The Third Year

You know, when you start on this whole wife-of-a-medical-student path, you encounter lots of folks along the way who are undisputed experts on medical school (BTW) who enjoy nothing more than warning you of the extreme suck-factor of medical school. A small portion of these warnings should be heeded. The others should be immediately purged from your mind before their destructive powers take over.

Medical school does indeed suck. That much is oh so true.

Here are examples of some warnings you might receive upon embarking on a med school journey:

"You will never see him again. Ever. In your whole life. He will pay the bills, leave a mess in the bathroom, father your children, and yeah, that's about it." Thanks, I was worried I'd never get rid of him. Relief!

"Say your goodbyes now while you still have him!"

"Your apartment will smell like corpses for the first couple of months of med school." Natch.

"My sister's brother left her for a 21 year old nurse with a nose ring after she supported his sorry ass all through med school and residency. I hope your husband doesn't do that to you." Thanks, complete stranger, for your concern.

"He will leave you eventually. You know that, right?" I guess I do now....

"You're gonna be roooollliiiiiin'." In $270,000 of student loans. What. WHAT.

Mr. Sensitive

(source)

Then, there were the helpful been-there-done-that mature second year, third year, fourth year students, residents, and actual doctors with advice.

"First year will be tough, and he will study a lot. Get a hobby and make some friends." Yes, do this immediately. I am hobby-challenged and unfortunately left my friend-making skills back in kindergarten, so this little nugget was a bit useless for me.

"Second year will be hell. Boards will turn him into a phantom." This. Is. So. True.

"Don't hate him too much the first two years. The third year is so much better. There's more free time. You will see him much more."

"Fourth year is incredible. Just have fun." I'm excited for this one!

"He will disappear again for residency." But, he will be making money. I think I can deal. (Just kidding.....)

So, now, me, the wife of a third year medical student will give you my very own low-down. For whatever its worth, here goes.

First year sucked.

Second year sucked more.

Third year has been easier so far. Sure, we still spend a good bit of time apart (EM rotation took him away for night shifts), but overall, he does have more free time. He actually watches TV with me (AND WHO DOESN'T LOVE FALL TV, WHO? I DON'T BELIEVE YOU. TWO WORDS: NEW GIRL.). He doesn't lock himself up to study for 8 hour blocks anymore. He has a memory that mostly works. His appetite has greatly improved. We spend most Saturdays or Sundays together without study interruptions doing fun things instead of zombie-ing out on the sofa because he is in a study stupor and I am just BORED.

[Isn't it strange that boredom usually results in inactivity. Why are we so dumb? Cats for instance are never bored. Sure, they sleep 18 hours a day, but the rest of the time they spend chasing their tails, pawing at everything, attacking curtains, rolling around in the bathtub, unraveling toilet paper, lounging on kitchen counters and tables that they should know better. Cats have got it figured out.]

Jokesters.

(source)

Yes, we are poorer than ever. Third year has come with monetary obligations that we didn't expect or else just did a terrible job of budgeting. (Note: W's school has a statewide campus for third year, meaning that 95% of the students must move from Lewisburg for rotations.)

Learn from our mistakes/imprudence.

First mistake: Not budgeting for a moving company. / Not planning the move at a more convenient time for family/friends to assist (if you'd rather go that route).

We chose the moving company. You see, our families are in SC, and we picked Memorial Day weekend to move. I just couldn't do that to our families. So, the movers were really a necessity and ended up ($800 later) being a huge relief to both of us. Yes, it was nearly $1,000 to move us 1.5 hours, but it was two very tall flights of steps on both ends that W and I didn't have to wrestle our ridiculously heavy furniture up and down by ourselves. Also, I had to deal with our black cat, who hyperventilates, drools, panics, morphs into Satan while in a car. It was the longest 1.5 hour drive of my life. I had to bear hug her the whole time as she dug her claws into my thighs and salivated long, sticky, clear drool all down my front. AWESOME.

Don't do this.

(source)

Second mistake: Not asking W very specific questions about all that third year rotations entail. AKA Gas money has sucked our bank account dry.

For instance, I didn't know (I'm still not sure whether W knew this in advance or not) that W would be expected to travel up to two hours away for certain rotations. His first rotation was eight weeks in Family Medicine at a clinic 30 minutes away; then, his four week Emergency Med rotation was at the same location. This was a solid three months with a 30 minute commute (each way). Now, his geriatrics rotation requires him to travel 1.5 hours (each way) one day a week. I know this doesn't seem at all extreme, but consider our previous situation in Lewisburg. I walked to work every day and W (if he actually went to class) only had a 2-5 minute commute. We maybe got gas once every week-and-a-half to two weeks. Now that we have my brother's Jeep (because I was NOT going to be abandoned at work any longer), I shudder to think about our monthly gas expense. I would safely assume it has tripled since Lewisburg.

Third mistake: Higher cost of living.

I guess that we are complete idiots in this regard. We knew Lewisburg was expensive. We were paying $750/month for a one bedroom (all utilities included except electric, which several times reached a whopping $160, but was usually $50-$75). This is high for a town of 3,500 people especially when you consider the rowdy bar across the street and cattle trailers and gravel trucks (jake brakes always included) that would rattle past our street-front apartment at all hours. Our rent now is cheaper but no utilities are included. We easily pay more now than we ever did in Lewisburg. IDIOTS.

Also, there are actually like fun things to do here and more than 2 bars and 4 restaurants to choose from. YES, ITS TRUE. This phenomenon of having options was not considered. Big. Mistake.

Fourth mistake: Getting a 2 bedroom after having a 1 bedroom.

We definitely wanted a second bedroom since our families come so often to visit. Of course, a second bedroom requires a second bed. NO WAY. We thought treating ourselves to a new mattress was a great idea..................... And it was! I just wish we had budgeted for it.

Fifth mistake: Not considering the cost of all of the books and study materials--not to mention the insanely high cost of the board exam itself.

Nothing but a solid education (blah) is included in that $50,000/year tuition. Uh, DUH. We were only slightly blindsided by this one. Do your research. Study materials are freaking expensive. Beginning with second year, you should just go ahead and plan on spending $2,000 on study material and the board exam. If you are a DO student and plan to take MD boards, add another $1,000 to that amount.

If only it were this simple.

(source)

That about sums it up. I hope that this helps just a few of you or enlightens those of you who think doctors make it rain from day one.

-b

Hello Boards, Goodbye Husband.

Life has been great lately.  Aside from getting sick and straining a muscle, I have managed to get back to my normal running routine and I am now a member of the local yoga center.  I haven’t made any friends yet, but having an adorable puppy has led to lots of random conversations with strangers.  And that my friends… MAKES ME FEEL NORMAL AGAIN!  :)

Who knew human interaction would be so exciting.  You’d think I’ve been stuck in the pen (that’s gangster for penitentiary) for YEARS!

Mosley a.k.a. Mosie, Mose, Mosie-Wosie, Puppy, Puppy Love, and Puppy-Luppy (no wonder the dog doesn’t answer when I call) has been quite the little human attraction lately.  Whether we’re walking the greenbrier river trail or picking out fresh pumpkins and tomatoes from the farmer’s market, the pups (yet another name) attracts people like a magnetic force field.  One man, who stopped me on the river trail to tell me about his daughter who has a yorkie, recognized me in Kroger and actually said HELLO!  (SCORE ONE FOR PUP!)

I haven't randomly bumped into ANYONE that recognized me in the 3 ½ months I have lived here.  That was a good feeling.

People know me.  I don’t only exist in my head.  NICE.

                                                                             Source

Puppy has entered my life at the perfect timing.  J has started studying for boards, and I have been pretty sick lately.  Last week I had strep throat, and managed to strain a muscle in my back at yoga class.  I could not comfortably sit, eat, sleep, lie, or stand for three days.  The doctor gave me a heavy dose of muscle relaxers for my back, and for someone who passes out at the mere sight of Benadryl; it was quite a hilarious adventure!  Puppy kept me entertained and cuddled with me during the lonely recovery.  It was nice. 

Story:

J has a friend doing the GTA (graduate teaching assistant) program here.  In an effort to give me a little more human interactions than Kroger, we all met up for dinner this past Friday night.  I’d been in pain all day, but kept resisting the muscle relaxer.  Around 6pm, I decided I couldn’t fight the pain anymore (I was also sick of standing like the hunchback of Notre Dame).  We met for dinner at 7pm, and everything was going well.  I was actually holding my own, and I felt pretty dang good.  I decided to order a glass of Pino.  (You see where this is going, right?)

Source

One glass of Pino + flexeril + Cap = me developing a severe eye twitch, a toddler’s attention span, and a very hungry tummy.  I would make a hilarious drug addict.

After a plate of stuffed ravioli, chicken parm, 2 breadsticks, AND a slice of strawberry cheesecake (and 3 hours of board exam talk), I WAS A HOT MESS!

I attempted going to the bathroom after 3 hours of uncomfortable sitting, and SERIOUSLY could not straighten my back.  Please take a moment to picture it…

A drunk, 5’1” girl with high wedges (this decision was made right when the flexeril kicked in obviously), an eye twitch, and a back warp 1000x’s worse than Quasimodo trying to make it to a bathroom that was LITERALY on the complete opposite side of the restaurant and down a wheel chair ramp.  I did all this while trying (and failing) to look normal.

HOT MESS, PEOPLE!

  Source

Also, during the long blur of a dinner… we apparently made arragements to do it all (minus flexeril) again this weekend. 

This means I have to show my face again to these very same people.  (HOLLA!)  <-- That’s white girl for not cool.

My flexeril and I might have ruined my only hope for permanent friends in the Burg.  FUN!

So back to my post about how life with puppy has come at the perfect time…

J has officially started the never-ending trek of stressing for boards.  Granted, I’m no med school student (thankfully), but starting to stress about something that is literally 8 months away makes me want to pluck my eyeballs out.

Last night, while I’m peacefully laying in bed saying my prayers and thinking about political debates, puppy, and how many cups of coffee I’ll have in the morning, J says… “Cap, do you realize boards are in JUNE?!  I ordered a Q bank online today and I will have 3,007 questions I have to complete.  Then, W says there is another bank I should get with 2,100 questions (thanks W), AND I worked out this plan where if I work 20 questions a day every morning… I can finish them all before June.  I’m going to start tomorrow.  W also says I should start taking practice board exams once a week in May, so that will take up about 6 hours a week on top of the questions I’m already doing.”

HUH?  I was only on my second cup of imaginary coffee when you started that stress rant….

“J, RELAX! It’s OCTOBER!  I fully believe you should indeed start preparing yourself for board exams, but maybe you should hold the stress level down a notch until… I don’t know… maybe MARCH?”

This whole second year bit is going to be a hard one.  I’m thankful pup is around to talk to me, because I will obviously not have a hubs for quite a while.

First year had it's troubles.  With getting acclimated to living 1000 miles away, snow, and J working on cadavers, but that all seems like a magical Disney vacation compared to the feelings I have towards 2nd year.  

 -Cap

On Busyness & B Travels

The setting for the story you are about to read.

 WHEW...

Let me catch my breath.

How is it already October? Did we just skip over September? I'd like it back or at least an opportunity to remember if anything actually happened during it.

Oh wait, let's see. I hosted a fundraiser, ate lots of Mexican food, had some sushi, some Indian, felt ill and got better, toured the WV mountains, and then escaped to Alabama and SC for a whirlwind four days. That was September. Ok, I feel better.

I think that Cap and I might be victims of the Law of Attraction. We needed something to do? Well, for better or worse, I think we now have our fill.

Talk about "How to Not Murder Your Med Student Husband"--who???? I have a husband??? I want to murder him? WHY.

Because you are bored and separated from friends and family because of medical school. Remember?

Oh, yeah.

I think I have achieved busyness. Successfully? I will let you decide.

Hellooooo. Oysters.

Last Wednesday, I fled (as if a pack of rabid 8 year olds were after my soul, little soul suckers) the Mountain State for the intoxicating and magical Low Country. Five and a half hours, one gas stop and bathroom break later, I found myself in Columbia, SC. Well, I was close enough to my beloved coast to effectively imagine the thick and briny fragrance of rotting marsh grass. I cuddled my 9 day old nephew for a bit, read Peter Pan to the three and half year old nephew, and ate delicious enchiladas before forcing myself to close my eyes before Hannah picked me up at 9am the following morning (Thursday).

The stars of this story in our farm chic get-ups.

I was able to take the nephew to pre-school before hitting the road with my oldest bestie at 95-99 mph, speeding to Birmingham. We gabbed and yapped and chatted and laughed and listened to really good music as we raced the clock to Alabama and our $1,000 a plate dinner at 5:30 that afternoon. We thought we would be in a major time crunch with only seconds to dab mascara and don our boots and cocktail dresses.

The long white table.

Little did we know that we would be gaining an hour at the Georgia/Bama border. Score one for us! Of course, we didn't realize this lucky phenomenon until we got up to our hotel room, took one look at the clock, sighed in appreciation for timezones, and decided to go shopping.

Toasting Bessie.

Of course, none of the 20 lbs. of garments that I had trekked from WV would do. We spotted a cute boutique near our hotel, and I found the evening's attire on super markdown. Score two!

Drinks menu at Little Donkey.

Then, we decided we needed a drink, so we went to the Little Donkey and indulged in some cocktails, veggie fundido, and chips and salsa.

This table was the best idea ever.

This is when we looked at the clock and realized that our gained hour had slipped quickly away and we were on track to miss our 5:30 rendezvous. We had a fashion show at the hotel and applied the finishing touches before grabbing a cab to an urban farm on the edge of downtown Birmingham.

As we drove up, there were string lights crisscrossing above a very, very long white table, whose sparkly crystal and china place settings glinted in the setting sunlight. There was bourbon--lots and lots of bourbon--in mason jars with simple orange peels. There were hay bales covered in burlap for easy seating. There were huge Gulf shrimp, homemade sausage (that tasted like chicken bog, which my Pee Dee folks will understand), OYSTERS (those delicious little filters of the sea), pickled radishes and celery, oh, and bourbon.

Bessie.

The cocktail hour was long, ushering us into twilight and filled with bluegrass music and garden plot admiring. We plucked arugula straight from the ground and tasted its spice. We even grilled up a few peppers with permission from the plot keeper. Yum.

Then it was time for dinner and a stroll across the farm to the long, white table. It was time to toast Bessie. Bessie was the grass-fed, three-year-old cow that would become our dinner. They roasted her whole in a pit. We are very thankful for Bessie!

We sat down and were served family style. It started with grilled Red Snapper, fresh out of the Gulf the day before (OMG). Then came Bessie and field pea salad and corn relish, turnips, and okra. Finally, there was apple cake with fresh cream. It was a dreamy night under the stars, filled with delicious food and excellent company.

$250 bourbon. Yowz.

I would gladly drop everything to do it all over again. Thanks, Hannah!!

-b

Confessions Of A Mousewife

Today's post comes from a very hilarious and manly housewife, Rob Bishop.  Rob's significant other is a third year medical student.  Rob is a talented writer who has even published a book during his time as a medical student's slave (what a way to use up free time). He is the father of two loyal felines and owns a pretty nice film collection.

Hopefully, he will grace us with his writing again soon, but until then.... Check out his first guest post on the C&B Chronicles.

-Cap

                I do not have a husband in medical school. I don’t even have a husband. It’s not for a lack of trying. It’s not even because I haven’t quite found that perfect man for me. I have. But since he won’t have me, I instead settled for the silver medal of courting: a female medical student.

                That was a joke.

                She is more like the bronze medal.
               My trip to the podium is one not terribly dissimilar from that of your regular contributors to this blog save for one difference: male genitalia. Notice no use of adjectives to describe the size of the difference. Whether it is due to shame or humility is one of this entry’s eternal ambiguities.

                Way to connect with your audience, Rob.

                Skipping along the path a bit further, when confronted by others about what it is exactly that I do for a living --- and since I am apparently now an adult, the question does arise from time to time --- I answer with a simple, one word response: housewife. This retort is occasionally met with a chuckle, but more often than not, it is a much different look. One of pity.

The lovely Ms. Maroney is not impressed.

                What sort of man would openly admit to being a housewife? The short answer to the query is this—the same sort of man who habitually shaves his legs and eats ice cream by the pint.

                This isn’t going well. Better start being overly verbose. Maybe they’ll stop reading.

                The long answer is, you guessed it, longer, and likely a far more pathetic one. So I’ll spare you the details and instead you can picture John Travolta circa “Staying Alive.” Yeah. That’s the ticket, ladies.

                There is something wrong with you. Get back on track.

                Here goes nothing. Prior to the commencement of my four-year sentence as a medical school male housewife, or mousewife for short…

                I really hope no one calls me a mousewife.

                … I was a lean, tanned purveyor of manual labor, working a greenhouse for seven years. Despite the implication of working with flowers, it was the pinnacle of masculine endeavors, toiling away sowing geranium seeds and planting wave petunia hanging baskets, trimming azalea bushes and double-watering the perennials because we planted them in too damn small four-inch cups. 

                That sounded decidedly feminine. What is wrong with me? Insert something masculine so readers don’t think poorly of you.

                Professional wrestling. Scotch. Face tattoos.

                Good job. You amaze me.

                In between aiding old ladies with their picking the best celosia for the combination planters, I was tasked with hefting ninety pound bags of planting soil hundreds of yards from the retail store to the planting area. Sometimes, when college girls* were around, I’d throw a bag over each shoulder and make the lengthy trek. Again, picture Travolta circa “Staying Alive.”

This should help. Wowza!

                While the ball and chain worked her way through undergrad, and the thought of medical school was firmly entrenched as a ‘down the road’ idea, I was the breadwinner. And though the loaf was small and covered in aphids, it was mine and mine alone. And also those damn claw machines in the front of Wal-Mart. I have a problem.

                Seriously. Do you really expect anyone to respect you after this confession?

                My days as the breadwinner came to an end in the summer of 2010 when I put in my pink slip after over half a decade of service at Hurley’s Greenhouse and moved to Lewisburg.  It should be made clear that I was adamantly against the move.

Actual photo taken while loading moving truck.

                I was accustomed to hanging out at the gym with my friends in the morning, playing pick-up basketball after spending way too much time picking things up and putting them down. I was accustomed to going to work for fifty hours a week alongside my best friends, getting tan and paid at the same time. The change brought upon by the move was immense.

                I went from being the one bringing home the bacon to not only frying it in the pan but going to the store to buy it. And along with the bacon, I was tasked with shopping for everything from all the groceries to shampoo (it cleans your hair), conditioner (it conditions your hair) and deodorant (I still don’t know what this is). The shopping in Lewisburg was limited, and I became a regular at Wal-Mart to such an extreme that I not only knew the names of a wide array of the ladies at checkout, but they knew me probably better than they knew their grandchildren.

                Here is where I confess that I hate crowds. Not big crowds. Crowds in general. Because of this, for nearly eighteen months, I woke up seven days a week at 4 AM so I could both go to the gym without worry of people clogging up the free weights and hit up Wal-Mart without having to see the leprous, troll-like creatures native to the store during daytime hours.

Oddly enough, she's as smart as she is classy. Even more oddly enougher, she is unattached.

                Shouldn't you tell them that she was your prom date? Hell no.

                A few months ago, the story took another twist when we moved from the small town of Lewisburg to the city of Bridgeport, a burgeoning metropolis by comparison. This was good because it provided a much-needed change of scenery. It was bad because the crowds became much more commonplace.

                But for the second time in nearly as many years, I have adapted. Crowds remain a nuisance for me, but I am far more tolerable of them than during my youth. I do still get up early, albeit not 4 AM early. And I am home for good most days by 8 AM. Thanks to headphones at the gym, for the most part, I talk to only one person, my lady friend, during the day.

                One person and two cats! Freak.

                I buy the groceries and prepare breakfasts. I pack lunches and cook dinners. I watch six to ten hours of Major League Baseball a day from April through October, and in the hours when baseball is inactive, I watch films and read books. Sometimes, during the doldrums of winter, anywhere from four to seven movies a day or ten books in a week. Even my lady friend wonders how I do it. How I sit at home all day? How the only person I talk to face-to-face most days is her? To this question, I am completely honest with my answer.

                I spend every day with my best friend.

No, not Screech. But damn close.

   

                My best friend is someone I see every day. It's someone I couldn't live without.

                Here is where people are saying things like ‘Ahhhh’ or ‘How sweet’ or maybe even ‘Liar’.

                Time to yank the rug out, daddio.

                And here’s the rub. What I wrote is true, but it is misleading. I spend every day with my best friend. And even better, I spend all day with him too. I love him. I love me. Conceited? Good lord, yes. But the truth is the truth.

                So, as my bronze medal is working her way through her rotations, serving the role of being the sole source of face-to-face contact I have with the living world, I will continue to do what I do. Listening to podcasts while I wash the dishes and making trips to the grocery store in hopes of finding raspberries on sale. Driving to Target to get bags for the vacuum cleaner and spending far too much time tracking my macronutrient intake.

                She is my bronze medal, and despite my hermetic tendencies, I am dutifully filling the role of being her Trophy Mousewife.

                Way to close strong for the two people who haven’t moved on to watching videos of baby sea otters.

Cute as youngsters. Delicious as adults.

*and high school girls.   

-- r

Blogging as Inspiration

Its a weird phenomenon this whole blogging thing.

If you think about it, blogging is incredibly self-centered, narcissistic, egotistical, conceited, vain... I could keep going.

Do you disagree?

I have a point. Stick with me.

Why does one start a blog?

I am sure the majority of bloggers weren't thinking when they hit that create-a-blog button, "I am doing this because the world needs to know who I am."

So, what was their motivation?

Documentation? Chronicling life? Finding a voice?

It seems that blogs began as a forum for struggling or wanna-be writers desperate for a platform.

Today, it is something quite different.

Anyone can start a blog--with one click of a button--within five minutes, it is up and running.

Bloggers have so much power. Its kind of scary if you think about it.

Motivation seems to run the gamut. Fashion, cooking, writing, travel, boredom, art, life changes, pregnancy, children, weight loss, outlet for work stories, etc.

How many of your favorite bloggers now have books?

Cupcakes and Cashmere. DesignSponge. Dooce. Love Maegan is working on hers.

How many of them have you seen on the Today show (NieNie Dialogues) or sitting in the front rows of major fashion shows (Style Rookie) or with their own shows on Food Network (Pioneer Woman)?

Its amazing. Incredible, really.

I mean, Cap and I were contacted just the other day to pen a 3 volume how-to series on being a medical school spouse. REALLY.

I'd like to know exactly how it all started.

I wonder when it will end?

Now that Cap and I have been at this whole blog thing for just over a month, one singular thought continues to pervade my mind--a thought I hate to admit to you all, dear readers, but one that is oh so true.

My blog gave me a life. (FINALLY. I was beginning to get worried.)

Its true!

This blog has become a motivator.

Get up, it says to me on sleepy Saturday mornings.

No, seriously, GET UP. Shower. Get dressed. Now, go do something, it yells annoyingly at the top of its lungs.

YOU NEED ACTIVITY TO FEED ME. GO. LIVE. WRITE ABOUT IT ON MONDAY.

FINE, I yell back as I reluctantly pull myself off the couch and make plans.

And then, Saturday night, as W and I made our way up the winding stairs to our apartment, I felt extremely grateful for the blog and its insistence at purposeful living.

That was so much fun, I thought, recounting the day's adventures.

W and I set off on a windy road mid-morning, amidst the official dawning of Fall. The mountains have taken on a honey-colored glow, letting us all know what season has set in. I think those brief days before the leaves really begin to change are my favorite. Its like looking at the world through gold-tinted glasses--everything is warmed and crisp, fresh out of summer's oven and ready to cool off.

We met Cap and J at Hawk's Nest State Park that promised a fascinating gondola ride down the mountain. It was a bit disappointing to take in said fascinating gondola and the three minute ride down a large hill, through a pine forest. Not quite the breathtaking rock faces and churning water views we expected. We decided that we could live without it. So, puppy in tow, we headed to Fayetteville and New River Gorge Bridge. We ate huge cheeseburgers, fried pickles and fried green beans. We shopped around the Hobbit Hole. We chased puppy on the courthouse grounds. Then, we went to the gorge. (If you would like to see our adventures, visit the weekly recap.)

It was a perfectly fulfilled Saturday that made lounging around all day Sunday so much more satisfying.

So, what does this weekend hold? Let's see if I survive this first:

I get to hang out with this girl this Thursday & Friday. She is my oldest friend, who also happens to be my youngest friend. Figure that one out.

Photo from her 21st birthday party, natch.

Here is how it all went down:

"Therefore and such as," I will be driving down to SC tomorrow evening, meeting the newborn nephew for a few brief moments, and then hightailing it to Birmingham Thursday morning with her to consume lots and lots of cow.

Who drops everything at the mention of free, expensive food?

THIS GIRL.

(follow our adventures on Instagram: bri_jackson & hchap426)

-b

Homemade Laundry Powder

One of the beauties (and frustrations) of being a wife of a medical student is being broke!  Granted, I am never against having an excess of money, but I will say that living on student loans has taught me to be frugal.  VERY FRUGAL.  And for that, I am very thankful.

Also, what fun is being a newly wed if you can't yell at one another for using too much expensive toilet paper?

I have a small list of core household items that I deeply believe no one should have to buy cheap....

The expensive necessities:

Toothpaste (AIM makes me feel like I'm brushing my teeth with cardboard!)
Toilet paper  (This is self explanatory.. so I'll spare you the details.)
Fresh/healthy foods (because I believe the food we take in allows us to live longer and BETTER lives!)  I also just really like good food, and this gives me an excuse to shop in the organic section at Kroger.

... let's not forget the most important expensive necessity of ALL....

Coffee!!!

With that said, I skimp in LOTS of other areas.  Such as re-purposing left overs, remembering to freeze food, using coupons (not the crazy way), buying generic, and making my own laundry detergent!

The laundry detergent was a hard switch for me at first.  I LOVE the smell of Gain, and for a while... the smell alone was worth the $12.  Gain reminds me of my Pop's old house.  He used to have a laundry shoot in the upstairs hallway that dropped to the downstairs laundry room, and though he may not know this, as kids we would monkey ourselves up and down the shoot while dodging laundry missiles being thrown from above... all with the lovely scent of Gain in the background.

These days, my allergies and "pocket book"  (as Bri would say)  :)  can no longer handle the wonderful fragrance of Gain Original Scent.  So, I've moved on to the cheap and fragrance free stuff!  (but I still have the great memories)

Homemade laundry powder takes a little extra time to get together, but it last FOREVER!  It works great, it is hypoallergenic, and most importantly.... It is CHEAP!

Here's what you'll need:

First, Shred the entire bar of Fels-Naptha soap in a large bowl.  (I use a microplane for this)

Transfer the shredded soap into the storage container that will house your new cheap and amazing laundry soap.  :)  Add in 2 cups of Borax, 2 cups of Arm & Hammer Washing Soda, and 1/2 a cup of Arm & Hammer.  (I would suggest a full cup of the regular Arm & Hammer if you have stinky men, anatomy lab students, or well water)

Next, shake it all up!  

You will only need about 1/2 of a tablespoon for small loads, 3/4th for medium loads, and 1 tablespoon for large loads, or really soiled clothing. 

Cost breakdown:

Borax - $3.27

Arm & Hammer Washing Soda - $2.73

Arm & Hammer $2.50

Fels Naptha - $0.97

You will easily be able to get at least 2-3 uses out of each box of Arm and Hammer and your box of Borax... which will make your grand total per batch around $3.80!  For J and me, each batch lasts about 2 months, and J is a huge believer in multiple wardrobe changes a day! 

That makes lots of pocket book room for my coffee habit.  ;)

Hope you Enjoy!  Let me know if you try it out!

-Cap

Weekly Recap

This weekend I...

Celebrated J's 27th birthday!

Brought Mosley EVERYWHERE!

Got a little taste of Louisiana in Fayetteville, WV

Went sight seeing at the New River Gorge Bridge in Fayetteville, WV with Bri and W

Watched puppy take in the views

Hung out with this cool pup.  (photo courtesy of W) 

Watched this guy fish.

Waited for white water rafters to attempt the rocky streams.

Took puppy on a rocky walk.

Took our first family photo.  :)

HAPPY SUNDAY!

-Cap

This weekend I didn't do much except cook. (I also had my museum's fundraiser that I was responsible for on Tuesday night. I hope that excuses my blog absence just a bit!)

Table decor at the fundraiser.

Spicy Italian sausage and arugula over penne.

Leek risotto. YUM.

Chicken thighs in tomato gravy.

The ubiquitous margarita.

Ended the weekend and started off Fall with some sight-seeing.

 

-b