Thursday, June 14, 2012

Dogs will tell you things in ways only they can.

I think things like this happening to me are the universe's way of saying "Your life is not interesting enough for a blog, so here you go."

Way before I began this blog and my journey of making and creating, my very first creative project was this beautiful and functional jewellery organizer.

I love my organizer much more than my previous one (which was a shoebox) as it so beautifully displayed everything without tangles or messes. 

I should say, I loved this organizer.

Today my PIC and I spent a good chunk of our day studying for our exams tomorrow at the small coffee shop in town, which happens to be one of two coffee shops. Once we finished studying, we decided we would have dinner together and so down I went with my pot of pasta and box of 6 remaining Oreos, oh, about an hour or two ago.

Now since moving to Small Town, my beloved organizer was left lying on the bedroom floor as I am "not allowed" to put nails in the walls.  Typically, I leave all the doors to the rooms with carpet closed while I'm away to prevent fur and whatnot from being in those rooms. 

This time, I apparently forgot to close my bedroom door.

I'll just get right to the punchline:

Do you see what I see?

Just in case you don't see it, here's a closer view.

What's brown and stinky and is NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY JEWELLERY RACK?

At this point in time, I'd like to thank my two furry devil children for whoever deposited this little gem onto my beloved jewellery organizer and sealed its fate.

I have an idea of which furchild it was, but the other must've been an accomplice to the plan, and so I'm mad at them both for right now. 

Must be their way of telling me they really don't like to be left up here while I'm happily dining with my PIC downstairs.

So, the last 40 minutes or so were spent trying to both clean and detangle the majority of my necklaces and earrings that were fouled by this act of rebellion.

No big deal. Nothing I was really going to do anyways. Humph.

A latte irritation,


Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Butter knife = screw driver

Also, unrelated to this post.
I am well aware of the fact that neither the following blog post, nor the activities described herein constitute studying in any way. (But in my defense, I really hate studying and spent much of the afternoon studying already (minus that hour I spent napping)).

I have made something that is both budget friendly, practical and helps you have nice hair!

Bottom line -I have made something! YAY!

I have heard more and more about these "curling wands" girls are using lately. I really have no idea how they are different from curling irons or if it even makes a difference, but naturally, I want one.

However, due to the strict (and I mean really strict) budget The Mr. and I are currently trying to maintain, a $150 new curling wand just didn't quite make the cut.

Ingenuity is the sister of budgeting however (haha, whatever that's supposed to mean).

I just happened to have this lowly little curling iron lying around, not doing a whole lot of anything. 

Mission: remove top holder thingy that holds the hair down. 

Voila, DIY curling wand!

Let's get started.

First problem I encountered is the fact that I have yet to acquire my own set of handy screwdrivers (I'm sure you're surprised), and this house seems completely devoid of such tools. 

So, what is a girl to do without a screwdriver or a Husband around?

Be creative of course!

Well, the big screws holding on the holder thingy came off easy enough with the infamous butter knife, in my opinion, an invaluable tool and the woman's universal screwdriver (Phillips? Flat head? Allen key? Who the heck is Allen anyways? Bah! Let's not get bogged down in the details!)

Next step was removal of the spring. This apparatus had a smaller, less accessible screw attaching it, so on went the hunt for an even more appropriate tool to remove said screw. However this time, despite my thorough hunt through the house for any object/utensil/tool/bobby pin/earring/steak knife/hemostats/scissors/tweezers, the spring remains.

You may have won the battle spring, but you won't win the war. Wait until I get The Mr. out here with a real screw driver. Then we'll see who's boss.

Again, let's not get bogged down in the details.

Of course, I needed to test out my new tool immediately, with or without the presence of the pesky spring. 

Yes, I am aware that not only am I supposed to be studying, but I have absolutely no need to have beautiful curly hair for either tonight or tomorrow because I have the day off (to do the same thing I've successfully avoided tonight, which is study). 

But who really needs a reason to have pretty hair anyways? Besides, this is a new innovation and who knows how it will turn out!

The first challenge to using the curling wand was learning how the heck to even curl the hair. Once I got into a rhythm however, it didn't take long until my hair was all curled :)

The pictures I've included are to give you an idea of what the curls look like, and I am very aware that these are not the greatest pictures ever. You try taking photos of the back of your own head. 

I like it! 
There are a few caveats to using this method of hair curling:

1. You are more likely to burn your fingers multiple times as you have to wrap your hair around the barrel and then hold it still while it curls. Maybe this is not how you're actually supposed to do it, but this is how I did, and I have the burned finger tips to prove it.

2. You have less control over how the curls will turn out, which is both more fun and challenging. If you're looking for a picture perfect head of curls, use a normal curling iron. But if you're happy with a more loose and less organized 'do, I think this might work for you.

Ahh, I can feel my creative insides loosen and breathe. Go ahead and try it out!

(I wish I could take credit for this idea, but I'm not a thief and so will direct you to this wonderful beauty blog I've recently found - This blog is done by three ladies, one of whom is Lauren Conrad, and they share all sorts of good hair and makeup ideas.) 

Oh, and by the way - LETTY IS ALIVE!
I am very happy to report that our dear lettuce is alive and thriving once again. A few days of watering and he's perked back up. Ok, Letty, I take back all those mean things I said about you being weak and I'm so happy you're growing again. YAY LETTY.

Well, now that my hair is curled and I've blogged and wasted sufficient time, I'm certain I'll be more productive now and will start studying.

Maybe with a latte.

Heck, what am I saying, of course with a latte.

More on baby birds and Ultimate Frisbee to come!

A latte love,


Sunday, June 10, 2012

We are still pretty far from the homestretch.

Guess which one is me in this metaphor.
No, it's not the horse.
I have just returned from my weekend rendevous with The Mr. in The Big City. This is getting to be very emotionally trying for me - living out of a suitcase in your own home, packing up every weekend and driving the hour and a quarter just so my family can be together. If it wasn't for The Mr., my rock in this ocean of life, I'd be falling right apart. He's pretty amazing, and I'm not always the easiest to love.

I'm in a Vanilla Mint sort of mood, so I've made a cuppa tea and decided I would take this time (when I should be doing oh, a host of other important things) to write a new, hopefully entertaining blog post (you're welcome). 

Sorry for the dreary start.  

But, the most upsetting thing has happened (OK, maybe just unfortunate).

It's about Letty.

You know, my lettuce. My one and only lettuce.

Recall back one blog post when I introduced you to Letty. Shortly afterwards, The Mr. made clear, "And just so you know, we are going to eat that lettuce." I think that put the fear of God right into Letty, and he cracked under the pressure.

Here's how it went down.

Despite me giving Letty a good pep talk about being responsible over the weekend and taking care of itself prior to my departure to the Big City on Thursday evening, Letty is either playing dead, sleeping or thought he'd remind me how much I suck at taking care of plants (and really kicked the bucket).

Come on, Letty, buck up. You can't handle a mere three days without water? What kind of lettuce are you. Life is hard, you're supposed to just get used to it.

I think it's just sleeping.
As you can see, the herbs seemed unfazed by their mini-drought. Can't say the same thing for Letty. Pfft.

Alas, I think we may have lost Letty. I'm not calling a "code" yet, but we might need some serious resuscitation over here. I will update on his status in the coming days, and your patience is appreciated in this difficult time.

What else is happening these days. Between an Emergency Medicine exam on Friday, a Family Medicine exam in two weeks and somewhere in there finishing and presenting a research project on community initiatives to decrease adolescent suicide in Small Town, working/supposedly learning every day,  and trying to stay fit by evading zombie mobs (I'll get to it), my days and nights are pretty chalk full. 

All I want to do is sew something, damn it. A tea cozy. An apron. SOMETHING. I feel like my creative insides are curling up and dying. For now, I satisfy myself by scouring cute projects on Pinterest and making a list for that long awaited "When I have time to do anything besides being a medical student and sleeping" period. 

I can somewhat see the light at the end of the tunnel however, and it's in the form of our Europe Trip. We started mapping out the exact locations that we have decided to visit while abroad and it's becoming more and more real. We even have a map up on the dining room wall with little pins marking our route to serve as a reminder that there is more to life than medicine (at least that's what it serves for me). Oh, what fun it will be!

And just think, by then if all goes as planned, I'll have an MD behind my name. Yet, for some reason, I can't seem to think that those letters will make me any more knowledgeable or less petrified about being a doctor. In fact, come residency, despite being called a "resident," let's face it -  I'll really still be a clerk, who just got back from a 6 week European vacation. Frightening, isn't it?

We helped the Oh/Cho family move into a nice new apartment this weekend as well, and concluded Saturday night playing a good ol' fashioned game of Spoons. Mix in a few wobbly pops and cut to myself lying across the living room table wrestling The Mr. for the last spoon, all four of us laughing so hard that I'm both hiccuping and burping (it happens only when I laugh really hard). Ah, I needed that. My abs hurt and my head was screaming this morning, but what a good night.

For those of you who have no idea what "Spoons" is, oh come on. Google.

I must share one of my new favourite things in life. Which considering running is involved, that's saying a lot. It's not that I hate running, I'm just not very good at it. You know? You hear all those real runners, "Oh when I get to 7km, that's when I really start to get into it." No, I'm the, "Oh, when I get to 7km, I'm not even running anymore because I was dying and stopped 5km ago." Get the picture?

So what luck I am told about this amazing running app (yes, there's even an app for getting my ass running) called Zombies, Run! I normally do not shamelessly plug things on my blog because I believe my readers able to make good choices for their lives without me telling them what to do, but this is a good one. You gotta try this. It's $7.99 from the App store, which is steep, but I'm telling you it's worth it. Although I am too lazy to describe it right now but you have to try it. 

Ok fine, it's called an "ultra-immersive" running game played through your iPhone headphones where you're in a post-apocalyptic Zombie infested world where the only way to escape the zombies is to run. You're "Runner 5" on various missions from Abel Township, a small clump of survivors in the middle of nowhere, and they give you directions through your headphones. A quite elaborate and well designed story unfolds between the songs on a playlist of your own choosing (your own music). The zombies even chase you and you have to speed up otherwise they eat you, or something. I've only gotten caught once and just dropped the supplies I had been "carrying" (see, ultra immersive) to distract them. Aren't I smart?

Ok, the game does that for you, but just try it. I don't recommend many things so this has got to be good. If you like running or not, even if you can't run, you can walk and still evade the zombies. Your zombies are just really slow ones in that case, I guess. So far I've evaded 2 zombie mobs and have come out unscathed. Impressive. Even Destructo likes it, although being the laziest Border Collie we know (which we tell him frequently), he doesn't like running for very long (maybe it "runs" in the family...womp womp). 

As an aside, I just spent the better part of 15 minutes trying to take a picture of an INCHWORM that just crawled across the table. Which begs the question, how the heck does an inchworm get all the way up on the table! Well, quite obviously, it inches it's way, but wow, talk about motivation.

Puts me, my attempts at running, and Letty to shame.

Alas, here's the product of my efforts. Meet Inchie. 
Ya that's right, I'm a bad ass inchworm.
Be jealous of me.
Then I spent a good 5 minutes trying to coax this little feller onto a sticky note so that he could be safely transported to the back porch and out into the wilderness. Of course, I happened to be seen doing this selfless act by the husband of my Partner In Crime, who now most certainly thinks I'm even more crazy than he already knew I was. Save Inchie, look like a lunatic. I just can't win. 

Maybe I should've taken The Mr.'s advice via text message after hearing about Inchie, and "Keel heeeeem." But I'm a lover, not a fighter. 

Maybe I should've taken Inchie as a pet, because inchworms have got to be more hardy than lettuces. His name is Inchie and he will be mine. He will be my Inchie. 

Maybe the inchworm was a metaphor for my life. This is about to get real deep.

Maybe, because inchworms turn into butterflies (OK, moths - but I really hate  moths), this little incher crawling across my table is the universe reminding me that I will, eventually, metamorphasize into a person who feels like they actually know what they're doing, but first I have to just inch my way along these huge obstacles. The inchworm doesn't go far each step, but it sure can cover lots of ground with lots of determination.

Shit, I should write hallmark cards or motivational speeches or something.

Well, I think that's about enough for tonight. I feel better already, maybe its the lifesaving heroics of the inchworm, maybe it's the Vanilla Mint tea. I'd have to say it's probably the blogging too - it's one of my coping mechanisms, I told The Mr. earlier. 

It seems that when you sarcastically evaluate the happenings of your own life, you realize that nothing is really as big of a deal as you are making it out to be.

I could be on to something here.

A latte love,


Monday, June 4, 2012

I can't think of anything creative to call this blog post.

Har har har - pardon the curse word.
I have a few important things coming up in the forms of exams and projects, but when I get home from working all day in clinic (and even more so after the ER), I really don't feel like studying right away.

So why not take this time to write another blog post? Good idea!

Miss. Thing and I are currently in a fight due to her tendency towards insisting on waking me up at 4am to go outside. While I would normally forgive her for this because she may need to pee, I cannot understand how she believes it's OK to wake me at 4am to EAT GRASS.
Pretty much sums it up.
This may bring to mind an image of me, half asleep in my housecoat, with flip flops, out in the back yard with a tiny dim flashlight, praying no cougars/meese/deer/raccoons/bears/insert animal(s) are nearby to eat my dear Princess, cursing at Miss. Thing in a hushed angry voice, saying something along the lines of "Are you KIDDING me right now? Get inside!" between muffled grumbles and scoffs.

Well, much to your entertainment, that image would be pretty accurate. 

Furthermore, she has declared both of my pillows hers and decides right before we go to sleep is when she would like to bring every single one of her babies into the bedroom and have a crocodile-death-roll style battle on the bed. 

Isn't. she. cute. 
We're gonna have a talk about her attitude, her and I.

I forgot to update that I've also become a gardener in the past few weeks. Or at least, I have become someone who can grow things in pots. This is a revelation for me, considering my experience with growing things has most often resulted in pots of dead things lying around my house, with a grumbling Mr shaking his head and green thumb at me.

Let's face it, I only keep things alive that can actually make noise and remind me they exist. Hence, dogs. (And a Husband, I suppose). 

I digress.
(You're surprised?)

So I've been growing a butter lettuce, some rosemary and some parsley. And I suppose an orchid, but I can't keep those damn things alive no matter what I do (hardy, my ass).
Wow, that's a beautiful lettuce.

Rose and Ley.
I'm having no trouble picking little pieces off of both Rose and Ley in my cooking, and they make the meals sooo aromatic. 

The lettuce, dubbed Letty, however, is another story.
How do people raise pigs or chickens or cows and then EAT THEM? I have become so close with my Letty, the very thought of eating it brings me sadness. 
The Mr. assures me that it will be delicious, but all I can think of is the hours (OK, minutes) I've spent caring and loving (read: watering every third day) and the relationship we have, Letty and I. 

And when does one know that it is time to cut the lettuce and turn it into just one salad to be enjoyed at just one meal? It's utter madness, if you ask me.

Alright, I'm successfully on Oreo number three and the dogs are staring at me. I'm sure they're thinking, "Not another night on the computer. Boring." 
Which unfortunately, it might be. My nights are about as exciting as a load of laundry, and in fact, that's usually what I'm doing each night considering how much the Mr. accumulates over one week. Yeesh, I think he makes more laundry than I do.

I don't feel I've adequately discussed my recent time in the ER though, and so I thought I would share my increasingly cynical (and potentially offensive, haha) thoughts on the subject. 

Here's a few things the emergency room is NOT:
1. A "quicker" version of a walk-in clinic for your birth control refill or sore throat
2. A surgical-referral-providing service for your chronic hernia that has been "bothering" you by "coming out"
3. A place to ask for an MRI for your chronic back pain
4. A place to go when you're drunk and feel like being an idiot to the staff

This list could go on forever.

I have considered beginning each encounter with:
"Hi, I'm your emergency room student physician. What is your emergency today?"
But, I thought that maybe it might come off a bit harsh?

However, the oddity of presentations in the emergency room is quite entertaining at times, so I'll share a few of the choice examples from my experience:
- Man presenting with 30 years of chronic back pain who "cannot wait any more!"
- Presenting after a loud noise at work "really got to him"
- Three days after "a bug flew into my ear" and could we please look in the ear?

And probably the best so far, brought to you by your ever-sarcastic clinical clerk host:
- Three day history of diarrhea and vomiting after kissing 20 horses and one dog who also had diarrhea (yes, this happened) 

So keep in mind, fellow citizens, when you next choose to utilize your emergency room at your local hospital (to which you are totally entitled), do us all a favor and consider, "is this really an emergency?"

And for those of you thinking, "She's so cranky and bitter about the ER," it may sound that way. But in all reality, I do love working ER, and if it weren't for those somewhat silly presentations at 2am, I would only maybe get more sleep. No big deal really.

Haha, kidding. I do love it. Honest.

Alright, enough about that. Venting complete. 
On a lighter note, the photoshoot with the fam-damily went really really great on Saturday. The photographer was very sweet and funny, and the dogs felt right at home with her playing Jack Johnson on her iPhone during the shoot. They all smiled and sat nicely and I'm sure we're going to have great photos :)

The rest of this weekend was equally as nice, and twice as relaxing as the weekends in past have been. We had a nice afternoon on Saturday drinking and sunning on our balcony, had some friends over that evening for drinks and snacks, and settled into bed at a decent hour. Sunday we went on a nice bike ride, which was actually pretty hard work with all those hills, even my teeth were tired afterwards.  

I mean to keep mentioning that I've realized that clerkship does not equal crafting, sewing or doing any fun creative pursuits. This saddens me, and makes my inner creative monster sad. My sewing machine sits sadly in the office, all alone and waiting to be used. I keep telling myself I'll get to it, but between everything I'm doing and sleeping, it just hasn't made the cut so far.

Hence, there are no crafts discussed on the blog for the past few weeks. Hopefully, I'll get some time to do something creative soon, and then I'll return to our regularly scheduled programming of clerkship, canines AND crafts.  

However, I seriously suppose I should get something productive done this evening, and so away I go into the world of real responsibilities.

Until next time.

A latte love,