Medical School Ball

Every year, we look forward to the medical school ball. The ball always falls on the Friday that all the med students have just taken one big test or another. Yesterday, the hubbs has his neurology/ophthalmology board exam. So, he was ready to party! And so was I!

We went to the dance with another couple from the M3 class, who also happen to be some of our closest friends. We always have a blast together, and I always feel like a "med student groupie" when we all hang out. I can't tell you how to read an MRI, but I can tell you about nonrestrictive clauses! ;)

We ate at Bravo, and it was seriously delish!

And then we headed over to the dance, which was held this year at the Pleasant Valley Country Club. The hubbs and I had a good laugh that this was the location chosen since we will have gone to three events at PVCC in the last three weeks. :)

We danced our batooties off. Laughed a lot. Made fun of drunk people. And got really excited that it was our third time to go, which means that we only have one more ball left until we are Dr. and Mrs! Weird, huh!? Time seems to fly when you look back at it all!

All I Want For Christmas

This afternoon, the toddler and I sat down in the kitchen to write a letter to Santa. He was coloring in his Sesame Street Christmas coloring book, and I had a crayon out--ready to take down his requests.

"What do you want Santa to bring for you?"

Here is his list: "Cows, firetruck, car, table, chair, Bible, spoon (at this point, he was just looking around the kitchen, I think), night-night, helicopter, water, colors. Yeah."

So, there's his list, Santa! You better get to work! :)

Being Silly With Crayons

Dante Had It All Wrong

Yesterday, we were planning on going to Garvan Woodland Gardens and then out to eat. We had the entire trip planned out (a rare, rare thing for this family). We were going to arrive at the Gardens at 5:00, wrap up at 6:00, and be at dinner by 6:30.

As most of my stories go, you probably know that didn't happen.

I had only heard great things about the holiday lights display. I was very excited to go! After having now gone, I wonder what on God's green earth possesses people to return. The lights, yes, were very beautiful. But never, never, never in my entire Arkansan life have I seen that many people at something. The traffic (the line stretched 1.1 miles to get.to. the.entrance.) brought to mind images of Hades and the River Cocytus. Seriously. If Inferno were to be re-written in the 21st century, I can tell you exactly what the lowest circle of Hell would be (ironically, there would still be ice involved).

But the awful traffic aside, the lights were pretty. We froze our batooties off, but we did manage to have a good time. The toddler really enjoyed it! He got to get on the "choo-choo train!!!" and he kept saying "touch it" every time we would pass a display of lights. We had to stop a lot so he could touch the lights. :)

Oh yes, I whipped out the marshmallow North Face. It was freeeezing!

My guys on the choo-choo train!

The toddler got to ring the bell. He was in Heaven!

I love, love, love, love these guys. Really. A whole, whole, whole lot.

After we left the Gardens our car started to move at more than 2 mph, we immediately headed to a gas station. Why? Oh, because this momma forgot to pack a drink for my little one! (I know, Mom of the Year award for me.) So yes, while we were stuck in traffic (checking the GPS to see if we could take the Envoy off-roading into the pitch-black woods....I'm not kidding), the little one was screaming, "JUICE! JUICE! MILK! LAHTER (water)! JUICE! MILK! MILK! MILK!" I rummaged around the car and found some graham crackers in a Ziploc baggie from who-knows-when. Thank goodness for the person who created graham crackers. They were a total life saver. When we got to the gas station, we ran inside and bought some Cheezits for the little guy. Why we didn't think to get something for him to drink, I don't know, because...

Yes, he screamed for something to drink the.entire.way.to.Cozymel's (an hour away). To the good people of that fine restaurant: I am sorry. I am sorry for pushing past people waiting in line to request a kid's milk from the hostess. I am sorry for the fact that my son then spilled that milk everywhere (although, to be fair, the majority was all over my Coach bag, in my hair, and all over my clothes). I am sorry for the enormous mess that we left at our table. I am sorry for the fact that when we got there it was packed with people, and about halfway through our dinner we looked around to see that we were some of the only people in the entire restaurant. I am sorry that when we left, my husband and I both bearclawed the mint basket. But I am not sorry for the very big, very well-deserved tip that we left and the very big, very well-deserved margarita that I drank.

When we were driving home from Cozymel's, all three of us started bursting out laughing at the same time--swearing that Cozymel's was the greatest restaurant in the world and that we would never return for the lights display at the Gardens. "Why do we keep planning these awful trips?" I asked my husband. "I mean, we have the best of intentions. We go off on these adventures that we really do try to plan, but why oh why do we keep subjecting ourselves to this punishment?!"

My husband laughed at me, sitting there covered in milk, and said, "Because we do. And we probably still will." He paused for a moment, "And I love it."

Who Is That?

If you ask my son, "What does Santa say?" he will respond with, "Ho, ho."

It's absolutely precious. And so, I point out Santa everywhere we go. Well, one place that Santa resides is on my stocking.

Yes, there is Santa, all cross-stitched with love by my sweet momma, and hanging on my mantle.

Well yesterday, I asked my son, "Who is that?"

He thought about it; he carefully studied the face.

And then, I saw the light bulb come on, like Oh, I know who that is!

He looked up at me, with a big grin on his face, and declared loudly, "JEEESUS!!"

Before I even had time to erupt into hysterical laughter, he reiterated his point. "JEEEESUS!"

Hm. I don't know about you, but I just don't see the resemblance. :) Oh the sweet, precious things that our children do that melt our hearts and keep us laughing when we need it most!

Praise The Lord And Pass The Biscuits

source

It happened.

Finally.

Get your megaphone. Get your stadium. Get your copy of Oh, The Places You'll Go.

Tonight, I walked out of class for the last time. (Ssssshhh, no talk of an MBA or a PhD right now.)

I cannot even begin to tell you how good it felt. It's not that I don't enjoy school and classes and learning. I do. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that with a medical student spouse, a full-time job, a child, a book deal, and a house to manage, that the thought of not worrying about papers, articles, discussions, presentations, and essays makes me want to jump.for.joy. It makes me want to shout--like one of my co-workers used to when she was especially elated--"Praise the Lord and pass the biscuits!!!"

I feel like an enormous weight has been lifted--like I have (gasp! maybe?) free time (whatever the hoo-hah that is).

A few years ago, if you would have told me, "Hey! Guess what? Less than two months after you graduate, you're going get married. One month later, your husband is going to start medical school and be on his eleven-year journey to a career as a doctor. That same week that your husband begins medical school, you are going to start graduate school. And two months after that, you're going to be pregnant. Nine days after your first anniversary, you're going to give birth to a beautiful baby boy. Keep in mind, you are not taking a semester off in your Master's program during the whole baby thing."...I would have broken down weeping...OR...laughed in your face.hard...OR...tried to do the math in my head and then, probably, broken down weeping.

And yet, it's over. OVER. OVER. O-V-E-R.

(Okay, almost over. I still have to write a seventy page thesis and defend it.)

No more class. Hallelujah. I feel like my upset-to-leave-Mommy-and-Daddy five-year-old self is doing a barefooted cartwheel in the backyard. Like my bored-out-of-my-mind thirteen-year-old self is running around singing for joy. Like my get-me-out-of-here eighteen-year-old self is speeding down the interstate with the windows down.

Yep. After twenty years of school, it really does feel like that big of a deal. :)

So-Gal's Recipe: White Chocolate Christmas Cookies

I have a couple cookie exchanges coming up, so I decided to play around in the kitchen with a bunch of yummy ingredients and see what I could come up with. This recipe is perfect for cookie exchanges or for baking Christmas goodies to drop off at friends' houses. Why? Because it makes 100 cookies! (Oh yeah, and because it's delish!)

You will need:

• 1 cup of unsalted butter, softened
• 1 cup of dried Ocean Spray cherry craisins
• 12 oz. of white chocolate chips
• 3/4 cup of pecans, chopped
• 1/2 tsp. of salt
• 1 tsp. of baking soda
• 2 1/3 cups of all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 tsp. of vanilla extract
• 2 large eggs
• 2/3 cup of granulated sugar
• 2/3 cup of firmly packed dark brown sugar

1. Preheat oven to 350.

2. Combine dried cherries, chocolate chips, and pecans in a separate bowl. Set aside.

3. Beat butter and sugars in a mixer until fluffy. Add eggs and vanilla. Beat until well mixed.

4. Add salt, baking soda, and flour to butter mixture. Beat until well mixed.

5. Stir in cherry/white chocolate/pecan mixture.

6. Shape dough into 1-1 1/2 inch balls (about quarter-sized--very small). Bake for 8-10 minutes. Place on wire racks to cool.

Our Christmas Tree

Yesterday, we went on a quest in search for the perfect tree for our little living room.

First, we overslept (happy happy, joy joy!) and had to rush, rush, rush out the door. Poor little dude was still pretty sleepy when we buckled him into his carseat.

We soon realized that our tumblies were rumbly, and so we stopped for...what else? Doughnuts.

DISCLAIMER: We do not discriminate between Shipley's and Krispy Kreme. We love them both. The deciding factor is always which one is closer. :)

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the Christmas tree farm. We quickly began our search for the perfect tree!

Dragging Bear-Bear in the dirt, of course...

And looking positively adorable, of course!

The toddler then realized that his tumbly was rumbly, so he took a "gode-feesh" (goldfish) break.

Feeling energized from his snack, he decided to take matters into his own hands, and so he marched off (determined, mind you) to find our perfect tree.

And we got our Christmas tree! We found a Fraser fir, just like last year. They're my favorite kind of Christmas tree! We loaded it into the bed of the hubby's truck (thank God I married a country boy); and after visiting the petting zoo and drinking some hot cocoa, we were off!

We haven't named our tree yet (a tradition in our household), but doesn't she look pretty? :)

Talking Into The Calculator

We recently bought the toddler his own "cell phone." In fact, we went ahead and got two for him. Are we the coolest parents, or what? ;)

Heavy Skillets and Cloud Gazing

Have I ever mentioned that Thanksgiving is my gosh-darn-really-truly-seriously favorite holiday?

Well, it is.

I'm not sure why. Maybe it's that it's a holiday that centers on cooking and eating. Two of my hobbies. Maybe it brings less stress than the gifts/tree/decorations/traveling/traditions of Christmas. Maybe it's that one of my all-time greatest memories from growing up was cooking with my mother all day long on Thanksgiving.

Whatever the reason, I cherish the day--even when it starts really, really early.

Like, my day may or may not start at 5:00 AM, with the cheesecake in the oven by 6:00. Yeah.



When you cook as many things as we do, you know exactly what it's like to have a 14-hour cooking day. Exhausting. Exhilarating. (Only fuels my dream of one day being Paula Deen--love you, Paula!!) Needless to say, when you've been on your feet for that long, your back starts to hurt. And when you peel off your apron and plop down in your chair, you're not quite sure whether to devour the food or to let the food devour you as you crash face-first into your plate.

It's not just about the food at our house, though--it's about the laughter and memories that fill the kitchen all morning, all afternoon, and (nearly) all evening.

Like dancing in the kitchen at 10:00 AM with my momma to Rihanna singing on some ridiculous-looking float.

Or like bursting out laughing after my mom helped me flip my pineapple upside down carrot cake--not an easy feat with a cast-iron skillet that Tony Horton would have trouble lifting (P90X reference, any takers?).

Or like making my eggnog pound cake--AKA the most boring dessert ever--because it's my hubby's fave. He gushes over it like I spent all day slaving over every single delicious ingredient.

Or like my poor father going to three different stores to find Pillsbury Big and Buttery crescent rolls, so that my siblings could enjoy one of their favorite holiday menu items:

Or like taking sips of the ginger-pear sparkle (AKA--should we just serve this in shot glasses?) all day to "make sure it isn't freezing."

Or like tossing marshmallows into each other's mouths over and over and over to see who can catch the most.

Or like deciding with your siblings that Tom Turkey is going to have four middle names this year--one middle name decided by each sibling. I have to say, Tom Frederick Gobble Guapo Lurkey Turkey was super delish.

Or like slaving away over my very first cheesecake only to have my mom and dad praise it to the point that we just about called in the Southern Living kitchen staff for bragging rights.

Or like arguing with my mother over which is more Southern: "Stuffing" or "dressing"?

That's it.

That's why Thanksgiving is my favorite.

Because no matter how old you are or where you are in life (on happy times, hard times, or somewhere in between), we get a day to reflect and to be thankful. A day uncluttered with things, and so very, very cluttered with people.

Having my son running circles around the table, playing hide and seek, and throwing his turkey all around his high chair of course made the evening. What a blessed time to pause and reflect, to sit back and enjoy. Although my lethargy was palpable by the time we all actually sat down to eat, nothing could have been more precious than seeing my family around me, holding hands, talking, remembering when such-and-such happened.

And Black Friday?

Bleh.

I'm scared of getting shot/pepper sprayed/trampled to death in an attempt to purchase something that can definitely wait 24 hours.

I'm much more into cloud gazing. And family hikes.