Oct 29, 2012

How did I happen to get married in San Francisco?  It's hard to say.  I think it all started when my friend Linda told me about these amazing wedding photographers based in SF.  I started looking at their website obsessively, specifically the San Francisco City Hall pictures!  Then one day, I was working nights, and my colleague pointed to the website and said - that could be you!!  Delirious from sleep deprivation, I thought - why not.  I went home the next day, used my last three PTO for the year, paid the $500 deposit, and booked Alex and Alex for one Monday morning wedding!

The only problem was... S hasn't even proposed!

This was some time in August... For the next month and half, I somehow found a wedding dress, expanded the wedding photo package to include a videographer, and got S to propose!

The rest is history.

All Photos by IQ photo

 

 

And they lived happily ever after.

I had a sneaky feeling all along that I overdid it with this apartment.  It wasn't until today, when it took six hour and three (big) people to pack it all up that my suspicion was confirmed.

Three years ago I moved into the first place to call my own.   At first I just wanted two things -- a vogue subscription with my name/address and a yellow Le Creuset.  Somehow I allowed myself to drill 20+ nails into the walls, hanging everything from over priced pottery barn frames, to drawings from Sips and Strokes.  I filled every inch of the tiny kitchen with indispensable tools- two big jars of spatulas and ice cream scoopers.

All this meant that everyday I lived here, it was a place I loved.  A place I was sad to leave on overnight calls and happy to return after long trips.  And as I stood by the door of the now empty rooms, I said a long goodbye and mentally embraced my lovely home.  It's been a good three years and as much as I counted down the days, I'm sad to see it end.

Tomorrow is the last day of MICU. Thank you for making this a three week rotation instead of four (or five). I will try not to complain about clinic because misery is all relative.

The month flew by, but here and there I left the hospital and got a little excited about life... Such as when...

- Steve was away for two entire weeks in Vietnam and I got comfortable with Skype. Instead of going to London+Paris, I now want to go East for my fabulous vacation...

- for the time being, however, I'll settle for DC in November. I secretly booked Steve's favorite hotel and didn't tell him. Instead I made up a "fake" hotel and poor him has been planning metro routes around this "fake" hotel.

- Before this week ends, I should get my contract for my first real job! Very excited...

- Romantic picnic in the park, rowing around on a canoe... Very surreal. Totally worth saving up two days to have the golden weekend.

- Navy blue peacoat with gold buttons... yummy...

- Linda N is having a baby! My new favorite intern is having a baby! The girl down the street is having a baby!

- Baby R Us is magical!

- First moonlighting gig coming up. How else could I afford the fabulous hotel with the fabulous peacoat? Don't feel sorry for me... at least I have a way to make some extra cash.

The end... for now...

MICU today. Hope I don't miss fall...

I saw a girl wearing brown boots today! First boots I spotted this season. The weather forecast for the weekend ahead promises cooler weather, and I dream of my own boots slumbering away in their boxes. Still... not sure how she thinks she can get away with tall leather boots in 85+ degree weather, except that she works within the air conditioned confines of Anthropologie, where everything is magical, and anything goes.

The past 2.5 hours had me spinning with frustration.

It didn't help that today is the end of my one week vacation with my parents, leaving them always stir up worries and uncertainties that I'm never strong enough to confront. But on Saturday, I had Steve to look forward to. And poor him, always a ready distraction for all my present woos.

Then saying goodbye to Steve today... a different set of worries and uncertainties altogether. I know he thinks I'm a drama queen (and actually proved it by putting a pink, feathery, glittery "drama queen" crown on my head in a costume shop today), especially during our weekly departures. Some days I'm extra pathetic, and actually become snotty and puffy eyed from crying. Today, the sadness of leaving my parents on Saturday + leaving him Sunday paralyzed me in his condo through an extra episode of Chopped. Thus the late departure, thus the extra frustration for the past 2.5 hours (which can be summed up by saying I HATE automated phone messages and I HATE FEMA).

September 11th. I'm hardly qualified to write anything about that day, given how remote and disconnected I was to the events when they happened. A college student in Texas with no TV... all I remember is how my class was the only one not cancelled. That's not to say I wasn't shocked or horrified, but second hand emotions... so easily shrugged off. This morning when I watched MSNBC re-broadcast the images, I wonder how I went all these years without seeing them beginning to end, but is anything ever the same again?

Shhhh.... don't tell anyone... but I've been googling wedding venues and wedding photographers and wedding dresses (most of all, wedding dresses). It's not that I'm about to get married, but it's also not that I'm NOT about to get married. Who can tell these things really. The inspiration is a set of beautiful wedding photographs in Santorini that took my breath away...

http://www.iqphoto.com/destination/

So far, my plan is to spend all my money on A) the dress and B) the photographer, and skip the wedding part all together. And as long as I'm allowed to be selfish (on my blog, at least), I will fly my favorite wedding photographer from San Francisco to wherever I am...

And the dress. I've always wanted a Carrie Bradshaw meets Christian Lacroix meets Vera Wang creation with angles and dimensions, the kind of lacy whiteness that makes the average person's head spin. This deep rooted imagery is completely changed by Linda Lee, whose own simple and ever so elegant wedding dress made me think -- why so big?

http://www.junshien.com/6370/

I don't have a dress yet. Is it true when you see it, you know it? It's still too early. After all, I'm not really looking...

My favorite sweet and tangy shrimp, except this version is jazzed up by lobster meat! Long slices of green onion, ginger, and garlic sauteed until you can smell its fragrance in the air. Then a splash of soy sauce with a spoonful of sugar later - the most amazing shrimp. It is best with the heads on, of course, but good luck finding those!

SSI

My first weekend home with Steve. Never knew my parents could be so hospitable. Always knew Steve could be so charming. He felt, oddly enough, like he belongs here, in a space that has never seen the likes of him.

A lot of cooking! A lot of watching my mom cook. A lot of memorizing the details of this house and this life that I'm so rarely apart of.

Yet, when I am here, I am home.

Certain roles can't be claimed. One can't just put a name down, sign up, stand in line. Every silence is filled with reluctance... to yield. It says: don't be persistent... please.

So let it go.

Because first... do no harm.

Because if I didn't, it will become about me... and "us"

Because we all deserve the right to sulk, in peace.

Because when you stand on the outside, you can't talk yourself in.

A tiny shift to the right

Edged in sideways.

In one glance

"Life" strangely undisturbed.

But look from the inside out

The loss

of an empty space.

What is the proper number of kisses

For a man to leave this world?

The average depth of melancholy?

The approximate wetness of hope?

- Max Garland

(from Catfish and Mandala by Andrew X. Pham)

I made it through my intern year without shedding a single tear at work. There was this one drive home after another hard day at the VA when my face was a bit wet and the exit off the highway a bit blurry... At the end of most days, and definitely the end of every month when I leave a rotation, I can say without a doubt - I like my job. Not "love" with all its passion and thrill, but a quiet contentment and the feeling of "no regrets". With second year halfway over, I have to make some serious decisions about "life". It seems that I am at a crossroads. Here I find myself uncertain of who I am and what I want.

It is easy to say - be yourself... "Myself" has been a shifting concept, an unstable image based mostly on the refection I see through the eyes of others. How I feel about myself depends entirely too much on which direction I look and whose eyes I look into. Is this why I choose to surround myself with people who love me, and avoid those with fleeting glances that say - you're not important? The truth is when I opened this neglected blog and read some earlier entries, it was the first time in a long time that I felt a sense of "me". I suppose that's why I decided to stamp 2011 into my blog. After alllll these years, "Expecting Flight" is still such a fitting title.

Banana Coconut Loaf Cake

Invest in a good loaf pan, it will motivate you to delve into all the loaf cake recipes that scream "good morning"! I love my red Emile Henry with scalloped edges so much I would make this cake everyday if I had everlasting supply of ripe bananas and sour cream.

Banana Coconut Loaf Cake

1/3 C sunflower oil (I substitute with canola)

1 and 3/4 C all purpose flour

1 and 1/2 tsp baking powder

1 C superfine sugar (superfine is lighter, you can actually put granulated sugar in a mini blender and give it a swirl to make it superfine)

2/3 C shredded coconut

2 eggs, slighted beaten

2 ripe bananas, mashed

1/2 C sour cream

1 tsp vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 350

2. Blend (or sift if you have time) the flour, baking powder, and sugar together. Add to it the oil, eggs, sour cream, vanilla extract and mix until roughly blend.

3. Fold in the bananas and coconut

4. Bake covered with foil for ~45 min. Remove the foil and bake another ~15 or so. The loaf cake is done with it bounces back and feels firm with you press down the top.

No more goofing around, must get down to work. I have been very lenient with myself. After a 30 hour call day and 4 hour nap, I have not looked up Rituxan or Blasto. Instead, I have poured over recipes for a dinner party I'm going to this Friday. Originally bread pudding souffle is an obvious choice, considering my recent meringue kick, the 2 dozen eggs in my fridge, and that it's one of the BEST dessert I've EVER tasted. But... I don't trust myself with meringue at a meringue-naive kitchen. Whisking egg whites with someone else's mixer is too risky. So, instead, I will stick to my favorite bread pudding recipe:
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/emeril-lagasse/banana-walnut-bread-pudding-with-buttery-rum-sauce-recipe/index.html

Gym Day 1 since ??? My new attending likes to run up the flights of stairs, race to the patient's room, stand there and stare at me while I try to catch my breath/form complete sentences. That's simply reason 1/ a million to drag myself to the gym. Mostly... almost entirely... it's my father's partly stern, partly coercive voice telling me to exercise, excercise, exercise. It is why I never missed kickboxing in college, started cycling in med school, and months after not touching the gym this intern year, went back on the trend mill post call today. It's also why I firmly believe no matter how many exercise-less ruts I get into, I will always find my way back to a routein.

Besides... there is that blue strapless dress I need to wear...

10 pm. Too late to study. Maybe tomorrow...

French Chocolate Almond Macaroons (adapted from recipe by Carole Walter)

This is the mother recipe. A good place to start. After having tried the colorful variation, this original version tastes better, is easier to make, and has a higher chance of success (and every bit counts). The best part, I think, is even when you mess up and the little macaroon does not puff up smoothly landed on their little padded "feet", they're still delicious!

After you taste them straight from the oven, you'll think -- these are perfect, who needs chocolate to go in between! Melt the chocolate! It's even better with them. The gooey center contrasts with the airy meringue.

Oooo, now I can't wait to try them, Trial #3.

1 scant cup slivered, blanched almonds (about 4 1/2 ounces)
2 C strained confectioners' sugar, divided, spooned in and leveled
3 tbsp strained dutch-processed cocoa powder
3 large egg whites, at room temperature
1/8 tsp salt
Ganache filling (google-able)

Heat oven to 325 F.
Dab corners of baking pans lightly with butter, line with parchment, and butter the parchment.
Place almonds with 1 C confectioners' sugar and the cocoa in a large bowl. Pulse mixture in food processor to combine, then pulse for about one minute. Should be very powdery. Set aside.
[I substituted with 1 C almond flour mixed with 1 C confectioners' sugar]
Whip egg whites on medium speed until frothy. Add sat and beat until firm peaks form. Add remaining 1 C of sugar, 1 tbsp at a time, taking about 2 min. Scrap down bowl as needed. Then beat 1 min longer until stiff and shiny.
Place the nut mixture in a large-gauge strainer and sprinkle over meringue in 5 or 6 additions, folding with large rubber spatula. Discard any large pieces of nuts.
Empty meringue into 18-inch pastry bag fitted with a #805 or 1/2 inch piping tube. Spoon meringue in. Pipe 1 inch dots onto the prepared cookie sheets.
Smooth tops of dots with barely moistened fingertips. Let dry 20 to 30 min. Then Bake one sheet at a time, for about 10 min or until JUST SET! Tops should be smooth. [good luck with that…]

Remove form oven, let rest for 1 to 2 min.
Sandwich ganache between two halves!

The bottom two web sites are good resources, you should read them before you start! Wish I had...

http://www.davidlebovitz.com/archives/2005/10/french_chocolat.html
http://www.davidlebovitz.com/archives/2008/09/making_french_macarons.html

At this point, is it too late to figure out who I am. Are there still surprises that lay ahead of me, not trivial but life-changing events that can alter the direction of my life. When I read A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg, that is what I think of. To spend the day aerating her flour and write about it... That is not me (or is it).

I have another book my desk: A Writer's Workbook by Caroline Sharp. I have no intention of "working it up", just reading it for pleasure and inspiration (since it is recommended by Elizabeth Gilbert). I also have dozens of journal articles, TH emails, and a chapter on lupus awaiting my attention. Are my diverting interests conflicting or harmonious? Will they make me a more wholesome person or tare me in a thousand different directions?

That remains to be seen...

One of these day, my luck will run out and I will have to work with someone I don't like for a whole month! But for now, there is still a light over me, and my upper level is ever so calm and methodical, while I am so scattered. She is a new mom, is that why she has such a glow? I'll stick close to her, and maybe some of whatever it is will rub off.

A lovely book came in the mail for me today written by a foodie/writer. It's a surprise sent from a fellow foodie/writer friend who considers me a committed foodie/writer as well. What a compliment! I do still dream of that double life... I come home from a long day of work and flip through "food and wine", even though there are no ingredients in my fridge or time in my schedule to make anything. Not the green pea risotto, not the tangerine glazed chicken, not even the homemade granola bars... But, there is still the dream of leading a double life. MD by day, foodie/writer by night...

My lastest baking endeavor is the following Easter macaroon. It is less than perfect, to be kind. When they're smoothly domed in the oven, I smiled with pride. But when they cracked/wrinkled/bursted on my carefully buttered parchment paper, my heart fell a little. I didn't throw any away though, but sandwiched chocolate between all but the most damaged ones and brough them to a dinner party. My friends didn't mind. Beauties like these cannot be wasted, even when baked a little past their prime.

A week in the Georgian coast... what did I do?

In the past seven days, I baked and shipped cookies to two special people- one as a birthday present, the other because he is so brave to come all alone to a new country. Made two of my favorite chocolate bundt cakes for my mom to give to her neighbors. Cooked the famous spaghetti/meatball recipe for my dad as I promised, with enough left overs to re-simmer and re-heat long after I've left. Tried a new crabcake recipe with really good result and is easily replicable on my own. I also watched a Chinese miniseries (蜗居）which noticeably improved my Chinese and temporarily shifted my focus to imaginary plots that are more captivating than my own drama... But what I shouldn't forget, and won't forget, is how my mom got up early this morning to make freshly steamed 包子for me before I left. She knows it's my favorite, and bc I've been hogging the kitchen all week there simply wasn't space, on the dinner table or in my stomach, to fit it in. So I woke up to the sound of her in the kitchen today, and sure enough, they were ready for lunch with enough to come home with me.


Back to reality... whatever that means. Sometimes my life is so odd it is down right surreal...

Morning walk on the beach minutes away from the house...

I'm home!

It doesn't look like home yet, half of the materialistic landmarks are still in St. Louis. My favorite painting, my dragonfly curtain, the copper and glass table... not here. Possibly, most unfortunately, alarmingly... my heart isn't here either... Having endured 2 weeks of ED and coming home for the first time since June, I want nothing more than to immerse myself in this beautiful kitchen with a wooden counter thick enough to be a chopping board!

But I can't... yet... People always say don't make decisions when you're angry... I wonder if the same can be said about all extremes of emotion. Don't make decisions when you're heartbroken. Don't make decisions when you can't see clearly past the sadness. Don't make decisions when there is a small voice of reason that once in awhile breaks through all your chaotic remembrances and tell you to -- let it go.

Hang on to that voice... it's the only thing that has the possibility of leading you to somewhere safe.

I went three ER shifts without a single admission, then last night, two for my fellow intern/resident on GI. The second one was called at 4:30am. I felt so guilty I would have done the admission for him myself. The worst part, however, was the call to the GI fellow prior. Yes, I can see the irritation from her point of view -- being woken up at 4 AM and not for an admission, but a complicated management question. BUT, there is never a need to be an *** to your colleagues. She should know an intern would never call a fellow (esp at that hour) unless it were supported by the team/attending. Of course it was my attending who insisted on the call. She said - you're a clinician too; you should be able make the medical decision. If that were the case, then why do we need specialists?

The worst worst part is that I like this fellow. She is odd, but there is nothing wrong with being odd. There is, however, something wrong with being an A****. I wonder if I should be so friendly the next time I run into her. Sigh... Whatever, I'll just do what feels right at the moment. That seems to be all I can do these days.

Not looking forward to tonight. Sick of the ED. Sick of taking two showers a day. Sick of leaving home in pitch dark and going to sleep when the rest of the world is waking up...

Sat night 10 hour ER shift:

8:50 pm: The hospital lobby is nearly empty. If I ignore the strange people in PJ's carrying around sleeping bags, it is not so different from my morning walk. Dark out, bright in, I walk past Starbucks with hope... if only... The first people I see get my best 'good morning' smile. Unfortunately I also verbalize it out loud and immediately feel like a retard.

10 hrs to go...

11 pm: Cute resident, Nice attending... Maybe it won't be a bad night. 40 ppl in ED! Why aren't they at home watching oprah's Oscar special??? We have two 3rd year medical students; they don't talk much and I'm too new to be chatty. Ohhhh... I want to be third years... just for awhile.

3:30 am: A blur of charts, pts, dictations. My throat hurts. Many water bottle refills, many trips to the bathroom. Must talk sparingly now. I get so pale in the middle if the night. All the color just drains out of my cheeks. If not for a little eyeshadow, I would look like death. Checking my email without thinking... old habbit...

3.5 hrs to go

4:21am: time is sllooowwing down. Spend 10 min flushing an eye with saline... just to get out a sweater fuzz. Don't ask me why he couldn't just rub it out... The wife is really cute. I would admire how cute they are together except he smokes. That ruins it all... I can see it now, lung cancer in 10 years. She might even get it first... Second hand smoke... Selfishness, stupidity, *bad word, bad word*

I phone battery halfway down...

6:09 am: awaiting ct results for a poor little lady with sore throat. She cried when I touched her neck. The resident said I could do another admission if I want. Uhmmm... Sure I do. I'm dying to do another admission that's sure to make my shift go over.

I miss my team...

6:31 am: Still waiting for the ct... will not leave on time. That is the problem with this count down, the clock does not have the final say.

I miss my team...

2:00 pm Oscar night: post shower, post nap, post oatmeal... Turned on the TV and there is Keira Knightly in that emerald green gown... ahhh, that's my inspiration gown for the day.

Thursdays with Julia

It's presumptuous to give this blog entry such a presuming title, but I couldn't resist. Thursdays with Julia sounds like a tradition, rather than a first time endeavor inspired by watching Julie and Julia. One thing is for sure, there will not be cooking of the boeuf bourguignon caliber every Thursday (or cooking at all, for that matter). But... for now... here is to tradition:



A little messy? But this is JULIA's boeuf bourguignon. My friend and I didn't eat dinner until ~10 pm. The 3 cups of red wine is not subtle, especially when one opens the oven door to stir the pot -- the Swift of alcohol mixed with the hot oven says stand back! It also says I'm not ready yet...

Straight from the oven, bubbling in the dutch pot, this dish is heartwarming. I was lucky to share it with a friend, who googled for the original recipe and studied it many times over before we started to sear the bacon. But, this is also the dish for the meals I eat alone, on my sofa or by my desk... It will fill up all the empty spaces, inside and out.

http://www.oprah.com/food/Boeuf-Bourguignon

I don't blog like I should, uncertain which thoughts are too personal to share and which are too trivial... But if I did blog about today, this is what I would say:

Today is my last day at the VA. I was the last one to leave the team room and it made me sad turning off the light and walking away for the last time this year... All the mornings I walked into that room so dark except for the floating 'windows' sign on the three computers side by side, a long wooden table deceptively clean of dust and clutter... until I turn on the light. The next time I see my team, it will be a hurried hello and goodbye while breezing past each in the hallway. Nevertheless, I will remember... how I counted on them to make me laugh every single day this month.

This has been an especially hard month, for reasons DEFINITELY too personal to recount here. If not for my co-workers, I would have put my head down and cried over my computer many many times. Even so, it was still hard to swirl out of the chair and work with a clean slate of mind. Some days I put on my white coat with decided determination -- I WILL not let this affect my work. I will NOT let this strain my smile in the morning.

I've been here before... walking away and leaving the door ajar. Last time I had to turn back and slam the door. Only then can I let time heal, as only time could. BUT, that was then, this is now. I am THAT much more mature, that much more aware, that much more appreciative of the special people in my life. Friends I have, laughter I can find, but that special connection, no matter in what form, is still rare and hard to come by. To shut the door on that? I can't do it... not yet.

Julie and Julia is lovely!!! So lovely that my best friend and I will be attempting the boeuf bourguignon this week. Of course I will be blogging about that. :)

Surprise Sunday off. My co-intern volunteered to see my one patient today so that I can get an extra day off this month... So nice.

I baked the morning away. Carefully following a recipe to the T, which I confess I haven't been doing lately. Martha Stewart's banana-chocolate chip-walnut cookie recipe I whisked together in one hurried minute... Not taking care to press down the brown sugar or level off my flour. But today... listening to John Mayer's "Heart of Life", I wanted to pay the deserved attention to my new cook book -- Great Cookies by Carole Walter. This book was recommended by my attending, who told me that she is the guru of all cookie gurus!

Tomorow, I will bring the yumminess to my team at the VA. I enjoy most of my co-workers, but my team this month has been particularly wonderful. They have made me laugh countless times when I felt like bursting into tears right in front of the computer. I suppose I shouldn't bring my personal life to work, but sometimes my personal life can't be drowned out by determination or fatigue. Just as I am about to put my head down and surrender under a cloud of sadness, they tease me with a silly joke and I laugh! Not out of politeness, but because... as John Mayer put it... "circle of your friends, will defend the silver lining."

Coconut Chocolate Devils. Great Cookies by Carole Walter

2 (2/3) C sweetened coconut flakes (17 ounce bag)

1/2 C all purpose flour

1/4 strained cocoa powder

1/4 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 C unsalted butter

6 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped

3 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped

3 large eggs

1 (1/3) superfine sugar

2 tsp pure vanilla extract

1/4 tsp pure almond extract

1. Preheat oven to 350. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper.

2. Pulse coconut in food processor 6 to 8 times or until medium chopped. Set aside

3. Strain together flour, cocoa, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.

4. Melt butter in a bowl set over simmering water (make sure bowl does not touch water). Add chopped bittersweet/ unsweet chocolates to melted butter and stir together over simmering water, till they just melt. Remove from heat, keep warm.

5. Beat eggs until light, gradually add superfine sugar, taking about 2 min. Stop mixer and pour in butter/chocolate mixture, mix together until just combined. Add vanilla/almond extract.

6. Reduce mixer speed and mix in dry ingredients.

7. Let batter rest ~5 minutes, until it begins to thicken. Then sprinkle handfuls of coconut over batter, folding with spatula. You can fold in as thoroughly (or not) as you please.

8. Drop teaspoons of cookie until sheet, 2 inches apart. Bake ~10 minutes, until just set. They are still soft to the touch and will firm as they cool. Rest for 1-2 min before transfer to cool on racks.

Don't over bake, they come out soft in the middle like brownies :)

I have something to say. It's my audience that makes me pause, make my words hesitate at the edge of my fingertips. Why write if I can't be more than honest? Why keep a blog if I can't chronicle the most insignificant details of my life...

Xiao ming, this cookie recipe is for you. Thank you for being ever so encouraging of everything I do -- writing, baking, doctoring... :)

I wish I had taken a picture, but unfortunately I was too busy eaying them all. The cookie is simple but special bc of the banana. Let me know how it turns out!

http://www.marthastewart.com/portal/site/mslo/menuitem.aced15a43a1d10e593598e10d373a0a0/?vgnextoid=09bc4c27e145b110VgnVCM1000003d370a0aRCRD&vgnextchannel=2357a68e577fe010VgnVCM1000003d370a0aRCRD&vgnextfmt=print&currentslide=1&page=1

The mountain behind my apartment has new colors-- shades of green, gold, brown and maple depending on the light. If it was good Feng Shui before, I'm expecting even better flow of energy this time of the year, when everything is particularly beautiful and crisp. The rain and tornado warnings last night have yielded to a particularly cold Birmingham morning, the kind that calls me to boil water and make tea even if I have no plans of drinking any. Any other Saturday morning I might have stayed in, but today happens to be Halloween.

(to be continued... Bloody Spaghetti and Bobby Flay's pumpkin bread pudding)

There is something about reading a great book that always makes me think about my own life, how I can weave it into a page-turner. I have been meaning to pick up "the kite runner" the moment I finished "A Thousand Splendid Suns", but the guilt of leisurely reading when I have piles of unfinished journal articles kept me from picking it up.

What a mistake.

The first chapter, no the first sentence, spoke to me like it could have been me telling the story... like it could have been my story. "I became what I am today at the age of twelve..." Coincidence? I love coincidences.

Delightful little scones, another wonderful recipe from Dorie. http://www.parade.com/export/sites/default/food/recipes/parade/123-bake-raisin-scones.html Try it, your mornings will be so happy you did.

Graduation finally happened. Moving into Birmingham finally happened. Finding the PERFECT coffee table finally happened. June 15th is getting closer and closer, and I'm getting more and more nervous.

The things I truly depend on are the things I take for granted... such as my car. Thus it is devastating when something goes wrong.

Something went wrong.

The power steering wheel belt broke Saturday morning, which turned out to be because of a broken harmonic balance. The dealer was closed so I had it towed to a different place, which was mistake number 1. Mistake number 2 was when I couldn't find the button to pop open the hood, showing just how incompetent and car illiterate I am... I may as well have signed a written consent for them to rip me off. Between now and then I receive about three more phone calls telling me how many more parts broke, how much more work/time they need, and how much the price will escalate. Finally I told them to stop everything because I am getting it towed to the dealer... which I did.

I guess the lesson learned here is always get my car to the dealership, eve if they're closed.

Brunch at Surrey's, a small cash-only, hole-in-the-wall restaurant tucked away on the far side of Magazine street, with a line of people waiting out of the door. The decor is floor to ceiling local art; the menu is brunch food with a New Orleans twist; when asked the host how long the wait is he said "forever". It turns out that "forever" is quite worth it because I FINALLY got to eat a "stuffed" french toast, something I've only seen on TV.

And so medical school ends. A word from the dean, a word from the chancellor, and four years concludes as unceremoniously as it began. There is still the cocktail banquet, the precommencement, the commencement... but somehow this last day of classes, and so the end of my life as a student, means more to me. From now on when I see my classmates, it won't be in the same context-- sleepy, tired, hung over... They will be impeccably dressed and ridiculously friendly, completely forgetting that not so long ago they were assigned neurosurgery at W Jeff... and in deep denial that a few weeks from now, all this confetti and celebration will seem like a different lifetime ago.

All the more reason to be happy now!

Piping these cupcakes brought much joy to my heart. When I lined them up on my cooling rack, I almost did a little dance around them. Food and Wine didn't lie, these are fabulous batter and frosting recipes, especially if you are a butter cream frosting kind of person... and I am.

One last week of "classes", except it is unlike any class I've ever known. Filled with medical etiquette, financial planning, medical license... it is thoughtful, practical, applicable, and most importantly, skippable. The strange thing is, my class makes its best effort to make a presence. We fill most seats, bring our computers, ask questions... it's like we all realize this is our last chance to be a student.

A beautiful tart was made for a special birthday last Wednesday night. It was my first time attempting a tart and a wonderful Emeril recipe with a pressed on almond crust means my friend and I didn't have to roll any dough. It was as refreshing as it is beautiful, especially when chilled overnight in the fridge.

I went to my first wedding yesterday! Can't believe I've never been to a wedding either... but it is true. The ceremony took place in a downtown New Orleans Jesuit church, as breathtakingly beautiful as the most beautiful of New Orleanian churches. Pristine and ornate, with rows of wooden pew marked with iron cast Fleur De Li's at each end. Higher than it is wide, the space commands a hushed regalness that only churches can. The bride, walking down the isle with her dad, didn't feel like my classmate at all... but some ethereal creature enshrined in a glossy white gown, so beautiful I can only admire from a far. It is neither cheesy nor cliche, neither ordinary or predictable, but a singularly moving rite of passage that makes me wonder how anyone experienced it could ever consider the d word.

My new apartment has yellow walls, darker than lemon, lighter than dijon. It's the color of sunny egg yolk when whisked with sugar. I looked at three complexes before making a prudent, economic decision to rent not the newest or the largest, but a good compromise of all the things I'm looking for, while still fitting for a poor, heavily in-debt, over worked intern. Yes, that is the role I am all ready to play.

I almost bought a house today.

"Almost"... as in I got on the phone with a realtor, asked around about the interest rate, calculated some down payments, looked at floor plans, and seriously tried to imagine myself the owner of a piece of land (plus more).

As it turns out, my soon to be new city does not have a good rental market at all, esp close to the hospital. My friend, who was so damn determined to live in the same apt complex with me, was there for 2 hours before she called a realtor and bought a house in ONE day. She said to me -- I suggest you do the same. Simple as that... like buying a windbreaker. She couldn't begin to understand (and I can't begin to explain to her) how UNprepared I am to buy a house. It's not even about the lack of money in my bank account, or that I've only spend 48 hours in the city, or that I've never even paid for my own electricity let alone a mortgage...

No... it's not about that about all. It's about the deep unsettled feeling of dread that I am sure is what people refer to as the 6th sense. It's about needing to know that I am, still, free and unattached. It's about knowing that I am not ready to be attached... to a house... to a city... before I find someone special to share that house and city with. It's about not tearing down my back up plan-- when times get really bad I can always say to myself, it's only three years. I don't need a lawn and real neighbors and extra bedrooms to remind me that I own more than a kitchen aid in my new city

Also, when I do buy a house, I want to be over the moon excited, not feel like someone just enlisted me on death row...

To make a long story short, I am not buying. I talked to people and lined up a couple of places to look. If there is anything I have more of now than one month ago, it is faith. I have no doubt that things will work out just fine.