I have joined a club I didn’t know exisited…

It’s called “The Target opens at 8am and I’m sitting waiting at 7:55 and there’s not a special sale” club
There’s like 20 cars here! Most of us are on some sort of mobile device passing the time nicely.
But this one lady apparently also didn’t know there was a club meeting.  She approached the door and when it didnKt open, she went to the ALL the other doors before realizing that A) the store is dark and B) the store hours were posted next to the first door she tried to go through.  And then this well-dressed woman threw a little hissy fit and stomped her feet.
I can’t wait to followw her into the store.
– Target Clubbin’


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Sports and a Girl who Loves Them

That’s me.  I love sports.  (Almost all sports.)  ESPN is the first channel I find on the television and the last app I look at before going to sleep…okay, Twitter might be the last app too…but those two for sure.  In fact, while this might be published later today, I am currently typing this out in front of a NASCAR race.  (Go Jeff Gordon!)

You can blame my dad.  And Doritos.  And my persistence in asking questions and getting answers at age 3.

There are rules.  There are sides.  There is (almost) always a winner.  There is controversy.  There is talking heads arguing about stuff.  There are eternally debatable questions, like “Who’s the best (fill-in-the-blank) ever?”  There are little kids discovering sports and watching them play sports.  There is playing sports.  There is the enjoyment and disappointment in something bigger than yourself.  There is always a game on and a team to follow.

The problem is I’m a girl.  Not a problem in my opinion.  But a small problem in the real world.  Boys didn’t always appreciate a girl knowing more about their sport than they did, even if they did at first.  Boys certainly didn’t appreciate if a girl beat them at their own made-up games (at first college football game bowl predictions and then fantasy sports).  These boys are easy to avoid and most don’t fall into this category anyway.  Lucky me, Hubby gets it.  (And me, he totally gets me.)

Girls…well, they are a different story.  I can’t stand the girls who whine about being a sports widow.  Dude, you are with a guy who enjoys sports to the point that he might ignore you.  Do one of three things:  1 – learn about the sport(s) and you’ll have something to share with him, 2 – STFU, 3 – get with someone else.

You wanna do number 1 but don’t know how…there’s Google, there’s asking him, there’s seeking out a good friend who knows, or stay here.  I’m so passionate about sports that I’ve taught other people, including girls who had no clue, about sports.

So stick around and learn a thing or two about sports and become a part of something bigger than you.

– Fanatic

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It was what’s for Dinner 2

It was a plan ahead item but doesn’t have to be. I saw this online somewhere but forget where and adapted it to my family’s taste. I generally serve 2- 3 per adult and 1 to Doodle.

Cupcake Lasagnes
1 package of wonton wrappers
1/2 pound of browned sausage
1-2 jars of spagetti sauce
2 (or more) cups mozzerella cheese
1/2 15 ounce container of ricotta cheese
1/4-1/2 cup parmeasan-romano cheese
cupcake pan
Italian spices – oregano, basil, garlic

So this can be made ahead but if you’re not doing that, preheat the oven, while you’re browning the meat.  Liberally oil the cupcake pan anywhere cheese might touch, especially in the cupcake parts.  Place on wonton wrapper in each cupcake pan.  Mix ricotta, parm-romano, 1/3-1/2 of the mozzerella, and the spices.  Add generous teaspoon of cheese mixture to each cupcake.  Add some sausage.  Add generous tablespoon of sauce.  Add another wrapper and sort of smoosh it down; this wrapper should be at a different angle than the first one so you could see all 8 corners.  Repeat cheese, sausage, sauce and wrapper.  Typically, I’m out of cheese mixture and sausage after 2 layers.  The third wrapper is layered with the leftover suace and topped off with the leftover mozzerella.  Bake at 400 degree F for 20 minutes.  They are tricky to get out unless you’ve liberally oiled in step one.

This time, my cupcakes sat in my fridge for a week before heating and eating.  We also had a salad and garlic bread.  This could be frozen too but to keep their shape should be reheated in a cupcake pan.

I originally saw this on the internet.  Unfortunately, at this point, I forget where.

– Cupcake-inspired

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There are 2 kinds of Cobras in my life right now

This is a real email exchange.  I just change the names of the places I’ve worked to protect them.


From: Me

To: Hubby

Sent: Recently


so this is what i was told:

1 – current hospital covers health insurance for 30-days after your termination date.  (fat chance if you think i believe this since they don’t cover it for Family Leave and SCREW IT UP WHEN THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO COVER IT DURING LEAVE FOR RESIDENTS…so excuse my skepticism! (fuck, that’s a hard word to spell.))

2 – they send out a packet in the mail for cobra.

3 – cobra is retro-active to the date of your last health insurance coverage.  you have 30 days to sign-up.  (or possibly 90)

4 – she didn’t know the cost but did agree with me that i likely won’t need it. (she didn’t know about the family leave screw up though.)  (“she” is a lady in the graduate medical education office, not my usual contact there.)

so this is what i think:

a – if current hospital does indeed cover us for 30 days after my last day, wahoo, we don’t need cobra.

b – if current hospital blows even more than they are are know to blow, they don’t cover it for 30 days.

c – cobra crap comes in the mail.  if a, we keep it until we definitely have insurance in NC and then throw it away.

d – i remember “risking it” when i left former hospital for current hospital.  we weren’t covered for 30 days because current hospital’s insurance doesn’t start until you have worked there 31 days.  we didn’t have Doodle but i was pregnant.  we could have always sign up for cobra if something bad happened in that time because we had 90 days (from former hospital) to sign up for it and it would be retro-active to the last day of insurance.  we saved $1200 “risking” it when we weren’t really “risking” anything because we could always sign up and retro-action everything…and it’s legal and we save money.

e – if b, then i think we should do d and then c.

f – if you understand e, you complete me.

g – if you don’t understand e, i’m crazy.

h – just because you understand e, doesn’t mean i’m not crazy.

i – the coral snake is the “American cobra.”  it is a venomous snake.  it is native to NC (but not NJ or PA).  cobras are neurotoxin snakes.  meaning if they bite you, your diaphragm could stop working and you die.  there is an antivemon.  however in the US, there isn’t a manufacturer anymore so the supply is running very low and most of its is expired.  thank god for ventilators because eventually the venom wears off…but that takes days-weeks.

j – yes, i’m moving you to a state that has more varieties of venomous snakes than the one we currently live in AND i’m excited about that!


His response:

From: Hubby

To: Me

Sent: Recently


I love you.


No, Hubby, I love you.

– Hissssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

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PMS: Where the f*ck did it come from?!?!

And how do I get rid of it?

Backstory:  I was on hormonal birth control from the time I was 17 up until Hubby and I decided to start trying to have a baby.  That’s a lotta years.  I went on it for my migraines.  Seriously.  I had/have menstrual migraines and the pill helped me time them to be convenient for my life (meaning, weekends, so I could go to school/classes/etc).  And it worked.  (Apparently, it also worked on acne I didn’t know I had/have…bonus side effect that I learned about once I went off the pill.)

So I always knew when “it” was coming.  But “it” wasn’t so bad.  I didn’t have any of the other commonly complained about symptoms and my migraine frequency also lessened, in addition to be timed to my life.  (Except the bastard migraines, the BIG ones…they have no schedule.)  And I would be a little clumsy the day before.

Zoom to now, Doodle is 18 months old.  Pregnancy was an awesome (not sarcastic) hormonal time (really, I’m not being sarcastic) and I haven’t been on the pill since.  About six month ago, I noticed that I was really clumsy the day before, not like stub your toe, but more like drop your keys 14 times on the way to the car and then proceed to back your car into a parked car.  And I would get upset by this.  Really upset.  And then I caught myself thinking that everyone in the world was a douche.  And while this is a common thought, I was applying it to Hubby and Doodle who, while they have douchey moments, are not douches.  And I am feeling like I’m going to cry.  Right now.  All the time.  I AM NOT A CRIER!  (Except to Steel Magnolias and ET, and if you don’t cry at those, you should ask yourself, “where is my soul?” because clearly you sold it to the devil or a mattress salesman.)  And I have moments where I think “Is this depression?  Post-partum depression or regular depression?  I can’t have depression.  Stop thinking the word depression, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?”  And the cramps are back, with a vengeance.  So are the migraines.  And the acne.  And I don’t sleep well and when I do, the crazy-ass dreams occur that are so vivid I think they’re real, but a half-dragon person can’t save you from death when you’re an inch away if you suck on the dragon’s horns.  (And it wasn’t a half-dragon, but some weirder beast, but it’s the closest approximation I’m going to get.)

So not only do I emotionally feel like crap, but I physically feel like crap, and thanks to the acne, feel that I look like crap.

I don’t remember any of this, except the cramps…I used to faint in high school all the time because the cramps were so bad…and the migraines…but I can fall back onto pain control…so I lack a foundation of dealing with it…and I shouldn’t be dealing with it for the first time in my 30’s when most girls get it figured out in high school and college.

And then 36-48 hours later, I feel back to my normal self.  Usually about 12 hours after I remember what the fuck is wrong with me and why I feel this way.  I realize it’s not depression (a hazard of being a toxicologist is that I talk to a lot of suicidal people and I’m not a psychiatrist or a psychologist) and I’m not crazy.

And then I think, I’ll do better next month because I’ll remember what this feeling is like.  But next month comes, like a bat out of hell around a blind corner, because where *did* all those days go?  And I’m left doing it all over again.

I need caffeine and a beer and a bath.  And it to be 12 hours from now.

– Sigh-y

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Two Breaths

Every night.

I go into your room.

I check for two breaths.

Some nights, I sneak.  Some, I barge.  Others, I try to be quiet and fail. (WTF? I thought stepping on Legos wasn’t supposed to happen until much later.)

I put my hand on you.  Usually your back.

And wait for two breaths.

Your warmth reassures me initially.

But I need to feel those two breaths.

Sometimes you’re lightly snoring.  And should pass without touching.

Sometimes you even move and should pass without hearing.

Every time, I must feel two breaths anyway.

When you don’t breath fast enough or deep enough for me to feel them, I poke you until you move.  (It’s mean to wake a sleeping child, to the parents and the child, but I need to.)

You’re breathing!  You’re alive!

Your father thinks I’m crazy and refuses to do it when I’m not home.  Of course, he’s breathing and alive, what else would he be?

I think about my job and want to say that it could be all over so quickly but that’s a too sad of thought to go to bed with.  So I sigh.

And I know I’ll be back again tomorrow night.

– Momma

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A Light at the End of One of my Tunnels

I am graduating.  YAY!  (Finally, says Hubby.)

I have gone through 13 years of primary/secondary school, 4 years of college, 4 years of medical school, and 6 combined years of post-graduate training, aka internship, residency, and fellowship.  That’s 27 years of schooling, people!

I am entering a new chapter in my life, one that involves the buck finally stopping with me.  While I have spent some time moonlighting as an attending in the Emergency Department where I trained, I haven’t done it full-time…and I was doing my fellowship too.  I am excited and nervous and wanna vomit.  I will have one job and only be required to go to one hospital.

I am moving my family about 400 miles from our current home in less than one month.  We are trying to cram as many Philadelphia/South Jersey things and people in that short time, while finishing our full-time jobs and making sure Doodle is fully fed and rested.  Ha!  This weekend is one of those things:  Atlantic City.  Doodle has his favorite babysitter lined up.  We have reservations at our favorite restaurant there and some gambling money (we like penny slots and blackjack, but mostly penny slots, because it’s about spending goofy-ass time talking to Hubby and not about winning, although winning is nice).


MISS:  Atlantic City and other beaches is only 1-1.5 hours away.

WON’T MISS:  The beach…because we will still only be 1-1.5 hours away.  It’s a different kind of beach so I will miss boardwalk-style beaches but I prefer quieter beaches anyway.

MISS:  Our daycare…those ladies rock!

WON’T MISS:  Our tiny condo…too tiny for the 3 of us.

MISS:  Cheesesteaks (no, spell check, this *is* the correct spelling)

WON’T MISS:  Armpit soft pretzels (although Hubby will miss these and insists they aren’t from the armpit, but I’ve seen the guys carrying them that way!)

MISS:  The view driving over the Ben Franklin Bridge every day…the massive supports, the weather…

WON’T MISS:  Driving over the Ben Franklin Bridge every day…the cost, the traffic, the fact that I’m heading to/from work, idiots who likely drive it every day but seem to forget how the traffic patterns go (I cannot possibly be around drivers who are on the bridge for the first time every day.)

MISS:  South Jersey.  I have fallen hard for this community, one part city, one part small town, one part farm, one part beach, one part extreme pride, one part inferiority complex (coming from proximity to Philly and NYC without actually being either), one part sleazy gambling, one part family fun.

WON’T MISS:  Pennsylvania drivers in South Jersey…seriously, worst drivers in the US (at least the Northeast, worse than NYC drivers, worse than CT drivers who commute to NYC every day, worse than Mass-holes on the Mass Pike or in Boston)

MISS:  Jersey traffic quirks…lefts are not lefts (they are “all turns” on the right), traffic circles, drive right, pass left, go fast, not pumping my own gas (!)

WON’T MISS:  Traffic.  Drivers who think drive right, pass left applies on every road (ummm…just highways, dude, not this 4 lane road with stop lights every 100 yards or so).  Drivers who likely have driven in Jersey before and obviously just cannot remember that.

MISS:  PJWhelihan’s(especially their wings, the Wing Bowl wings) and Iron Hill Brewery and the fact that Philly does a have great restaurant scene.  Cheaper than NYC but just as good.  Steven Starr restaurants are among are favorites but there are plenty others.

WON’T MISS:  My downstairs neighbor and her passive-aggressive dog.  We’ve lived here 5 years and that dog still barks every time I enter the house and my neighbor is home.  Doesn’t bark when she isn’t home.  Doesn’t bark for anyone else.  Growls at my kid.  Gives me another reason to not like dogs…especially retreivers.

MISS:  My family and friends.  My in-laws live 45 minutes away.  My parents live 4 hours.  This move considerably increases the distance for both.  My friends…well, we’re all always busy and hardly get to see each other.  Just knowing they’re around is comforting.

– Movin’

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