Mary Christmas

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Jeffrey and I were woken up last night/this morning not by reindeer on the roof, but by the sound of multiple text messages from Tommy.

4:05 am--Wake up christmas

5:05 am--Wake up christmas

5:08 am--Wake up mary cristmas

5:26 am--Wake up for christmas

5:36 am--Come here now mary christmas

It's 9:07 am now....if you haven't opened your gifts yet, what are you waiting for mary christmas?  Get up and get to it mary christmas!

Written by Lauren

Bed, Bath, and Beyond All Understanding

Let me give you a short history lesson...

Once upon a time, my brother dated a girl named Shmaitlin*.  He and Shmaitlin dated during high school, but broke up shortly after going to different cities for college.  As far as we knew, the break up was as amicable as a break up can be. 

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent...and guilty.

Since then, Greg has gone on to date a few other girls, find the one he wanted to marry, marry Courtney, and generally move on with his life.  Shmaitlin, apparently, has not moved on.  Greg and Courtney arrived upon this information at the most curious of settings:  Bed, Bath, and Beyond.

Greg and Courtney stopped by BBB (as my mom and I call it, because we go there so often we're on a first-name acronym basis) to pick up a Christmas gift last week, and while browsing the aisles of cups, napkin rings, and coffee makers, Greg caught a glimpse of Shmaitlin.  He politely waved and said hello, and then moved to the next aisle.

On the next aisle, a boy he'd never seen before walked up to him, held out his hand for a handshake, and said, "Hi, I'm Shmevan, and I just wanted to meet the d*&%#$bag that made the biggest mistake of his life letting Shmaitlin go."

Greg, having shook his hand as a reflex, and now being locked into a conversation with this strange beginning, said with uncertainty, "You're welcome?"  (Because after all, if Greg hadn't broken up with Shmaitlin, Shmevan wouldn't be with her now, so Greg was hoping this was some ill-timed thank you.  It was not.)

No sooner had he said 'you're welcome' than Shmevan used the hand still locked in a handshake to wrench Greg toward him and grabbed his neck with his other hand.  Shmevan growled, "I think we need to go outside and talk about how you treated my girl."

(As an aside, when relating this story to us, Greg had to stop here because we all began to offer our suggestions as to what he should have said in response.  I said Greg should have leaned forward and whispered, "Dude, Santa is watching!"  Jeffrey said, "Greg, you should've dropped your BBB purchases on his toe and then made a run for it.  You might not be the biggest guy, but you can run a lot longer than most people.  My grandpa said he would have just taken him outside.)

Without our suggestions, though, Greg had to handle the conflict himself, so he just said, "Shmevan, I'm here to buy a Christmas present, and that's not really how I handle things."

Shmevan tried a couple more times, unsuccessfully, to get Greg to go outside and fist fight over done-her-wrongs from 4 years ago, but to no avail.  My brother is a rock.

And Shmevan, if you're reading this, the Oglesby family now packs heat every time they go to bath accessory stores.  Buyer beware.

Written by Lauren 

Family Follies

It's holiday time, which means lots of time with family and, naturally, lots of laughs (especially if you're related to the sort of people I'm related to).  Two of my favorites so far:

On Saturday night, Jeffrey and I attended the wedding of my cousin, Jay Tindol.  The wedding took place at the Chapel on the Hill at ACU, and everything was beautiful.  The groom's brother (another one of my cousins, Tyson) was the best man.  Tyson is about six feet, five inches and probably still growing.  I'm sure they had a time finding a pair of tuxedo pants in size 32 x 44. 

My dad performed the ceremony and did a really wonderful job, but unfortunately his performance was overshadowed when Tyson began to weave back and forth on his feet during the ceremony.  Luckily, the groomsman behind him noticed the unsteadiness, so by the time Tyson actually fainted, the groomsman had a firm hold on both his arms from behind.

The good news was that the groomsmen were safe from the awful fate that dominoes endure when lined up in a row and one domino tips over.  The bad news was that tough the "catcher groomsman" had a good hold on Tyson's arms, he couldn't really move the NBA-sized unconscious boy anywhere, so they just stood there for 5 uncomfortable seconds looking like a poorly-drawn teepee while the audience awkwardly giggled.

Finally, another groomsman stepped up and grabbed Tyson's top half, and at the same time Jay (the groom) scooped up Tyson's legs and the three of them carried Tyson down the stairs and to the floor in front of the first row.  By this time, Tyson had begun to regain consciousness.  Minutes later, the crowd clapped for him as he jumped (in one long-legged bound) back to the stage and his place to the groom's right just in time for the recessional.

After the wedding, Jeffrey and I drove over to Sharon Allen's BBQ to eat dinner with Jeffrey's mom's side of the family.  At one point, Jeffrey got up to use the restroom, and (monkey see, monkey do) his brother Tommy soon followed.  When Jeffrey got back he wondered aloud, "I hope Tom remembered to lock the door to the bathroom...it's just a one room/one toilet situation over there."

No sooner had he uttered this when Tom came back.  Darren asked Tom if he had remembered to lock the door.

He responded (without a hint of embarrassment), "No, but somebody came in and then locked it for me."

What a holiday surprise for that poor, poor patron!

Written by Lauren

Ramblin' Man

Lord, I was born a ramblin' man
Tryin' to make a livin' and doin' the best I can
And when it's time for leavin', I hope you'll understand
That I was born a ramblin' man
--The Allman Brothers Band


I don’t blog that often, mostly because Lauren is a much better writer but also because I just don’t have that much to say in a blog post. My thoughts are usually only deep enough to warrant 140 characters or less. Nevertheless, here I am today writing to inform y’all of my life for the past few months.

Since late October, I have been traveling around the state interviewing for residency positions at various programs. I must admit that it was very exciting at first – traveling to different cities, staying in swanky hotels (for free!), dining at fancy restaurants (for free!), wearing my new suit, and getting swag-bags full of coffee mugs, flash drives, candy, key chains, etc. But then a few weeks ago I woke up at 2:45am and couldn’t remember what city I was in (the blaring horn from a tanker in the harbor reminded me that I was in Galveston); that was the moment it became un-fun.

Another less-than-enjoyable part of the whole process has been the driving. I got the oil in my truck changed on November 18th, and by December 6th it was due to be changed again. Also, you can only cycle through your CDs and iPod playlists so many times before you get tired of your music. (By the way, you know you’re traveling a lot when you see the same 18-wheeler headed down I-10 one week and I-30 the next. How do I know it was the same truck, you ask? Let’s just say he had a very suggestive pair of mud flaps and a mildly racist bumper sticker.) Here is a quick recap of my travels:

Oct. 20-23
San Antonio to Lubbock - 388.2 miles
Lubbock to Abilene - 163.4 miles
Abilene to San Antonio - 245.8 miles

Nov. 6-7
San Antonio to Houston - 197.3 miles
Houston to San Antonio - 197.3 miles

Nov. 18-22
San Antonio to Longview - 347.0 miles
Longview to Oklahoma City - 330.6 miles
OKC to Austin - 388.5 miles
Austin to San Antonio - 80.6 miles

Nov. 23-25 (Thanksgiving)
San Antonio to Rogers - 146.2 miles
Rogers to San Antonio - 146.2 miles

Nov. 27 - Dec. 3
San Antonio to Galveston - 250.5 miles
Galveston to Temple - 221.4 miles
Temple to Dallas - 132.7 miles
Dallas to San Antonio - 278.1 miles

Dec. 4-6
San Antonio to Houston - 197.3 miles
Houston to San Antonio - 197.3 miles

Dec. 11-13
San Antonio to Ft. Worth - 265.3 miles
Ft. Worth to Memphis (TN) - 485.7 miles
Memphis to Ft. Worth - 485.7 miles
Ft. Worth to San Antonio - 265.3 miles

TOTAL MILEAGE: 5410.4 miles


I still have some interviews in January so that total will continue to increase in the New Year. It may sound like I’m complaining (because I am a little bit), but I do feel extremely blessed to have received so many interview invitations. It’s a good problem to have, I suppose. And someday soon it will all be worth it when I finally get a job.

On the upside, all those hours in the car have allowed me to practice and perfect my ability to mimic the guitar talk-box à la Peter Frampton, Joe Walsh, and Bon Jovi. I also now know all the hot spots for excellent truck stop dining along the major Texas highways, as well as which locations have either clean or highly-questionable bathroom facilities. So next time you’re in Texarkana, make sure and stop at The Roadrunner for a clean toilet, a cup of coffee, and the Jumbo BBQ Burger – tell ‘em Jeffrey sent ya!

Pick a Card

Merry Christmas, everyone!

The last year has really flown by. As it says on our Christmas card, we are beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel as far as school is concerned. Here’s a little look back at this year…

Jeffrey and I both finished up the Spring semester of our 3rd year, but not at the same time. Jeffrey’s last rotation extended through the end of June, meaning that his 3rd year was a marathon of 12 months working in the hospital with very few holidays, many mornings that started in the wee hours, and even one icy day that required him to walk to the hospital when a storm turned the roads into slip’n’slides. My semester ended in the middle of May, but my Fall semester started again the first week of July, so we only got to enjoy 5 days of summer freedom together. Apparently we have finally transitioned into the grown up world where summer is just another day that you go to work, only hotter.

Speaking of hot, we managed to float the river during our week-long reprieve. We traveled to the Comal with a group of friends from college, tied together 12 rafts, and enjoyed a summer day on the water. In keeping with San Antonio tradition, we drove straight from the river to the Gristmill in Gruene for some fried onion rings, fried chicken, and French fries. (We’re still working off those calories 5 months later.)

Both of us had another round of National Board exams to take this year, Jeffrey’s in the summer and mine just a couple of weeks ago. It’s strangely dissatisfying to spend thousands of dollars for the privilege of taking a 500 question test, but at this point we’ll pay anything to get those magic initials behind our names.

My brother got married in November to a girl named Courtney Yoder. She’s cute and smart and fun to be around, so we’re pretty sure that Greg tricked her into marrying him. We tried desperately to convince her that instead of taking his name, she should do the modern thing and combine their last names. We felt that ‘Courtney Yoglesby’ had a nice ring to it, but she decided to go with plain old Oglesby. They are now living happily ever after in a love shack in Abilene owned by the rental home tycoon, Robert Oglesby.

At some point this year, Jeffrey decided that he would become an Internist. What’s an Internist, you ask? Simply put, an Internist is a doctor for adults who does not do surgery. So if you’re an adult and you saved that buy one, get one free prostate exam coupon we sent as our Christmas card in 2009, feel free to cash in!

So what’s next? Jeffrey is interviewing through January at various programs for a residency position in Internal Medicine. Most of the interviews are in Texas, but a few are out of state. We’re trying to keep an open mind about where to go next (and our parents are praying daily that our minds are closed to every program except the ones closest to them). Once all the interviews are done, students rank programs, and programs rank students, and then the Wizard of Oz matches the two lists. Then one fine day in March, we will find out where we’ll spend the next 3 years of our lives.

Both of us are graduating on May 27th, but I don’t have to complete a residency, so I’ll be job-hunting starting in March, and hopefully I’ll be drillin’ and fillin’ by June. I feel ready to branch out on my own at this point. After all, I have spent the last four years learning how to scare the spit (literally) out of my patients, and now I’m ready to have a go at it unsupervised.

It's been a busy but great year, and we can't wait to see what 2012 has in store. We hope you all have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

TB or not TB? That is the question.

I got an email message last week from our student health clinic stating that it was time for my yearly Tuberculosis skin test. 

For those of you who aren't dorks, let me explain that TB tests are done by using a syringe to place some tuberculin bacteria just below the skin and then evaluating the area within 48 hours.  A huge swelling indicates that you have been exposed to TB. 

Unfortunately, last year the goober who gave me my skin test shoved the needle so deeply into my arm that it bled and bruised for several days after.  (I know that none of you feel sorry for me, a dental student who gives people shots every day, but you should!)

Understandably, this year I was not excited about going in to get my annual subcutaneous/deep vein TB test.  I was also less than enthused about the prospect of trying to even find a time to go in.  Last year I got one half day off each week to take care of obnoxious errands such as this, but this year I have my Implant Selective on my half day off, so it becomes quite a chore to find time during business hours to go in.

Luckily, today the selective got finished early, so I ran over to the health clinic to get my test done.

It did not go well.

I walked into the clinic and was pleased to find that there were no other students waiting to be seen, so I assumed I could quickly get the test.  I approached the glass window and watched as the receptionist attempted a smile (one that more closely resembled a grimace), then partially slid open the window. 

Receptionist:  Can I help you?
Me:  Hi, I'm here to get my TB test.
Receptionist:  Do you have an appointment?  Because there's another patient here now.
Me:  (Wondering how the clinic could be completely overrun by a single patient and a student here to get a TB test that quite literally takes 1 minute to perform) No, I don't.  I don't have any time off during the day, but today I finished early so I hurried over to see if you had time to see me.
Receptionist:  Let me check with the nurse.  (She slides the glass window closed again, as if I might pull a John Q and take the clinic hostage and demand my skin test if not properly barred from entry)

Lo and behold, they decided that the 15-person staff could handle seeing 2 patients at once, so the receptionist returned.

She asked me my full name, my cell phone number, my street address, my social security number, my UTHSCSA badge number, and my shoe size.  (Kidding on that last one.)  She diligently typed each answer into my computer file.  Then she handed me a stack of forms to fill out.  Guess what I needed to fill out on the forms?  You guessed it...my full name, my cell phone number, my street address, my social security number, my UTHSCSA badge number, and my favorite color.  (Kidding again on the last one.) 

Why, oh why could she not just fill out the computer form off the paper forms?  Or why could they not just ask if there were any changes since I filled out these exact same forms last year?  Questions without answers.

When I handed back my stack of redundant papers, the receptionist motioned to a nurse who had been (busily?) sitting in a chair and the nurse came to get me.

Nurse:  So today is your only time off?
Me:  Well, I technically don't have time off during business hours.  I just happened to get done early today.
Nurse:  Well, we're open now until 7 pm on Mondays, so you could have made an appointment.
Me:  (Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the stethescope today)  Oh, I didn't realize you stayed open so late.
Nurse:  It's new.  (But she said this in a tone of voice that sounded like she felt I should've known better)
Me:  Umm...well, thanks for seeing me anyway.

I must say, Nurse Ratched did a very nice job with my TB test.  She angled the needle barely beneath the skin and I didn't even bleed.

I quickly left so as not to monopolize any more time away from the other patient (who was apparently hiding somewhere since I saw no one else in the office with no doors on the examining rooms).

The receptionist must have been busy staring at the wall when I left because she forgot to say goodbye.

One flew east
One flew west
One had to fight for her TB test

Comet and Cupid and Donner and...Dixie?

We had our 4th annual Christmas party two weekends ago and it was a blast.  Even though it was a little bit of a last minute party, we had a good group of friends there to celebrate with us.  

 

Adam and Lacie.  (Adam is smiling bigger than Lacie because he's already graduated from dental school, and Lacie's still finishing up the year with me.  Someday we'll all smile again, Lacie.  Probably the day we get our first paycheck in 4 years!

 

Alexandra and Matthew/American Gothic
(Our parties are very artistic.)



Meet Dixie the Reindog!  She does NOT like antlers.

 

But she LOVES Clayton.



Kathrine, Blake, and Carly



Alli and Jeff

 I get a really sick satisfaction out of decorating everything for Christmas in a completely matching theme.  I think I have a problem.  But how cute is it when all the presents match and every gift tag has identical "Merry Christmas" glitter messages emblazoned on them?  (Answer:  SO cute!)







Santa Claus is coming to town soon, but don't expect to see his special reindog.  She doesn't want to wear her antlers anymore.



Four Letter Word

I have a new favorite four letter word...

PASS.

I got a letter today that said in bold, capital letters that I passed my National Board Exam. 

For those of you wondering, my previous favorite four letter word was "iota," as in, now that I've passed my National Boards, I don't care one iota about studying anymore.

(Kidding!)

Thanksgrubbing

This year we went to Grampy's (my mom's dad) farm close to Temple for Thanksgiving.  We had a smaller holiday than usual because my brother and his new wife (sounds so weird to say 'wife'!) were on a cruise on their honeymoon, and my Uncle Gary, Aunt Lisa, and their two boys stayed in Abilene.  With just my mom, dad, sister, Aunt Cindy, Jeffrey, and me, we had a rather quiet break.  Don't worry, though, we didn't let the meager showing keep us from cooking like we were trying to feed a small army. 

My mom cooked the most incredible feast for turkey day, including (of course) an entire turkey, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, and her famous stuffing.  The next day we thought that the seven of us could just munch on the ample leftovers, but Grampy insisted that we cook an entire ham.  A whole turkey...an entire ham...seven people.  Yeah, we had some leftovers.

Proof that we had fun:


Dixie dog got to come to Thanksgiving this year at Grampy's.  Her favorite holiday activity?  Sprinting as quickly as possible from one side of the farm to the other.  She is the only one who lost weight over the break.

Grampy is pretty great in the kitchen, but all the ingredients in his recipes are measured in "dashes" and "little bits" and "about so much-es," so it's difficult to emulate.



Dad and Leslie shelling pecans.  The weather was perfect for porch-sitting!



Remember what I said about sprinting?  I had to use the motion capture feature on my camera to catch this shot.



Family photo

Big red barn




Big red barn remix



This is the magazine's version of the Chocolate Gingerbread Toffee Cake.



This is me trying to make said cake.  I was planning on showing an "after" shot of the cake, but let's just say that it looked like the opposite of the magazine's cake.  Instead of three layers, it was more like 19 layers since every bit of the cake stuck to the bottom of the pans and had to be peeled off in layers.  I made the ganache too thin, so it ran all over the serving dish instead of neatly separating the cake layers.  Oh yeah, and I added the sugar to the whipping cream too early, so the cream never whipped, and thus, we had no icing on our cake.  The up side?  Chocolate, gingerbread, and toffee are STILL delicious together, regardless of the presentation!

 

Fruitcake

I have sooooo many things to blog about--my brother getting married, the Thanksgiving holiday, taking my board exam, and friends having babies.  For now, though, those stories will have to wait, because I'm tired.  Fear not, faithful readers, I leave you with this gem of a story brought to you by my very funny honey.

Jeffrey and I were debating about which recipe from the Christmas issue of Southern Living magazine we should try out at Thanksgiving dinner.  It was a tough choice, but the final two contenders were the Chocolate Gingerbread Toffee Cake and the Peppermint Cheesecake.

Lauren:  Mmmm....I love toffee.  And chocolate.  And gingerbread.
Jeffrey:  What's toffee?
Lauren:  It's like caramel...kind of.  It's what's in a Skor bar.
Jeffrey:  What's a Skor bar?  Did you just make that up?
Lauren:  Yes, I make up toffee-flavored candy bars in my spare time.
Jeffrey:  Hmm.
Lauren:  I think I might just do the cheesecake.  Cheesecake is a lot easier to make.
Jeffrey:  No, don't do that.  You don't like cheesecake so you won't eat it.  And you should get to eat the fruits of your labor.
Lauren:  True.
Jeffrey:  Except your kids.  You shouldn't eat your kids.
Lauren:  So true.

Don't Forget to Remember

It's commonly known that women who have just had a baby can often become forgetful in the months of insomnia, worry, and adjusting that occur after parturition; however, if you are so forgetful that you need this bumper sticker on your van to remind you that you have a baby, you might want to consider hiring help.  Professional help.

*My friend pointed out that this could be a message to first responders if the driver got in an accident, lost consciousness, and wanted to make sure the baby was cared for, but it's funnier my way, so just go with it, ok?

I spotted this sticker on a car in the parking lot of a continuing education lecture series I went to on Friday entitled "Street drugs and their effect on your dental practice."  (Yes, I really did hear 6 hours of lecture on street drugs...and yes, I really did want to do drugs after listening to that many hours of rambling about the number of household products that can be huffed, sniffed, smoked, puffed, swallowed, and injected for a high.  After that lecture, I give the teens of America two thumbs up for creativity in finding substances that create a high, but only one thumb up on not getting caught...then again, if they're already high they probably have some double vision going on and see two thumbs up either way.)

Identity Crisis

I'm beginning to have an identity crisis because of situations that continue to arise in my life. 

Several months ago I began receiving material in the mail from AARP.  This program is meant for people over 55 years of age, so I assumed there had been a mix up and the pamphlet was sent to me by accident.  Since then, I've gotten about 20 additional informational packets and offers from the group, each time addressed to me.  These old codgers are persistent!  I think I may have to call and tell them that I was BORN in '86--I'm not 86 years old.

Secondly, Jeffrey and I worked in the nursery at church yesterday and one of the kids wasn't feeling well so I took her out to the hallway for a little fresh air and quiet.  When I came back to the room with the other kids, Jeffrey was laughing hard.  He told me that while I was gone one of the kids said, "Hey, Jeffrey, where did your mommy go?"

Suddenly I feel very old.  Haha.

myPhone, iPhone

**Disclaimer:  The following is a true story related to me by my friend, Maegan.  All parties are innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.

Last week at school there was a patient (we'll call her Melissa) who came into the dental clinic for emergency care.  She was assigned to one of our fourth year dental students (we'll call her Sarah).  Sarah began her initial exam as per usual, but at one point needed to return to the dispensary to get some supplies for the treatment.  She knew that she had left her cell phone on the counter next to her computer, however, when she returned a few minutes later, it was gone. 

Naturally, she suspected that the patient might have taken it, but trying to give Melissa the benefit of the doubt, she asked, "Did someone come in here while I was gone?"

Melissa quickly responded, "Nope.  It's just been me in here."  (*Side note:  Melissa, this is where you could really have improved your situation.  You could have said that a man in a ski mask ran in and stole the phone.  You could have said that another patient took it.  Instead, you basically said, "Nope.  I'm the only suspect in the lineup!")

Now even more suspicious, but trying to cover her bases, Sarah asked some students nearby if they had moved or seen her phone.  All said that they hadn't, so Sarah came back to Melissa.  She gave her one more chance, asking if Melissa had "moved" the phone rather than asking if she had "stolen" it.  Melissa again denied any knowledge of the phone's whereabouts.

Frustrated, Sarah said, "Alright, then.  I'm going to call security because they need to search and I need to file a report.  I'll be right back."

As she turned to call the campus police, Melissa suddenly said, "Oh, I don't know where your phone is, but I do remember that there were two phones on the counter.  I didn't pick up yours, but I picked up the other one."

At this point, Melissa pulled Sarah's phone out of her pocket.  It no longer had the case on it, but it was her phone.  Sarah looked at it and said, "Hey, that's my phone!"

Melissa (clearly with the IQ of a rock) said, "No it isn't, it's the other phone."  (*Again, Melissa, this was a misstep.  Putting aside the fact that this is a lame excuse, even if it had been the truth, you STILL would be guilty of stealing because neither phone was YOUR phone.)

Sarah took her phone back...and Melissa got escorted to the police station.

Just another day in paradise.

Happy Halloween!

In honor of Halloween, I've decided to tell you a scary story. 

Once upon a time there were some people who went trick or treating year after year and ate loads of candy but never, ever brushed their teeth. 

The evil Cavity Fairy visited these people and decayed all their teeth. 

Luckily, these people knew a dental student named Lauren.  Sadly, though, it was too late, and even a prince's kiss couldn't bring these sleeping stinking beauties back to life.  So Lauren had to pull them all out.  Muah-ha-ha-ha! 

And now she has a scary collection of fangs to show on her blog on Halloween to remind everyone to enjoy their candy, then BRUSH THEIR FANGS!

Pumkins and Lentils

It's officially Fall (although you can't tell by the weather outside).  We differentiate between the seasons here by putting up different paintings over the mantle to show that there has been a change, despite the persistent high of ninety degrees in South Texas.

This time I decided to rip off an idea from a Southern Living magazine.

Inspiration:

My rendition:

Jeffrey thinks it looks a little like the Canadian flag, and has been known to salute it while singing "Oh, Canada."  The artist in me does NOT appreciate this type of standing ovation for my efforts.

But paintings aren't the only way I've been celebrating Fall.  There have also been pumpkins.

My friend Amanda started a craft night once a month for some friends who live in San Antonio.  This month's craft was, of course, carving pumpkins.  Amanda always decorates beautifully for any party that she throws, and this one was no different.  There was even a doormat that senses when someone arrives and invites them to "enter if they dare" complete with scary vampire laughter!

Usually Jeffrey and I aren't much for nicknames, but I guess all this Fall spirit has gotten to me, because yesterday I suddenly found myself calling Jeffrey "pumpkin."  He, being a warm-blooded American male, did not care for this nickname, but instead of just asking me to stop, he decided to get even.

I have since been referred to as his little squash, cucumber, green bean, and (my personal favorite) lentil.

Now at night it sounds like this at our house:

Lauren:  Goodnight, my little pumpkin.  I love you.
Jeffrey:  Goodnight, lentil.  I love you.
Together:  Goodnight, Dixie, our little turnip.
Lauren:  [uncontrollable giggles]

Strike Two

As you avid blog readers will remember, I have blogged before about arguments that ensue when Jeffrey and I watch baseball games together. (And yet it keeps happening!)

The last one was about the appropriateness of the phrase "no hitter" to describe a baseball game in which people can hit the ball or be walked, but cannot earn a base by hitting. I said this should be called a "no base-r." Jeffrey said I should be called a "no brainer."

Most recently I had to got to watch eleven innings of Ranger's baseball with Jeffrey, during which time a discussion about intentional walks came up. Jeffrey tells me I need to set the scene, so here it is:

In extra innings, the Rangers have two outs and just walked a batter to first. The runner on first was a threat to steal second because the pitcher has a slow delivery. (Are any women still reading this at this point?) The commentator said that if the runner did indeed steal second base, it would be a smart strategy to intentionally walk the current batter so that following his walk to first there would be three opportunities for forced outs when the next batter came to the plate (first, second, or third base).

At this comment, I said, "That's lame baseball."

Jeffrey: "That's smart baseball."

Lauren: "It might be a smart strategy, but it's lame. Just because someone's good doesn't mean you should completely take them out of the game."

Jeffrey: "It's just the same as playing a box and one in basketball (ladies, that's when you play zone defense with four people and guard the best player man-to-man) and nobody calls that lame."

Lauren: "That's because it's not the same as a box and one. It's the same as a box and one player tackles your best player on the sidelines and holds him down for the remainder of the play."

Jeffrey: "That's illegal."

Lauren: "I know. And it should be. So should intentionally walking someone in baseball. The bottom line is, baseball is supposed to be entertaining, and watching someone play catch 6 feet out of the strike zone and a big hitter mosey from the batter's box to first base is not entertaining."

Jeffrey: "Besides the fact that it happens less than 5% of the time in each year, it is entertaining to watch your team win, and by winning each team gets more money, so it is to the team's (and therefore the fan's) advantage to win. Furthermore, it's not like it doesn't have it's risks. Walking someone means you have another body on base, so another potential for a score. In addition, using this strategy to create more wins allows general managers more latitude in creating teams filled with all stars, rather than a team with one great player who will often be intentionally walked in these situations."

Lauren: [Having started to watch The Real Housewives of New Jersey sometime around where Jeffrey said "Furthermore..."] "It's lame baseball."

It's 0 and 2 on our marriage + baseball pitch count--it seems we're only one strike away from a lonely walk back to the dugout (single life), so I'm afraid that the next time Jeffrey decides to turn on the Rangers, I might just have to intentionally walk myself to the mall.

Duly Noted

I like notes.

I don't like them as much as 7th grade girls like them, but I like them. (Speaking of, I recently dug through some of my old notes from junior high and high school that I saved...I learned the following:

#1--We did NOT have enough busy work in class. I could give War and Peace a run for its money on length if I combined all my old notes; although, the content and vocabulary would perhaps not be as lofty. Perhaps.
#2--I had not outgrown coloring at age 18. Very embarrassing.
#3--I have amnesia. I guess we wrote in code to protect against the minority of teachers who paid attention to note passing and would take up and read these literary gems. I saved some of my notes that I felt were "special," but now I can't remember any of the codes we used. I'm old.

For those keeping count, this is the longest bit of writing I've ever put in parenthesis.....and, scene.)

Anyway, I found a new fun website where people post pictures of funny notes they find. A few examples, for your viewing pleasure:


Obviously, my favorites are the notes in response to notes. It's non-confrontationalism (might have just made up that word) at its finest!

All these notes remind me of a little joke my dad and I played while I was in college. There was a bathroom near his office at school that had two entrances/exits. One day, there was a sign on the door that said, "Please use other door," and had an arrow pointing to the right. We thought it would be funny to put an identical sign on the other door with the arrow pointing to the left...back toward the other sign. And it was funny. Hilarious, in fact, to us as we watched people pace back and forth between the doors doing the potty dance.

You think we're mean for doing that? Noted.