|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,