are approaching the water station. I wanted to cry. (By the way, Cap and I are still running together at this point.) I grab a cup, and Cap, slightly ahead of me at this point, grabs one and just keeps on going.

Hold up. I am not coordinated enough for that crap. But not wanting to fall behind or lose momentum, I figure that if I can swallow a mucus globule, I can manage a few sips of water mid-stride. In my first attempt, I bring the cup towards my face, which for some dumb, unexplained reason signaled to my feet that they should begin to hop--you know, like a show pony. That was when the first and then second wave of water crashed down upon me and splashed everywhere except in my mouth. But not to be discouraged, I managed to stop my hopping feet, took a deep breath and braced myself for Attempt #2. I brought the cup towards my mouth and with a little head maneuvering and lip protruding managed to get a sizable amount of water in my mouth.

Before that point, I hadn't considered what I would actually do with the water once I got it in. You see, in a perfect world, I would have just swallowed and enjoyed the refreshment. But I was halfway through running-hell, a place that requires most orifices to gulp in oxygen in the hopes of, well, continuing to run. So, when you take away one of the most important oxygen-gulping orifices, you find yourself, eyes bulging and lungs exploding, in big trouble. I couldn't swallow the water for fear of drowning myself, yet I lacked the coordination to properly expel the water from my mouth with a simple side-spit.

What other choice did I have but to let it dribble out of the corners of my mouth and leak down my front?

NONE. I had no other choice. And so, that is exactly what happened.

Skip to 200 feet from the finish line and Cap is about a minute ahead of me having left my gross ass in the dust. I don't blame her one bit.

Who wants to run 6.2 miles next to a snotty, barking, drooling idiot?

At this point, I've made it, and I can't believe it. And all I really want to do is devour a large cheese pizza and 20 oz. coke, followed by a cheesecake, while watching a Kardashian marathon. But, I kept running, I even sped up a bit.

And then, I did it. I crossed the finish line. I ran 6.2 miles without stopping--the farthest in my life. And I am so proud of myself. (And Cap!)

I still don't know my official time, but based on Cap's watch, I came in at about 64 minutes.

What an accomplishment!

And this is what I looked like in all of my gorgeous, running glory:

Did you reach a running goal? Tell us about it!

-b

**And only because I love you, dear reader, did I post these horrifying pictures of me at my worst. 

On Running and Skinny People

So, remember this? I try to forget it daily but the looming deadline of, um, THIS WEEKEND*, has me running scared. Literally.

After I created this cute little graphic and posted it, I proceeded to not run again until this past Sunday.

Don't you all want to be my best friend now? I'm so committed.

All last week, I found myself scrolling through the interweb, where I kept reading about amazing women who do amazing things while looking amazing.

And, this kept happening: 

Scroll, scroll. Stop. Read. Get distracted by svelte arms and toothpick thighs. Think:

That skinny bitch. She does it all. She's got it all.

And, she's skinny.

Scroll, scroll, scrolling. Stop. Stare at adorable picture of said skinny bitch with her six beautiful children, wearing their crafted crowns and eating homemade apple sauce from their home grown apples, along with her bearded husband, two goats, one pot-belly pig and a litter of white kittens. BLAH.

Gah, I really want to hate her.

How does she do it?

I bet she would explain how she has achieved her amazing life with some ridiculous crap like: 

 "I do yoga at 5:30am before even the chickens are up. And, I just can't drink my fill of green tea. (smiles a huge, toothy smile). We also grow our own produce year around in our greenhouse. I don't like cheese and abhor meat. We are vegan. The goats are for looks. We like to roll around in the mud with the pig. Oh, and, no grains!"

So, you eat vegetables and vegetables?

OH.

I'd be Sports-Illustrated-cover-ready if I lived in that household, too.

I would also be mean. Like, stab-you-for-a-piece-of-chocolate-and-lick-your-salty-fingers-I'm-so-effing-hungry mean.

Scroll, scroll, scroll. Stop. Let mind wander to a world without cheese. No grains--no rice?! No way. No steak!? How. Think.

Exercise. Everything in moderation and exercise. I run. I'm good. Well, I mean, I ran last week. It was pretty far. 3.1, right? Wait. It wasn't last week. NO, the week before?!

 

OH MY GOD I HAVE TO RUN A 10K IN LESS THAN A WEEK. 

This is my friend Margaret who I adore and who informed me just last night that as long as you eat right, you don't have to exercise and will be skinny. Hahahahahaha. I love you, Marg! (As we eat cupcakes, BTW.)

Still with me? Let's go back to this past Sunday when I donned the running shoes after, ahem, a few days of being utterly inactive. I decided to run along the river path, since Darling Spring has decided to stop and stay a while and it was gorgeous and sunny. Cap and I had previously done this run, and it. defeated. me.

W decided to join me, which at once thrilled and terrified me. I would have to beat him.

From my starting point on the path to the bridge where the path ends is 1.7 miles. That morning, I had two goals: 1. Beat W and 2. Just make it to the bridge no matter what.

A few things you should know, W does not run regularly. Prior to Sunday, he had run maybe twice this year. I thought that even though he is perfect and excels at everything he does he would surely suck it up--supplying me with ample confidence and motivation. Oh, and of course, a good run...... Thanks, W......

We started our run. A mile in and my hammies were screaming. (I had weeded the garden at work a few days before and was already sore from bending over--hahahaha, I am so lame.) I thought I would never make it. I kept going though because W didn't seem even close to stopping. I don't even think he was breathing let alone sweating. Jerk.

As we approached the bridge (1.7 miles), I decided to make myself keep going. We turn around, and BAM, are running against strong, whipping wind. We keep going. I actually didn't mind the wind. It sort of forced oxygen into my lungs without me having to gasp and gulp it in. I am sure this is a scientific fact.

About 2.5 miles into it and I'm thinking that I'm going to do one of two things 1. Puke or 2. Push W in the river and end the torture.

But, I soldiered on.

At 3.1 miles, I say, "Not much farther. We will stop where we started."

Of course, I really was just grunting at him while gasping for air. He speaks running-ese, though, so he understood. I said it more to comfort myself but thought he surely must be struggling by now.

He says, "How far have we gone? 1.5 miles?"

STOP EVERYTHING. Did he really just say that? Surely the lack of oxygen to my brain has me hearing things.

I wanted to push him in the river but my arms wouldn't listen to any commands.

1.5 miles?!!? We had been running for 35 minutes at this point.

I somehow manage to breath out, "It will be 3.4 miles."

"Really!?" W says. "Want to keep going? I got my second wind."

I WILL MURDER HIM IN HIS SLEEP ONE OF THESE NIGHTS.

Are you running along with us? Making any progress? I think I am going for 4 miles today. Fingers crossed for me!

-b

*Cap and I are attempting running a 10k on Saturday morning  

hello spring!

This winter seemed as though it would never end.  After some unexpected snowfall last week, I was seconds away from a breakdown.  That would have marked a first in breakdowns from precipitation... and it would have been well deserved.

This is what my front yard looked like on April 4th.  I laughed at first, and then nearly cried when reality set in...

A SOUTHERN GIRL NEEDS HER SUNSHINE.

Mother Nature was apparently only playing a delayed April Fool's joke on all of Southern WV, because the dreaded snow melted by sunrise the following morning.

AND THE ANGELS SING.

I get that snow can be beautiful and magical and all that jazz, but trust me dear friends... those qualities fade!

Today, I opened my front door and felt the warmth of morning light on my bare legs and arms.  It was MARVELOUS.

Hello Spring! You seem brighter and warmer this year.  Would you care to stay for a while?

It is quite fascinating to see what 70 degree weather can do to someone's soul.  In my case, it makes me eat less, run more, and smile often.  There is one downfall, and that is the sudden urge I get to eat Key Lime Pie.  Which is quite detrimental for whipping into bikini season.

But sometimes in life, you just have to say...

("Eff" picture inspired by Bri Jackson.  I think she has a "Chive On" phenomenon waiting to happen)

To celebrate Spring, here's my favorite Key Lime Pie Recipe:

Courtesy of Nicole Green

Key Lime Pie  

3 cups condensed milk

1/2 cup sour cream

3/4 cup lime juice

1T lime zest

Mix all ingredients together and bake at 350 for 5 mins.

Graham Cracker Crust

I did not make my own crust this time, but just in case you're feeling very Martha Stewart-esque....I have used this recipe before. 

Whipped Cream

1 cup heavy whipping cream

1 teaspoon vanilla extract 

3 T confectioners' sugar

Whip heavy cream until it starts to thicken.  Add in vanilla extract and sugar until soft peaks form.  Spread over pies using a spatula or piping.

Serve with love and ENJOY!

Happy Spring Friends!

-Cap

D.C. is for Lovers

Before I begin my gush over D.C. I just want to vent...

Why? WHY? WHYYYYYYY are board exams so dang expensive?  Is it not enough that we are deprived of our sanity for an education?  Must you also deprive us of our sorry excuse of an income for a COMPUTERIZED TEST?

Let this be a warning for all you Med School hopefuls and sweet wives of student doctors:
Start a savings account now, or be prepared to sell your soul.

Okay.  That is all.

Now for the fun stuff:

Though I'm still two years and a scary board exam away from thinking about residency locations... I can't seem to stop dreaming of J and me moving to D.C. for his years as a resident.  I've loved Washington from the very first time I laid eyes on it 2 years ago, and the more I visit the deeper in love I fall.  It reminds me of New Orleans... only cleaner, larger, more cultured, and not has humid.

Bri invited me to tag along on some really fun museum work (which made me realize I may love history more than I thought), and we turned it into a mini girl's vacay. Why not, right?

The city streets, daily Starbucks, Greek food, fro yo, and majestic flea markets were nearly a fun overload.  Nearly.

I'm not sure if it was to counteract with our margs and sugar intake or just an excuse to look like a local, but Bri and I walked EVERYWHERE!  We also grabbed a glass of wine at the hotel bar (classy style), and were in bed by 10 ever night.  We travel well together.  :)

After our amazing weekend I am now not only positive that I could live in a big city, but I am drooling at the thought of one day actually moving into a 700 sq. ft. studio apartment. 

Here's a little peek at some of the fun we had.



Margarita for two in Capital Hill



The Mall on National Kite Day.

More Kite Day fun.

How adorable is this?!  This is why I want to live in Capital Hill.... I'm pretty sure it's a great start to having cool cultured kids.



Faking a daily run.  We wanted an excuse to wear workout clothes and tennis shoes all day.



The Capital

-Cap

Third Year Update

Wow. Nine months--nearly ten--into third year, and I can't believe how time has flown.

Of course, looking back to last summer, I thought we'd never make it. Things were so crazy and new and stressful. Neither W nor I were able to make it to the SC coast for either of our families' annual beach trips.

This summer will mark two, 2, TWO, dos, t-w-o years since we have been to the beach--laid eyes on a dune--smelled that pungent pluff--tasted that delicious salty goodness.

That makes me so incredibly sad.

I grew up just over an hour from the Myrtle Beach area. My family has owned the most adorable beach bungalow at Surfside Beach (about 30 mins. south of Myrtle) since the 40s. I grew up at the beach. That is not an exaggeration. When I was in the 8th grade, my parents, brother and I started staying for a week at a condo at Garden City Beach (10 mins. south of Surfside) because my grandfather was renting out the beach house at that time. We met and made lifelong friends there, the Stephens, who have a son my brother's age and a daughter my age (Rachel). Its been 13 years since that first condo stay and we are still vacationing with the Stephens every year for the week of the 4th. Missing last summer was so, so, so hard. I have decided that I will not miss this year for anything. I plan to book my super cheap flight as soon as they go on sale for like $30/one way. Thanks, Spirit!

Also, my poor parents would have to go by themselves this year since my brother is in the Army and is now stationed at Ft. Drum.

I just couldn't bear the thought of leaving them all alone on the 4th. Daughterly duty calls. :)

A glimpse into our DC trip this past weekend.

Anyways, the inspiration behind this post was the discussion that W and I had the other morning over lattes. W is in the process of mapping out his fourth year, which consists of audition rotations and interviews. We have decided that I will accompany him on as many interviews as possible. We also discussed the cities that we will be focusing on.

Those cities are below and in order of appeal (to me). Also, the fact that I was even able to have a coherent discussion about our future without hyperventilating, fainting or running away shows great achievements in my ability to control my Type A anxieties and freak outs. I'm quite proud.

The LIST.

1. Charleston, SC
2. Washington, DC
3. Baltimore, MD
4. Richmond, VA
5. Birmingham, AB
6. Philadelphia, PA
7. NYC
8. Charlotte, NC or Charlottesville, VA
9. Greenville, SC
10. Louisville, KY
11. Boston, MA
12. Lexington, KY

I think that fourth year might be the diet/weight loss plan I've been looking for. Nothing gets my adrenaline going like looking into the great unknown. The whole matching process might actually do me in.

Now, back to third year.

-b

Stay tuned for a post on our wonderful DC trip this weekend!