Further into Domesticity

Today I did something that I have never done before.  I.  Made.  Pie. 

We had lunch with some friends this afternoon and I had offered to bring dessert.  I was going to make old faithful - chocolate chip cookies, then I considered strawberry shortcake (thanks for the suggestion Humble Hostess!).  And then, for reasons yet to be understood, I decided to make mulberry pie.

What is a mulberry, you ask?

Why, I have no idea, I say.

Alls I know is that we have two giant mulberry trees in our yard that leave a purple mess on our driveway every spring.  And the birds love the berries....I've seen the purple poop!  Ha Ha....purple poop!  [Insert favorite K-State joke here.] 

So I decided to use the resources in our front yard and make a pie.  I put Danny in charge of the picking.  He put me in charge of everything else.  Including the homemade crust.  How we all lived and thrived without Google for so many years is a mystery I ponder daily.   

The following is a how to regarding mulberry pie.....

1.  Move into a house surrounded by mulberry trees.

2.  Find yourself a husband to go out and pick them.  Ideally, he will be tall with a large wing span.  He should also have broad shoulders and a kind heart.  And a nice tush.

3.  Have a baby that can watch out the window as her daddy picks berries.

Then when she sees him.....

4.  I'm sorry, what was I talking about....?

5.  Rinse the mulberries in cool water.  I'm just guessing on this one.  Not part of the actual recipe, but it just sounded like a good idea.

6.  Google "how to make pie crust."  Then fill said pie crust with berries smooshed together with flour and sugar.

7.  If you're feeling especially daring, you can also google "how to make lattice pie crust."  Find instructions with pictures.

8.  Have a big fat Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder moment and make sure your slices of dough are EXACTLY THE SAME WIDTH!!!

9.  Take some xanax.

10.  Feel really good about yourself when you figure out how to lattice.  Say something like, "What's up now!?!?"  or "Who's your daddy?!?!"

11.  Have a melt down when you realize that you messed up one of the strands of lattice work.

12.  Feel better after your husband suggests that you repeat the same mistake on all of your pies as your special "signature."  Kind of like a serial killer.

13.  Bake.

14.  While the pie is in the oven, take pictures of your baby's chubby thighs.  Wish that your chubby thighs were as cute as hers.

15.  Remove from oven.  Take lots of pictures of your pie.  In the event that you never make pie again, you'll have proof that once upon a time....you made pie.

16.  Do like they do in the old folks home and wipe your drool.
 

17.  Repeat step 16.

18.  Slice.  Plop some vanilla ice cream down next to your pie. 

19.  Eat

Girls Weekend, WOO HOO! (alternate title: 7 old hags get out of town for the weekend)

I really want to blog about our trip to Colorado, but I haven't had time to edit my pictures yet, so you'll just have to wait.  One of the reasons I haven't had time to edit pictures is because I had the pleasure of spending a few days at the lake with six of my bestest girl friends!  So you get to hear about that. 

Ready?

Here goes.

Myself, the Socialite, the Supermodel, the Artist/Preacher's Wife, the CRNA, the Coach/Preacher's Wife and the Shopper headed out last Thursday for a weekend of fun and sun to celebrate the year of our 30th birthdays.  And to escape all responsibility.  And husbands.  And children.

We stayed for FREE in a beautiful condo overlooking the lake.  There are perks to being friends with a preacher's wife!  After we rolled into town, we made a quick trip to Wal Mart where we bought the necessities....wine and bacon.  And a few other things, I think.  But none as necessary as wine and bacon.

We got settled into the condo late in the evening and kicked back with some fantastic drinks that the Socialite whipped up.  They weren't as strong as they could have been because the Shopper didn't like vodka.  Blah blah blah...

We slept in a bit on Friday morning, because that's what you do when you don't have a husband and a baby making demands of you.  The sky looked stormy, so we decided to go shopping, because that's what you do when you don't have a husband and baby making demands of you. 

First stop:  the outlet mall.  Ahhhh, outlet stores as far as the eye could see.  I splurged a bit and bought some new shirts for myself.  Danny bought a new Northface jacket in Aspen, so I reckoned that I was entitled to a little money spending of my own.  That and I needed more responsible looking clothes to make my patients believe that I am a competent doctor.  Right?  Right!  Nothing says "trust me, I'm a doctor" like a T-shirt that says "Trust me, I'm a doctor."  Oh, and a closet full of cardigans.  And glasses.  I will be wearing my glasses each and every day, starting July first.   

So we shopped forever at the outlet mall until one of the preacher's wives became a shoplifter.  Then we decided it was time to hit the road.  Before lightning struck her down.  Our next stop was MEGA MARSHALLS.  I could have wandered around that place for all of eternity.  Maybe that's what heaven is like....my heaven anyhow.  Danny would argue that it is the other place.  Anyhow, other than the fact that the store closes at night, I couldn't come up with any good reason to ever leave.  They have clothes, furniture, bedding, towels, food.....and cute little office organizers so when Danny forwards my mail to MEGA MARSHALLS, I will have somewhere to keep it.  Neatly.  Finally the Socialite decided that she'd had enough of MEGA MARSHALLS and demanded that we leave.  The Socialite sorta runs the show.  I generally do what she says.  That's why we've been best friends for so long.  Mutual respect. 

That night we got dressed up, the Supermodel teased our hair, we put on too much eyeliner and went out for mexican food.  We laughed because we couldn't figure out who we were dressing up for, but we went ahead and did it. 

On the way back to the condo we stopped to take ridiculous pictures in front of a miniature golf course with a huge pirate sign.  They didn't turn out very well, but here's one of them.  In the name of modesty and decency and potential legal action, I will refrain from posting a picture of one of the preacher's wives mooning the camera.  I won't say which one it was, but it was the same one who shoplifted earlier in the day. 

This is me and the CRNA.  Respectable health care professionals. 

Then we went back to the condo for some wine and girl talk.  Which turned into cookie-eating and inappropriate picture-drawing.  Again, mostly from the Preacher's Wife. 

The next morning we got up and ate some more bacon.  The following conversation took place during the cleaning up of said bacon:

Shopper:  What should I do with this bacon grease?

CRNA:  My mom always put it in a can.

Shopper:  Lets turn the water on really hot and put it down the drain.

Socialite:  My mom always put it in a can.

CRNA:  Just make sure the water is REALLY hot.

Shopper:  You don't think it will catch on fire, do you?

Socialite:  No.

CRNA:  Well, if you throw a match on it.

 - THE END - 

After the bacon grease was disposed of, we went to the pool to get some sun.  I got fried after about 45 minutes and caught endless slack because I didn't put any sun screen on.  Apparently when you become a doctor, people expect you to start eating vegetables and wearing SPF 50. 

So that was our weekend in a nutshell.  Oh, heck.  I left out the part about the Supermodel and the Goober-burger.  Probably for the best. 

Here are a few pictures:

On the road again....(they made me sit in the back).

Preacher's Wife #1, Socialite, Shopper, CRNA, Supermodel, Me and Preacher's Wife #2 at lunch.

Me with Supermodel and Socialite.  (Re: hat - my ode to Matthew McConaughey)

Ready for our night on the town.  First time my hair had seen a curling iron in years!

Supermodel and Shopper - work it....OWN IT!

Shopper's not-so-graceful enterance into the car.  Preacher's Wife wondering how she ever ended up friends with hooligans like Shopper.  Contemplating existence.  And another glass of wine.

Lake of the Ozarks Barbie

This was the cute little place we had lunch.  The picture was super-cute, except for my heinous appearance.  That's why I'm all scribbled out. 

Helpin' a brother out

A few days ago, my friend Kelly (who volunteers at a dog shelter) sent me a message about a new dog who had been dropped off at the facility.  His owners were moving and their new place would not allow pets.  So they took him to the shelter.  But the shelter just happened to be a "kill shelter."  Meaning that the dogs who are there too long are put to sleep to make room for more dogs. 

Because I am a lover of all things furry and slobbery, I immediately posted a link to "Midnight's" profile on my facebook page.  Several people commented, but my sweet friend Molly, who lives in Omaha, was genuinely interested.  After much texting and calling among Molly, Kelly and myself, Molly decided that she would be Midnight's new mommy. 





So today, Danny and I drove over to Half Way Home Pet Adoptions to pick up Midnight, the beautiful little black Cocker Spaniel, who was to be renamed "Kansas."  We brought him back to our house for a few hours and he got to spend some good, quality time with our pups while Molly was driving in from Nebraska. When Molly and her boyfriend got to our house, I had a hard time letting him go.  That sweet face just melts me.  As they were driving off, I yelled to Molly, "If you decide you don't want him, I'll take him!"  Somehow, I don't think that's going to be an issue. 

Hello there.  I don't know who you people are, but I have a feeling things are looking up!

The Three Amigos

I'm so glad that Kansas has found a forever home and that he did not have to die.  But it makes me sad to think about all of the helpless pups at shelters across the country who will eventually be put down because nobody comes to take them home.  If you are thinking about getting a dog, please consider rescuing a dog from one of these facilities.  Charlie, Mabel and Kansas would appreciate it.  

Now off to the shower....I smell like the pound!

Charlie's Corner

Charlie here. 

Mom and Dad just got back home.  They went to a place called Cowowado for a week.  That's why Mom hasn't been on this bwogging thing.  Anyhow.  Just wanted to let you know that as soon as she gets her pictures downwoaded, she will tell you all about it. 

As for me and Mabel, welp, we had a pwetty good week.  Mom's BFF, who just so happens to be the object of my affection (Oh Wachel...how I wove thee!), stayed with us and made sure we didn't get into any twouble.  The week would have been better if it hadn't been for that pesky Twavis.  He's twying to move in on my Wachel.  And I tink she woves him more than Charlie.  My heart has been smooshed into a billion tiny pieces.  Just so you know.

It must be the persistent dwooling that has turned her away. 

I weep. 

I bewieve I have spent enough time on this computer, spewing my emotions for today.  I have a bone out on the deck cawing my name. 

Wove,
Charlie

I Heart You

Okay, so an update on my heart.  Started drinking coffee again and finally my PVCs came back.  Recorded a few good ones on my monitor.  Stopped drinking coffee.  Still having PVCs.  But now they have a hard time getting up in the morning and have less energy during the day.  Oh wait, that's me. 

I think in an earlier post I mentioned something about wearing the monitor for "a few days."  Well, make that 30 days.  Seems a little excessive to me, but what do I know?  I'm just a doctor.  A doctor withdrawing from caffeine.  A doctor withdrawing caffeine who just had to type C-A-F-F-E.... in the little google toolbar because she couldn't remember how to spell it.   Lord help me.  Isn't there some sort of caffeine substitute?  Other than meth? 

Anyway...so I get to wear my monitor for another two weeks.  And I'm starting to feel a little self conscious when I go out in public and have an EKG sticker stuck to my chest with a conspicuous wire attached to a black box on my belt.  I look like either I'm dying or I'm a suicide bomber....or a dying suicide bomber.  Is that redundant? 

Okay, it's late and my brain stopped functioning sometime in March. 

Word to your mother. 

Turn on Your Heart Light

Last week I got my heart monitor in the mail.  I wasn't expecting it since I hadn't even seen a cardiologist yet, but you know....they're probably all too busy golfing.  So they sent the monitor in their stead.  Clearly nobody thinks I'm going to drop over dead from my PVCs, so....that's reassuring.

This little monitor that I have is supposed to monitor events.  Would you believe that since I've stopped drinking coffee that my events have stopped?  Yeah, I've been wearing this silly thing all day, every day actually HOPING for some PVCs so I'll have something to record to show the cardiologists so the following scenario doesn't take place:


Cardiologist:  Well Ms. Bartlett....

Me: (coughs "Dr. Bartlett" under breath)

Cardiologist:  You've been wearing the monitor for 30 days and we haven't recorded any abnormalities.

Me: But....but....I promise.  I get these weird spells where my heart goes "lub-dub.....lub-dub.....lub-dub-lub-dub...................*come on little SA node!...........lub-DUUUUB. 

Cardiologist:  Oh, of course.  I believe you.  I'm just going to have our front desk make an appointment for you to follow up with one of the nice people in our psychiatry department. 

~The End~

So now I've started drinking coffee again to try to make my heart misbehave.  So far no luck.  I knew this was going to happen.  Stupid heart!

But....if it turns out that caffeine is the culprit...well, that just means that the universe is a cold, cruel place for Christi to live.  Starting my intern year without the performance enhancing effects of coffee is like dropping me off in the middle of Lake Michigan in a wee little boat with no paddle.  And then putting sharks in Lake Michigan.  Would sharks even survive in Lake Michigan?  I'm not a marine biologist.  Scratch the sharks.  Lets go with the traditional evil sea creature ~ sea bass with lasers.  The ill-tempered variety.  That's what intern year will be like for me.  Sympathy please!    

I don't know where I'm going with this.  Big surprise.  I'm just frustrated that there is no rhyme or reason to my crazy heart beats and I can't even catch them on the monitor.  They're like big-foot.

Stay tuned for my adventures in the psych ward.

Oh, and just for fun, here's a picture of me rocking my EKG sticker.  Don't even ask what I was thinking.

Well, what I was thinking was, "Oh heck, Carrody has a camera, quick, do the mad model look, no...don't do that, you'll look like a tool....blast....too late!"

Gradumication

About seven and a half years ago, I was sitting at a desk, working as a receptionist for EVCO Wholesale Food Co. in Emporia, KS.  One day, between taking telephone orders for chicken gizzards and being heckled by Sarge, the crusty old warehouse manager, I had an epiphany.  (Do I use too many commas?  If this bothers you I'm sorry.)  Where was I?  Oh yes, the epiphany.  I was going to be a doctor.

And that night I had a very interesting conversation with Danny.  Well, it wasn't so much a conversation as it was me talking about my change in career plans and Danny sitting there with his mouth agape wondering what had happened to the person he had just married.  

I had started out at KU as a pre-med major (mostly because it sounded good when people asked me what I was majoring in), but after taking chemistry and biology I thought, "Golly-gee-wizards!  This is hard!" and opted for a journalism degree.  I was going to be an uber-successful, uber-blond, Manolo Blahnik-wearing pharmaceutical sales representative.  But lo....that had too many syllables and I wound up as a receptionist at a food wholesaler making minimum wage and wearing knock-off Manolo Blahnik Tims (you know, the one's J Lo used to wear).  Fate is cruel.

Follow this link for a picture of me on their website.  Yep....quit working there in 2003.  They just can't let me go. Or they haven't updated their website in seven years.  Either is plausible. 

http://www.evcofoods.com/customer_services.htm 

You're welcome to leave me a comment telling me how I haven't changed a bit since then.  Or, if you have an aversion to lying, don't write anything.

Be that way.  

Where am I going with this?  I've forgotten myself.

My name is Christi, it's 2010, Barack Obama is the president....

Oh yes.  Graduation.

Last night, seven and a half years after my epiphany, I walked across the stage at the Lied Center in Lawrence as Dr. Christi Leigh Bartlett.  I was hooded, handed my diploma and recited the oath of Hippocrates....all while wearing some stinking cute red shoes.  Still not Manolos.  That dream has died.  And go figure, the "hood" isn't even a hood, which I found somewhat disappointing.  But I still consider myself "hood"...you know...I went to Shawnee Mission North.

So that's what's been going on with me. As Oprah would say, it was a "full circle moment."  Then she would give me a big hug and invite me to her mansion in Montecito.  Nate Berkus would be there and he would give me decorating tips while lounging by the pool and sipping mojitos.  Charlie and Mabel would be invited too and would spend the day frolicking with Oprah's cocker spaniels.

Oh please!  Tell me you don't have an Oprah fantasy!  

Talk to you all later.

Sincerely,

Christi Bartlett, M.D.