Archive for the ‘The Husband’ Category

I can’t hardly believe it’s been a year.

I mean, on the one hand, our wedding feels like 10 thousand years ago. Still the best day of my life, but the best day that happened eons ago. On the other hand, the idea of it having already been a full year since we exchanged vows and rings is mind boggling.

I have been running what I might say here through my mind for about a week. How can I best capture the ways I love you? How can I tell you (and the internets, because, let’s face it, you kind of married them a year ago too) how happy I am to know that we are just at the very beginning of an amazing life together?

And here’s what I came up with: You are the yin to my yang. (I’m nothing if not original.)

You are obsessive compulsive in a way that few people realize. That is, until they see our DVD collection, or look in your toolbox or your bookcase. You like order, whether it be alphabetical (DVDs), by right angles (the toolbox, garage and the moving van that was more tightly packed than 50 sardines in a thimble) or by date/age (your books, but also, those are alphabetical within the dating process. Or some other entirely complicated system I don’t understand), you love your organization.

And me? I like my chaos. I like my stuff in general areas where I can find them. I love piles and stacks. I love messes.

And over the nearly 5 years we have been together, your organization has made me crazy, just as my messes have done to you. But your organization has been useful and I’d like to think that maybe, just maybe, I’ve made you a little less crazy about order. If not, I’ll just keep moving your DVDs around when you aren’t home. Heh.

You are focused, but you are calm. You knew you wanted to be a doctor, and with that in mind, you set up a plan, took your time, and here you are, a doctor. You didn’t study every day, you didn’t lose yourself to the stress, you managed it. You formulated plans, you determined how many pages you’d read, questions you’d do and hours you’d spend on your studies. And you succeeded. You matched in the ONLY spot for child neurology at a hospital in Southern California, an accomplishment that I could not possibly be more proud of.

I, on the other hand, run wildly in circles near any objective of mine. I don’t plan very well, or sometimes I plan way TOO well, and yea, then there’s the crazy. I don’t calm down and see my goals, I just run full speed with a full head of steam.

You calm me when I need it and when I was sure I wouldn’t get accepted to any programs for this year, you reassured me and celebrated every acceptance.

You are a minimalist (well, aside from anything technology related). You weigh pros and cons before buying anything, you feel guilty as soon as you spend money and you are careful to make sure your purchases are justified. You pay close attention to your bank balance and your credit cards and you never, ever miss a payment or pay a bill late.

I’m sure you can see where this is going. I shop haphazardly. I go here and there, and I do contemplate my purchases and I do feel guilt when I overspend, but the guilt lasts about 10 nanoseconds and then it’s over. I think that the collection of 10 trillion post-its and 8 trillion sharpies would speak to my lack of sense er, minimalism.

(The very post-its and sharpies that were all over our house today spelling out Happy Anniversary in a rainbow of colors and designs. But, um, I still can’t find the other N and I’ve been looking for 7 hours. I’ll bet 10 dollars that you’ll walk in and find it within 20 seconds. A perfect reason why I need you in my life.

Update: I never found it. He came in the door with a bouquet of beautiful purple flowers with a card that just said “N”. Wily minx.)

Our spending neuroses keep us economically safe (okay, as safe as any family with almost 300k in student loans can be) and allow us to live comfortably, but also sanely. Or close, at least.

There are a multitude more examples of our fitting together that could fill up this whole blog.

You drink coffee, I drink tea.

You each cheeseburgers, I eat hamburgers.

You like mayo, I like mustard.

You like horror movies, I like chick flicks.

You could spend hours playing video games, I can spend hours reading (not that I don’t play video games, but, you know…)

I think it’s these differences that pull us together. We temper each other through good and bad, we find the balance that pulls us both from our extreme poles and into a normal level of care, concern or interest. Simply put, we make each other less crazy. Most of the time.

This year has not been a simple one. There have been trials, there have been fights, there have been big fights. There have been rough days and weeks and surely there will be more. There has been stress and trepidation, there have been victories and tears of joy. But there’s just no one I’d rather fight with, obsess with, calm down, boost up, compliment, constructively (heh) criticize, celebrate with and of course, love with every fiber of my being than you.

Happy Anniversary babe. 1 down, a lifetime to go.

So, about a month ago, Slappy and I were changing the sheets on our bed and Slappy put our cat, Karma, into a pillowcase. For whatever reason, I decided to videotape this endeavor.

When I watched this video last week after uploading it, I could not help but share this gem with the internets. Because, not only is it a video about our cat, but it is a true glimpse into our lives.

Things you should know before watching this:
a) I am a HORRIBLE photographer. And therefore, there’s like nothing to see. It’s really and audio glimpse into our lives.
b) I mumble. A lot. Turn your speakers up.
c) He did hit me. But not hard.
d) At the time, everything that came out of our dryer smelled…musty. Or sweaty. And frankly, a little like balls. Which is a horrible image, I know, but it did. And hence my comment and then Slappy’s signature song.
e) He’s not my mother.

Enjoy!

Cat in a pillowcase…and balls from Overflowing Brain on Vimeo.

Tomorrow afternoon, I will be married to a doctor.

That is, tomorrow, my husband will be “hooded”, will walk across the stand and will hence forth be Slappy, M.D.

Be impressed.

No seriously, be impressed.

I’m calling all visitors, anonymous or frequent commenters, I need you all to give the man a round of applause (and by round of applause I mean nice comment). These have been some of the most challenging years of both of our lives and this graduation is HUGE moment. Tomorrow, Slappy gets to see one of his dreams come to life, tomorrow his hard work is finally celebrated.

My very own doctor. The irony is never ending.

Congratulations honey. I love you and am SO proud of you.

Today, my husband finished Medical School.

Give the man a hand. It’s been a loooooooooooooong 4 years.

(By Slappy, in case that wasn’t evident)

So I’m not so sure if a heartfelt thanks and a picture of my mug is that terrific of a surprise, but that is what you get.

I wanted to take this opportunity to thank the readers of this blog, from the bottom of my heart, for all the support they gave me in my St. Baldrick’s fundraiser.

Through primarily this group of great people, I managed to raise $750 for pediatric cancer research. I have never been a part of a fundraiser before, have never asked anybody for donations for any effort before, but I thought this was a terrific cause that I could not look away from. All that the St. Baldrick’s foundation asked of me was my hair.

I had it easy.

But donating my hair had absolutely nothing to do with the quest to extend a child’s life and happiness. My part was simple, but yours was the more challenging. You had to give up your money. And in a time where money is more and more an extension of one’s happiness, and in a time when money is more and more scarce, you selflessly donated to enrich the lives of others, to give others the chance to be happy.

And it goes without saying, but it’s not just the children who are affected by cancer, but parents, and families, and friends, and their doctors, too.

So, although I cannot show you a picture of a kid cured because of the advancements in medical science made possible by your donations, I can show you my effort to act in solidarity with those undergoing cancer treatment. And my act is solely a physical reflection of your incredible acts of kindness.

So again, from the depths of everything I hold dear, I say thank you.

Slappy.

And now the pictures. (The captions are all crafted by his less profound but far wittier wife…)

The Official Shirt

Before:

(The bruise is courtesy of me solidly kicking his ass at racquetball 2 times the previous weekend. It’s all about the diving…)

During:
(Has anyone ever looked happier to be shaving their head?)

(ahahahahahaha)

(Having a Shamrock spray painted onto his head. Only she used too much spray and instead he looked a little like his head was molding…)

After:

Pretty good looking fella, huh?

Thanks to all. Slappy said it better than I ever could, but we are both enormously grateful for all of your support.

So I had no internet availability to get this to you sooner, but my wonderful amazing husband matched at his first choice residency program, in Southern California, this morning. If you didn’t know, California is one of the most difficult places to match period and he matched for not one, but two residencies there. Give the boy a round of applause, he most definitely deserves it.

This means, among many other things, that I get to go to the number one graduate program in the country. I still half-believe that when I contact them today to let them know that I’m coming that they’re going to tell me there’s been some mistake and I haven’t really been accepted after all, but, I mean, it’s really happening. This dream is jumping to life before my very eyes. Our hard work, especially Slappy’s in getting this amazing match, has led to a dream being realized.

I have loved living in New Orleans for the past three years, but seeing his name flash on that screen today and seeing the word “California” there and inside the envelope reaffirmed that it’s where we’re supposed to be. Just typing it right now brings tears of joy. After 3 wonderful life changing years away, we’re going home.

And there’s simply no place like it.

(p.s. Bald pictures coming tomorrow. With extra special surprise.)

(p.p.s. And by tomorrow, I obviously meant this weekend. Because whenever I promise to do something, it doesn’t seem to happen. I’m pretty sure scientists have created a whole theorem about this.)

(p.p.p.s. And the new template isn’t the surprise. But, how do you like it? Be nice because it took me about 3 hours to get it all the Spanish labels off everything and move the comments to a place where you could, you know, see them and stuff.)

This is a BIG week. Like in the weeks of life, next to the week I got married, honeymooned and the week leading up to and following the birthing of hypothetical children, this is like the biggest week ever.

Today is Black Monday. On Black Monday, all matching 4th year medical students get an email from the matching program letting them know if they matched to a residency. Not where they matched, just if they did. Black Monday is when you find out if the rest of your week will be excitingly nerve-wracking or horribly traumatic.

Slappy matched.

Out of respect for those who didn’t and are in the process of scrambling to find a residency, I’m not going to go into great details about how great it feels. (But it feels REALLY great. REEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLY great). And getting through today means we can look greatly forward to the rest of the week.

Tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day, which is inconsequential except that I have 2 exams back to back, with a short intermission of a meeting with my chemistry lab moron professor (not the same one as the Thursday night one, mind you…). I could happily take tomorrow out of this week and never remember it again. Or, you know, study for the tests instead of blogging. I’m going to let you guess which one is more likely to happen.

Anyways, back on track.

Wednesday, Slappy is shaving his head! He’s already raised $625, but the donations will remain open until Wednesday (if you want to donate, shoot me an email: overflowingbrain@blogspot.com). It’s going to be an awesome experience, with lots and lots of pictures. And baldness.

Thursday is the day. I mean, Slappy’s graduation is important. But Thursday is Match Day. It’s the day we’ve waited for for 3 and a half years.

It is when we find out where Slappy matched. When we find out where we’ll be living. When I find out where I can send a deposit and see this dream of entering graduate school materialize (though I won’t believe it until the first day of classes and even then I’m afraid they’ll find out that I’m a fraud…).

Thursday is the day Slappy’s hard work truly pays off. It’s the culmination of years of hard work and it’s huge. HUGE.

Thursday is a day for huge celebrations as well. They’ll run all day long, in true New Orleans style.

Friday is when we find a place to live, figure out moving arrangements and start packing in earnest. Friday is when it hits us that no matter where Slappy is matched, we’re moving out of this house at the end of May and we have more work ahead of us than UV rays emitted from the sun. Hopefully we’ll be doing all of this sans-hangover.

Friday is kind of the first day of the rest of everything. Friday is when we breathe our sign of relief and move forward instead of staying in this place of, where will we be? Where will we live? Where will I go to school? Do we need 2 cars or 1?

Friday is when we can start dreaming about the future. About where we’ll raise our children. About where our lives are going. Friday is the beginning of our future. And I’m just waiting for the story to unfold

I truly can’t wait to tell you all about it.

This Sunday is Slappy’s 27th (gasp!) birthday.

I know what you’re all thinking. What an old man What can WE get for him? (shut up and pretend like you were thinking that).

I have just the thing.

Each year on March 18th, people all around the country shave their heads in a wonderful fundraising campaign for childhood cancer research called St. Baldrick’s Day. This year, my husband will be one of the head shavees.

That’s right, he’s going bald (much to his mother’s dismay by the way).

St. Baldrick’s Day is much more than just head shaving, it’s a party. The children in the oncology wards often come to the event, sometimes they even get to help with the shaving (which seems really unsafe, but hey, it’s not my head) and most importantly, they forget for a while about the tragic and terrifying diseases that plague them.

You’re probably wondering what this has to do with Slappy’s birthday huh? (so technically nothing, but bear with me)

Well, he’s not just shaving his head, he’s raising money first. If he reaches his goal of $500, he will shave his head. (So technically he’s totally doing it either way, but this way makes it seem more important)

So far I am donating $105 from my tax return (So technically this is bet money that I owe him and he decided this would be a much better place for me to give it, and also? Don’t make 100 dollar bets.) and Slappy is matching it. That puts him at $210 (you’re welcome for the math).

Here’s where it all comes together. As a nice way to honor Slappy’s birth and as an even better way to donate to an incredibly crucial cause, I’m hoping some of you will be willing to contribute to his fundraising page and help him reach or exceed his goal. You don’t have to give a lot. I know we’re in a time of financial hell. Even 5 dollars helps, and there’s no minimum donation amount. And if Slappy gets to his $500 early, there’s no need to stop donating. Exceeding goals is a good thing.

If you’re interested in donating all you have to do is leave you email address in the comments section OF THIS POST and I will email all of you the link to donate. Or send me an email at: overflowingbrain@gmail.com and I’ll get the information out to you. (I’m not directly linking his page here because that’s a little too public with the names, etc, and this way I can control who sees that information, etc. Yes, I am a victim of identity theft, why do you ask?)

I’ll post periodic updates about his total raised as we get closer to the day and I will put some sort of device on the sidebar of the blog to link to this post and the St. Baldrick’s Foundation. Slappy has also eluded to a deal where if his donation goal is met or exceeded you might get a picture of his beautiful baldness, but that remains to be seen.

So, now do you see what shaving heads and Slappy’s birthday have in common?

Yea, me neither. Leave a comment and donate anyways.

Dear Heart,

First, mad props to you for being perhaps the only part of my body that has worked solidly for the past 25 years. I mean really. Last week the ER nurse said my EKG was “better than normal” so keep on keeping on. No complaints in the blood pumping arena. You rock.

Second, I have to extend a huge thank you for the major leaps and bounds by which you, and I suppose I, have grown in the past few years. Remember a few years ago, back in say, 2004, when we didn’t believe in love? I remember thinking it was just something that you were obligated to say by a certain stage in a relationship. To me, it wasn’t an emotion, it was a pretend state of being. It was how you kept a relationship together, by saying those 3 little words.

And then that cold June night when yet another body part (ankle, thankyouverymuch) fell apart (this time at least it was solidly someone else’s fault…) you did something completely foreign. You opened yourself up and let that silly boy in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle shirt in. You let him become something special, and you let real emotions, not pretend states of being, emerge.

It wasn’t love at first site, or even love at first conversation, but soon it was love and it was powerful. I remember being scared because my heart was truly in that relationship unlike it had ever been before, and the stakes were simply too high. I ended every single argument, no matter how insignificant, with a question: “are you going to break up with me?” because I knew that both you, and I, could not have overcome that hurt.

And now almost 5 years later, that love continues to grow and flourish in entirely new ways, in a marriage. Yes, it needs care and attention like nothing I could’ve ever imagined (side note: who forgot to mention that marriage is like having a toddler? Seriously, with the need for constant attention and effort), however it’s worth more to me than anything else. It has given rise to completely new feelings, highs and lows.

It has made me afraid to travel without my husband or be apart from him for any long span of time, because I feel like our hearts are so intertwined that if anything happened, you’d simply shatter into a billion worthless pieces without him. This love you’ve let me feel, you’ve allowed into my life, and it has completed me.

Now, now that you’ve gotten your ego patted heart, I have a simple request.

Since October, as I’m sure you’re aware, about 10 pounds have taken up residence on our body. It’s not anyone’s fault but mine, but no one is having a more difficult time with it than me. Because now when I look in the mirror, I can’t seem to love myself.

Sometime in the last 5 months and 10 pounds, you’ve lost the ability to allow love for what looks back at you in the mirror, and it is devastating. I want nothing more than to rediscover a love for myself, and not a conditional love, because we’ve done the years of mental anguish over being overweight. I need to rediscover a love for myself that doesn’t rely on what the image in the mirror is, but rather on who that person is and other non-visual cues.

I simply want to find the same love for myself that I have for my husband (or even for my cat for that matter). I don’t know where it went, but it’s time for it return.

I can’t begin to list all the ways that you have made my life worth living again in these last 5 years. I truly can’t. But heart, we both know that even the greatest love cannot overcome a lack of love for oneself and I would be remiss if I didn’t beg for help. I want to love me and I want to feel that others do as well. Even if my jeans are too tight and I can’t even fit into my workout clothes (oh the irony).

I look forward to such a great future, but only as long as you continue to do your job, and I continue to try to do mine too. Without you, in so many ways, I’d be nothing. And that’s not something I’ll soon forget.

With all the love you’ll allow me to give,

Katie

(P.S. This is a series on BlogHer, like last year’s Letter to my Body)

This has been the day few days week that never ends. But I finally have good news. Rather lots of it too. Um, but none of it is health related. Feel free to lecture me about advocating for my own healthcare in the comments. I need to hear it. I’m starting the Topamax on Monday and there’s a good chance that I might not remember what advocating for one’s health is afterwards.

Anyways, I left the house at 6:45 this morning to take a Microbiology test that I was not at all prepared for. I could tell you that I haven’t had the time, but we all know that’s a lie. I had a week off of work in which I could’ve learned a lot, but I didn’t. However, despite my lousy studying practices, apparently my guessing abilities have blossomed. Because I got an 88 out of 100. This is fantastic news, especially when you discover that the class average was a 48. So, methinks 40 percent above the average is commendable.

Then I went to work, which was, as usual, a giant zoo of chaos.

Somewhere in the middle of my day I got other good, nay, awesome news. Slappy, who is now in his 4th and final (praise the Lord) year of medical school, sent out his residency application last night around 9. As of this morning, he already has an interview at one of the programs. As of this evening, he has 2. And this is his application without any letters of recommendation attached, which is very impressive and awesome. Did I mention it is awesome? because it is. I’m so freaking proud of him.

Then, I left work early for a sporting event on the Northshore. For those not familiar with the geography of New Orleans, there is a big freaking lake here and to get to the northshore, you must drive across a big freaking bridge over the big freaking lake (that sentence originally contained the F bomb 3 times, I censored it because I’m feeling cool like that, yo). Like seriously, a 25 mile long bridge over water. Which is intimidating. It is horrendously frightening when you have to drive said bridge in wind gusting up to 40 miles an hour. Or when the waves in the middle of the big freaking lake are breaking like a foot below the bridge.

(Also, edited to add, because this was too good not to share: I noticed halfway through the drive that something was moving about in the trunk of my car. And then I noticed a smell. And then I remembered that we never removed the bag of CAT FOOD from my trunk from evacuation. So when I finally got across the freaking big lake, I have like a solid inch of cat food in my trunk. And my car smells like a cat’s mouth. I’m thinking if I just lock the cat in the trunk for about an hour I’ll take care of the mess, but perhaps not the smell.)

But I made it, and the sporting event actually went pretty well, which again, was a wonderful surprise.

To balance out the good, the big freaking bridge was closed by the time I got to leave the sporting event (which was, um, like 8:15pm) and therefore I had to drive AROUND the big freaking lake. I will never again complain about the causeway, because seriously, the amount of time it saves is unreal.

I got home at 9:45, ate dinner, watched America’s Next Top Model from last night (don’t judge me) and now I’m contemplating the merits of packing. This weekend is my weekend to fly home and bomb take another test, but the weather is concerning. We’re not getting a direct hit by Ike by any means, but we are again getting a good bitchslap by the dirty side of it. The winds are a little ridiculous. I might have to switch sides of the broken bed (that’s another story for another time) with Slappy tonight so that if the hammock outside our bedroom comes flying in it takes him out first. What? I have a plane to catch tomorrow.

And, finally, as today marked my 35th day without chocolate, I finally got to re-introduce it into my diet. And maybe I’ve built it up too much in its absence because it was actually not as good as I remember. That said, I’m pretty sure I’ll never ever go 35 consecutive days without it again. Hell, I might not go 35 non-consecutive days without it again.

So while it was a 14.5 hour work day and I’m so completely exhausted I might keel over here and now, it was also a day which included a good grade on a test, my husband getting 2 residency interviews, a success at coaching, not dying on the causeway and chocolate. A good day indeed.

Hallelujah. Can it be the weekend now?