Magazine street shopping, Sucree gelato and macaron sampling, then a perfect cupcake from "Bee Sweet Cupcakes" to end a Saturday. So this is what it feels like to be young and carefree... not bad at all. :)

Blogging... disappointment.

Disappointment in others is really disappointment in myself. Why did I not do better, especially since deep down, I know better. So much easier to point fingers when the only person I should be disappointed in is me. And I was... I am... but now I must get over it before I seriously hurt my self-esteem. All of which is much needed when I start my intern year in June.

If something else has to absorb the residual frustration of the "B" situation, I blame it on the craziness of this year. Being back to NO after four months of away rotations, realizing I was still carrying the remembrances of a ghost that left long ago, I NEEDED a distraction! Of course I knew it would end no other way. But, as one of my favorite movies quoted: Surprisingly wonderful things can happen, even late in the game.

I wanted it to apply to me so badly.

But... something wonderful did happen, just not the form I wanted.

As far as THAT's concerned... its a whole different game... and I'm not late at all.

I should have posted the result of Match Day two days ago, but I couldn't imagine describing it coherently on paper. My excitement was uncontainable and radiated every which way. I must have hugged a million people and floated so high on a cloud it was actually VISIBLE.

Seriously! One stranger said -- you look like you're floating on a cloud! I told her I AM!

I don't think I actually believed that envelop could spell out my number one choice. I know people told me it would... but I never got my hopes up. If I didn't get it, eventually the disappointment would be all mine to swallow. And I didn't know if I could... in public... surrounded by happy people. But little did I know that I would be the happiest of them all! (I really might be...)

My excitement may seem naive... even to me. After all, the hardest part hasn't even started. But the past four years have not exactly been a walk in the park, and the many pep talks I have given and received never completely erased the sense of... doubt? Then Thursday happened. And I don't doubt anymore. Good things and bad things happen, who knows what the next three year holds. But one thing is for sure, I really am blessed. So I'm gong to be obliviously happy, even if just for this extended weekend.

Should I put on make up now and let it sit on my face for a couple of hours, or should I wait awhile so it has the fresh glow that I can never purposely create, but sometimes appears effortlessly when I look sideways? My hair I will have to blow dry soon, before the clip creates a permanent kink and strips any possibility of "volume".

These are the hard questions I content myself with on the morning of "Match Day". To ponder on the harder questions takes me dangerously close to sulking and pessimism, which I do not want to trudge into just yet. My violin teacher said wherever I go, it's up to me what I turn the experience into. There is truth to it. I turned medical school and New Orleans into a place (in life and in this world) that I'm sad to leave. Is that my doing or a stroke of luck? After four years of being uncomfortable in my own skin, the universe decides to throws me a bone and give me some friends that will love me no matter what... I believe people call it "unconditional".

Whatever the envelope holds, I'm leaving New Orleans for sure. It's good to leave when I have so much fondness for the city, when there are still stores and restaurants I want to explore, when even the shady neighborhoods (and there are many) I look onto with hopeful expectations. I have waited a long time to begin buying fleur de lis memorabilia. Nothing crazy, like a door mat... something more subtle, like subliminal messages of happiness that I can leave all over my new apt.

Would it be narcissistic of me to say that there is nothing ordinary about my life because of all the extraordinary people in it?

I hope not, because driving home from Baton Rouge at 10pm last night, I felt like the luckiest person in the whole world. I was so grateful to spend the day with my host family and old roommates that I, momentarily, made peace with all the current anguish in my life - Match Day anxiety and all.

I have been looking forward to cook dinner for my host family, whom I haven't seen since last September... to surprise Randy with an early birthday cake, to test out Michelle's recipe for the most moist Amaretto Chocolate Cake, to catch St. Patrick's Day parade with Laura... I missed the house, the lake, the kitchen, the long driveway with its canopy of pine trees, my amazing host family, Mark and Mary-Anne, being together with the girls under one roof, dashing around the kitchen looking for pots and pans, and praying Elaine's unpredictable oven pulls through.

As soon as I stepped into the house, I knew where everything is. I pulled open the fridge and pantry closet checking stock, noting what we need to buy to make dinner and what they already have. I leaned my elbow against the cool marble counter, thinking of the old one that split down the middle when I put hot biscuits on top (I was reassured a million times that I didn't break it, it was already broken)... I sat down by the kitchen table, thinking of all the times I sat there to study, to stare at the lake, to pretend to study, to day dream, to cry over boys...

It was 55 degrees and raining. The St Patrick's day parade route was filled with people. I kept maybe three beads and gave the rest to Randy and Elaine's grand kids (who, in turn, gave me a stuffed tiger football with a tail). The bean dip made my stomach turn. Laura and I ran through the rain and an empty golf course to get back to the car. We were so drenched and cold she couldn't feel her hands and my mascara ran down my face (which doesn't happen even when I cry during movies)... But can I tell you, honestly, I had a BLAST.

Laura's Pork Chop with Orange Soy Glaze and Udon Noodles was so delicious, even when Whole Foods runs out of Udon Noodles and we had to substitute with fettuccine. And I was so grateful she calmly took over the entree so I can concentrate on my roasted potato and mushroom salad with mascarpone (Fine Cooking, Feb/March 2009) and Parmesan-roasted cauliflower (Barefoot Contessa at Home, 2006), which also turned out amazing. We also made mango salsa, which Laura tells people is a Tian invention. :)

At end of the night, Randy told me to keep the house key, so I can come home whenever I want.

This is yet. A Chocolate Amaretto Cake so moist and delicious that it lives up to the beautiful shape of the Williams and Sonoma bundt cake mold. This mold is so distractingly beautiful I have to bath in the compliments for a full minute (or more) before admitting that, no, I didn't chisel out the swirl one by one... But like I said, the cake is so good it doesn't even matter.

Libbie's Chocolate Amaretto Cake

1 package (18.25 ounces) plain devil's food cake mix

1 package (3.9 ounces) chocolate instant pudding mix

1/2 Cup vegetable oil

3/4 C whole milk

1/2 C water

1/4 C mayonnaise (can you believe it?!)

4 large eggs

1/4 C amaretto liqueur

1 tsp pure almond extract

1 C semisweet chocolate chips

Confectioner's sugar for garnish

1. Place rack in center of oven and preheat to 350 F. Mist 12 C bundt pan with veg oil spray and dust with flour. Shake out excess.

2. Place cake mix, pudding mix, milk, oil, water, mayo, eggs, amaretto, and almond extract in large bowl. Blend on low for 1 min. Scrape down sides. Increase speed and mix another 2 minutes more. Fold in chocolate chips. Pour into pan and smooth out.

3. Bake till cake springs back when lightly pressed, 53 to 56 minutes. Cool pan on rack for 20 minutes Invert and cool on rack.

4. Dust with powdered sugar or glaze.

They're pretty accurate with the baking time. Don't over bake!

I'm about to take the last test of my medical school career, I thought this moment is blog-worthy. The impending sense of doom and the butterflies in my stomach are all very familiar, like bad streets I've been forced to walk down too many times. Let's hope I make it through unscathed.

There are many "soft spots" in my heart; a special one is reserved for peacocks. They remind me of my grandfather and Sunday mornings all dressed up to go to the zoo. He said if I wear pretty dresses, the peacocks would be envious and spread their own feathers. I remember spinning around in front of their cage, showing off my dress, willing them to do the same...

When I saw these note cards in BnN, I had to get them... Just like the peacock dress from Banana, just like the peacock hair clip from China...

I met a boy with the cutest smile. The kind that elicits a mirrored happiness so spontaneous and true. I turn my head in his direction every chance I get and step into his path even when mine should not cross, only to see that smile once more. Just as quickly though, he turns the corner, walks away. Sometimes we turn our heads at the same time and I feel like the star in a French movie... minus the mist, minus the rain. But as he disappears out of sight I ask myself only one question -- did I just imagine that?

There is a certain sadness in reading old entries. I always try to recall the "past me" and compare it with the present. What changed? What hasn't? I find that my writing was so much more personal back then. I dared to put it out there more, not afraid to be corny. Now, I'm more guarded and aware. Just the other day I peeled off the Hello Kitty band aid because it seems not age-appropriate or work-appropriate or some other kind of inappropriateness (sorry, Maria).

Do you ever wonder how other people see you? I have this secret fear that I am completely off base when it comes to my perception of the persona I present forth every day. Of course I have asked my friends... but their answers are superficial. Maybe they don't want to tell me the truth. Maybe I tune out the truth because I don't want to accept it. Last night my friend said -- you're like a princess. What the ****?! I think he said it without giving it any thought, unaware of the effect it would have on me. I hate it when people do that!

I haven't studied for a test in quite awhile, dating back to Step II in September. That is why this Saturday morning, confronted by the upcoming Neurology exam next Friday, I find myself in an unfamiliar state of mind.

Am I... anxious about procrastinating?

I uploaded onto Facebook all the pictures I have been thinking of uploading, baked some short bread cookies, looked for cake recipes for my friend's birthday next week, dusted my computer keyboard, changed my blog format, updated my blog, re-read old blogs, and almost painted my finger nails...

Bobbie Flay was making mussels and fries (moules frites) on Throwdown yesterday and it only intensified my perpetual craving for mussels and fries. Since I can't drive to Houston for Cafe Rabelais or visit DC's Granville Moore, I called my friend for the closest best-thing: Cafe Degas. A most romantic French Bistro with covered balcony, twinkle lights, candles, and fresh flowers on every table. Nothing like harmless gossip and skinny, long golden fries dipped in savory fennel broth to chase away any weekday blue.