anna in med school

We’re bringing it back.

In Boston, even though we were living with each other, we found that we rarely had the chance to have dinner together, just the two of us, unless we were really proactive about making the time, actually scheduling a dinner together each week.  (Between his crazy resident’s schedule and my two jobs, we joked about how much google docs and calendars have been crucial components of our relationship.  Hell, I’m not sure we would have even made it to the altar at the same time if it wasn’t for that nebulous, omnipresent entity that is google.  Shhoooooot!)

This week we had dinner at this tasty little byob near my old stomping grounds in Philly.  Wonderful food.  The BEST company.  And the meal was a gift from our former landlady in Boston!  She sent us a gift certificate when she returned our deposit.  Can you believe it?  Clearly she’s the sweetest woman alive and/or my hubby is quite the charmer.

All the cuteness, none of the responsibility.

Using them to coerce my big brother…

I think my favorite part is around second 46 when my nephew gives Steph a sneaky sideways glance.

Also, I sound like a toad.  Too much family/friends/fun = tuckered out aunt anna.

Such a bizarre-o name for such a surreal, albeit a little preppy, place.

I’ve always had a thing for tree-tunneled streets.  “You know what the best part is?” Steph said.  “No cars in sight!”

Within minutes of finishing our GI exam, my classmates started posting on facebook/gchat/twitter: “One fourth an MD”; “Year one of med school–check”; “Officially an MS2!”  They were all right, I’m sure.  Still, I’m with Toby, who would not allow a single drop of champagne to be drunk until the presidential appointee for the Supreme Court received 51 yea votes.  I believe in a thing called “tempting fate.”

So, for me, I didn’t officially become an MS2 until this past Friday, when I received my grade memo.  I know it’s only supposed to get harder and all, but I can’t help but feel oddly optimistic, like I can actually do this whole med school thing.  Plus, doesn’t “MS2” just sound so much more legit than “MS1”?  Like I actually belong here and might turn into a doctor one day…

is the pain index of the following morning’s run.  And this morning’s was bad, really really bad.  In the 100-degree heat, something gross was definitely still slushing around in my stomach.  I was sweating vodka and burping peanut butter and funfetti icing (Alex, what did we do/consume last night???!).

How does that saying go?  Why do I keep banging my head against a wall?  Because it feels so good when I stop.

John, Stephie, Ben, and I spent eight and a half hours in an overly packed Acura to get down to the Corolla, NC this Saturday.  Beach week is the best week of the year, and this year marks the 10th year the Y’s & HMC have been gathering together, huddled cozily in one house, playing Kings and High Tide, making stupid-ass decisions (licking the electric cold tub of death…shooting Campari…), and simply reconnecting after a year spent separated by states, oceans, and continents.

This year we have 30 (thirty) people making appearances at beach week.  I love us.

But I am not very good at demonstrating love after eight and a half hours in traffic.  So I said hello to the people who had arrived, darted into an empty bedroom and proceeded to sleep for 17 hours.  No joke.  Whoever said you can’t make up for lost sleep was seriously delusional because, apart from feeling guilty for being horribly antisocial, I feel 10,000x better.

Officially recovered from year 1 of med school.

Every now and again I actually venture outside my med school cocoon and meet new and interesting people who, while I mean no offense to my peers, bring fresh air into our circles.  It’s pretty great to get out of the med rut we so easily fall into, even if it’s simply reminiscing about the last adorably ridiculous comment Faust made during review (“Red’s my favorite color, but not when it’s coming out of someone’s mouth or butt.”).  When we meet individuals who meet or exceed our level of passion, but within a forum that is so not like med school–say, a professor and artist–we’ve hit the jackpot.

Meet Jeremy Waltman.

He’s going with my beautiful poet-med student friend Lauren.  Caroline, Eric, and I were fortunate enough to get to tag along with her for the opening of his most recent and ongoing exhibition When She Strikes, a collaborative installation by Jeremy and Matt Miley that comprises two wall-sized drawings, video, and sound.  Appropriate for the name, their work is certainly striking, to say the very least, a multimedia depiction of impact and damage.  The exhibition is free and open to the public at La Salle University until August 11th.  See it.

This project occupies an entire room.  Matt said that he built expandable sliding walls at his place in Brooklyn in order to provide the room to work.  Can you imagine?  I get overwhelmed trying to sew together patches for a quilt or crochet anything larger than a scarf.  I’m not sure I ever considered the confines of physical space on a visual artist…how did they even transport the project?

Eunee and Ryan were married on June 25th at the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art (and yes, that’s the guy who wrote and illustrated The Very Hungry Caterpillar and other children’s classics).  The setting was especially appropriate given the occurrences (mostly meteorological) surrounding the wedding that, like their relationship, was the stuff of storybooks.  Ominous storm clouds rolled in just fifteen minutes before the outdoor ceremony, but the couple decided to risk it.  Everyone was seated, the string quartet was playing, and the bridesmaids had made their way down the aisle when the rain began to pour, but only for long enough to get all the guests inside.

A few minutes later, we tried again.  Halfway into Ryan’s original vows (which he had completely memorized…until the last line–adorable!), it began to drizzle again.  As the celebrant suggested that we continue the ceremony inside, a soft chant was already building among the guests: “Tough it out!  Tough it out!”  And they did.  About five minutes following, I was just getting my first cocktail and I turned around to see a full-out thunderstorm through the floor to ceiling windows, proceeded by a double rainbow.

It was wonderful to reconnect with some of my Goucher (post-bacc) girls, who are all kicking butt and taking names at their respective med schools around the country.  Eunee and I actually became much closer friends when we lived in Boston together following post-bacc, having both moved to the city in order to be with our significant others.  She was always such a warm, spirited soul to be around, with fantastic taste in restaurants and desserts (she was so good to me, she called ahead to flour bakery to reserve my introductory sticky bun).  We met up for lunch on her birthday that year and she asked me whether or not I was planning to take John’s name when we got married.  “I don’t know.  What do you think?  Would you take Ryan’s name?”  “Well, that’s a somewhat…unique situation.  You see, ‘Park’ is a very common Korean last name.”  At least they don’t have to deal with social security.

As read and presented with illustrations) at their wedding (an excerpt by Sandra Boynton’s Your Personal Penguin):

I like you a lot.  You’re funny and kind.  So let me explain.  What I have in mind.  I want to be your personal penguin.  I want to walk right by your side.  I want to be your personal penguin.  I want to travel with you far an wide.

Sickeningly cute and totally appropriate.

I hope it’s obvious that I don’t treat this blog as a diary.  Then again, I never kept a diary, so maybe it’s a poor point of contrast.  Bottom line, I don’t give all the boring details of every passing minute, or even an account of all the most important happenings to me.  I’ve come to simply write exactly what I feel/think when I have the chance to do so.

Still, after not writing for a while, I always kind of dread getting back into it.  The last two weeks since the last exam have been jam-packed with good, sometimes tedious, always energy-consuming stuff.  They’ve been wonderful and celebratory in large part, but I am so looking forward to our real vacation, which starts Saturday!

So I thought I’d start with a brief picture show of the most time-consuming/rewarding project of the last two weeks: recombining John and my homes into one.

Final moments in my sunny apartment at 912 Pine, yards away from the Italian Market, right in the thick of things:

A few details of our new home…one of my mothers-in-law bought us our first new-home plant (we could not have done the move without her and her husband–huge thanks!)…

Quickly becoming one of my favorite spaces in the house (granted, we haven’t finished with the study yet…we have a study!):

We were able to coerce Jon and Jamie to celebrate the 4th with us in the ‘burbs.  We love their company, but we also love that their coming over served as a great impetus to get our butts in gear and make the place (at least the downstairs) look habitable.  I made them take a picture of me and Jamie, mostly because I was pleased that I unknowingly dressed Independence Day-appropriate (I don’t think I’ve done that since I was eleven), and it’s always nice to be in pictures with beautiful women:

Poor John has received an earful of annoying laments about missing the city.  I loved living in the city, for sure, but the suburbs has its perks, first and foremost John (and space and doors that close).  This will be a good place for us.

Of course the suburbs also has its oddities/steriotypes.  I met a neighbor while out exploring and he asked, “So, how many kids do you two have?”  <llllllllllllllllllllll…>  I don’t see us throwing back a few on his porch any time soon.

Okay, now I’m excited.

(Apologies for the radio silence of late.  It’s been an…unconventional week.)

Last night we had our first rehearsal with the guest conductor for tonight’s concert.  I don’t think I’ve had so much fun at rehearsal in, I don’t know, 5+ years?  That crazy, dirty Costa Rican conductor!

I need to scoot off to this morning’s rehearsal at the Mann Center, and maybe allow myself enough time to get lost on my bike…thank goodness for smart phones!  But…if you’re itching for a fun/ky outdoor concert tonight (you can bring your own booze!), you can buy $10 lawn seats here!

Also, I know I used to bitch about the TFC’s policy of memorizing EVERYTHING (oy, Mendelssohn!)–I mean, it’s kind of a party trick, yeah?–but I have never been more thankful for knowing a piece cold.  Guerrero, you want to push the tempo of “Veni, Veni, Venias” beyond the limits of sanity??  By all means.  My eyes aren’t leaving your right hand.