Refreshed

So how was the trip back to Madisonville? Short. I stopped on the way and splurged on something I have wanted for a while now: A Nikon Coolpix camera. I would never spend the money on one because I tend to lose and/or break digital cameras. I tend to stick with the cheap ones (under $100). But I have coveted this camera for a while, and now it is mine. I love it. The pics from this weekend were all taken with it. The blur of the shot above is because I was playing with different settings on it on the ride home from the boonies.
This was also the first trip we have taken in the new car. I must say it was much more comfortable. The 120 outlet in the console came in handy: I plugged in my laptop, stopped and bought Evan a few dvd's he has been wanting, gave the kid a set of headphones, and the rest is history. It was kind of like that infomercial with the rotisserie: Set it and forget it! He was entertained the whole way, and there were several points in the 4-hour trip where we thought he was asleep because the backseat was too quiet.
We managed to get time in with both John's mom and dad. The boys spent the day Saturday playing with water in the 85 degree weather. Grandma made a run to Walmart for a Slip-and-Slide and some Super Soakers, and I sat on a nice shaded country porch and studied while the boys had a blast. Saturday night was all about some good ol' country cookin'. John's mom made my fave: her fried chicken with homemade mashed potatoes and gravy, cornbread, fresh corn-on-the-cob. For dessert.....homemade banana pudding, baked with the meringue on top like I had never seen done until I maried into this family.

Sunday morning, we met John's dad and his girlfriend Annie for breakfast, then followed him to his house. This is when the redneck came out of my husband and he spent hours fishing for catfish in his dad's pond. Evan got to drive the 1969 model Harley Davidson golf cart with his grandpa helping him, then the guys all loaded onto quads and the cart and chased each other at high speeds around the property. I got the brilliant idea of perching in the sun and studying while they had fun. Bad idea. See the pics in the post entitled "A Weekend in Pictures" to get a glimpse of the sunburn from Hell. To break of the monotony of studying plant diversity and evolution of land plants, John would get me onto the quad and take me zooming around the property. I screamed in his ear everytime he turned to sharply or went up or down steep hills, making me feel as if I were going to fall off of the back. It was just simple fun, but for that brief amount of time, we were just John and Andrea again. The country boy showing the city girl how to unwind, throw caution to the wind, and have fun. At that point, there was no such thing as bills or parenthood, pre-med or code blue, MCAT or 80-hour workweeks. I needed that, and more importantly, without my saying a single word, John knew I needed that.
The ride home Sunday night seemed to go on forever. We stopped at about the midway point, and I picked up some cd's I have been wanting for a little while, and we jammed the entire second half of the trip. I finally realized just how red I had gotten in the sun (it got worse as the night went on) when we stopped at Walmart to get me some aloe gel for my first official sunburn of the year, and other shoppers were stopping and staring at me with mouths agape.

Now I am back home. The plan is to get my finals done. I finished Bio this morning, have another exam this afternoon, and a paper to write. I have three more days off of work, which I am going to spend giving the house a nice and thorough cleaning, and studying ahead a bit for my summer physics course, which is sure to be a nightmare if the textbook is any indication.

When it MUST be Destroyed Overnight....

My father-in-law found this somewhere in Kansas or something and bought it for John. When we met them for breakfast Sunday morning, he slapped it on my car. Notice how road dust shows up really well on Dodge Sunburst Orange paint??? (Note to self: Make John wash the car!)

A Weekend in Pictures

If It Were an Old Clunker, I Wouldn't Care

My car, that is. But it isn't, so I do care...

We are preparing for our trip to see John's family today. So yesterday, John wanted to stop and get the oil changed. (He is obsessed with oil changes, and starts to freak a bit when it goes from 3K miles to 3001 miles between changes.) So the car is due for one, and we are also going to be driving it for 4 hours today, so I agree. What I do not agree with is where he wants to take it. I said dealer. He said no, that we should take it to this discount store chain, who shall remain nameless, as they are cheaper. Not really cheaper, but more convenient because you can do all of your shopping while you wait on your car. I go along with the plan.

So we get the oil changed, and we head back home. I am cleaning the car a little to make it more comfortable for the trip, and John is helping me, when he sees it. A nice fat oil stain in the distinct shape of a handprint. On the headliner by the door. The pale, pale, bone-colored headliner. Of the 2009 car.

I don't even care that I smell like Armor-All at this point. We load back in the car, and John goes in and comes out about 3 minutes later with the store manager. I am standing there, leaning against my car, when they emerge from the store. The store manager lets out a low whistle and tells us how he loves the car and asks if it drives as good as it looks. Are you serious? "Yes it does", I say. "It's brand new." He gets my point and sits in the driver side seat and looks at the stain, telling me how it is better for me that I brought it back right away. All I can think is that these people maimed my car, and that they are not doing me any favors.

The first attempt at a solution is to try to get the guy back at the oil change place to clean it. I watch nervously as he takes a red shop towel to the light fabric. It doesn't come out all of the way. Instead of a handprint, we have a gray smudge there now. He stops, telling me that it is fraying the fabric, and it is going to have to go to a professional, and how the guy who changed my oil has done this countless times, and he isn't even sure how the guy still has a job. (!) Back in the store we go, where the manager tells us they will take care of the damages, that I need to get an estimate and bring it back to him. When I ask if there is any place in particular I should take it, he says he would recommend I take it to the dealer being that it is new.

So now I am in a nightmare. John calls the dealer and speaks to some woman who says she will call back, that they contract all cleaning issues out to this guy in the area. She calls back and talks to me this time, and gives me the number. I must have said something in the conversation that triggered a reaction in her. Apparently John was not clear on the extent of the problem. She didn't know it was a new car, and she didn't realize it was on almost-white fabric. She tells me to call the guy anyway, and then also gives me the number to their body shop, just in case.

Of course the guy tells me that he wouldn't even fool with cleaning it, that I need to take it straight to the body shop or consider dying the headliner. I call the body shop and they are saying that I may have to completley replace the headliner, or I can have the strip of fabric replaced, which would be less of a hassle, but would be just as unsightly as the stain.

All of this is making me wish for the days when I had a junky used car. I wouldn't have cared then.

Ummm That Was Quick

GM declared bankruptcy, what, like Monday? Already, I have seen this commercial too many times to count.

Flip-Flop Weather and a Dreaded Trip

I love this weather. It is 90 degrees out there. Perfect flip-flop weather, and don't think I haven't been rocking the plastic and rubber shoes everywhere I go. I have this massive laundry basket full of them, stuffed in the back corner of the closet, and I have been dying to pull them out.

What else is going on in my world?
School is winding down. Next week is finals week, which I am not exactly excited over. But after burning the candle at both ends for some time now, I finally took a few days off of work. Keeping in mind that I am only obligated to 3 twelves a week, my cashing in some paid-time-off managed to get me off of work for almost 2 weeks. It still isn't a massive vacay. I still have this week left of class, then come back Monday and Tuesday of next week for those dreaded exams. All I know is that for the next 2 weeks, I do not have to do both school and work. Following that, I am off of school for 2 and a half weeks while we switch from Spring to Summer quarters, so then I will only have to do work and not school. Count 'em up! 4 1/2 weeks of one and not the other!

I can honestly say I need the break. For the past month, I have been working all night, then going straight to class the following morning, doing class all day then going straight into work all night. Then I---- you guessed it----head back to campus for a day of class. Finally on the third night, I get a little shut-eye. This is no exaggeration. This is my life. I was actually discussing this with one of the residents at work. He was commenting on my level of tiredness, knowing full well that I intend on heading to med school in a year or so, and said "Just wait until you get into med school!" When I told him I wasn't scared of a med school schedule and explained what I have been doing, his reply was this: "You are INSANE!"

Maybe so. Or maybe it is just determination. More and more people are rallying behind me. To them, I am the one who will make it to the other side. The politics of healthcare dictate that we are the grunts and doctors are the privileged. While I am in no way the poster child, to them I represent the notion that those of us without MD behind our name are still capable individuals. They can say, "Look! She was one of us and she was smart enough to become a doctor, so we can be too." This by no means represents everyone. I still encounter some crap-dishing from some coworkers who think my efforts are directed at proving I am better than they are. The fact that I want more out of my life is a personal assault on their choice of career. Of course this couldn't be farther from the truth. But for the most part, I pass people in the hall, and they will ask me how school is going. When I tell them it is going well, the statement is met with a pat on the back and a hearty "You Go, Girl!".

Part of the plan for my time off is to take John and Evan down to southern Kentucky to visit his family. I am a little nervous about going back there. I am not met by the same resistance I used to face. I've been around for the better part of a decade, and they have realized I am here to stay. But the time we spent living down there is now what I realize to be a different chapter of my life. A chapter full of welfare and stereotypes and North vs. South. I wasn't docile enough. To them, I was the Yankee wife John brought home, the one with the smart mouth who didn't realize a woman's place. While I never played along, I wasn't as out-there with my intentions of higher education and my drive for a career. Now, John and I have returned to my turf where I have adjusted to being myself again. Here, there is nothing wrong with a woman seeking achievement. But to make matters worse, John's sister is having a baby shower, full of church women, and I know it will provoke the inevitable questions about our intent for our family. To them, it will incomprehensible that I want to forgo having other children in order to pursue my education, that I focus on my career instead of perfecting my recipe for the perfect fried chicken. They will never understand that one child, my perfect little Evan, is more than I could ever want, and now that he is in grade school, it is time for me. They will look at me as if I have two heads, and whisper amongst themselves of the brazen woman who thinks she can have it all.

And John. They will, as always, compare John to his brother-in-law. The greatest thing one can aspire to be is an employee at the local electric company. It is not that there is anything wrong with the job.More like what is wrong with John that he wants to skip out on punching a clock in order to support his wife's ambitions? What kind of failure allows his wife to be the breadwinner? We deal with it everytime, and I know they mean well, but I cannot tolerate anyone criticizing my husband because he is helping me to realize my dream.

But nevertheless, we are going. And rude or not, I am taking my study materials and will have my nose in books the entire time. This will evoke the dreaded question: Didn't you already finish one degree? And I will tell them that I am back in school to be a doctor. God help me.

Anyhow...I am wasting too much time here on a computer. It is now time to take the kiddo out and let him get some sunshine while I study with my flip-flopped feet propped up, complete with the hot-pink polish on my toes that I whipped out especially for flip-flop season.

A Few Tidbits From Today's Lecture in Women's History

Equal Rights Amendment
Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United
States or by any State on account of sex.
The Congress shall have the power to enforce, by appropriate legislation, the
provisions of this article
This amendment shall take effect two years after the date of ratification.

States that did not ratify the Equal Rights Amendment
Alabama
Illinois
Arizona
Louisiana
Arkansas
Mississippi
Florida
Missouri
Georgia
Nevada
North Carolina
Oklahoma
South Carolina
Utah
Virginia

1980: Jerry Falwell Condemns the ERA
"The Equal Rights Amendment strikes at the foundation of our entire social structure. If
passed, this amendment would accomplish exactly the opposite of its outward claims. By
mandating an absolute equality under the law, it will actually take away many of the
special rights women now enjoy. ERA is not merely a political issue, but a moral issue as
well. A definite violation of holy Scripture, ERA defies the mandate that 'the husband is
the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church' (Ep. 5:23). "


Is Jerry Falwell even alive now?? He can come stay at my house, then look me in the face and tell me that "the husband is the head of the wife". Are we morally corrupt because I want to be treated the same as a man? ( Yes, the same!) Put women in the draft. Make us register for selective service. I'll wield an M-16. Put us in office. We'll get things done. This whole issue sickens me, and I have to write a paper over why the ERA was never ratified. Great!