For all of you readers who are avid bowlers, I’m sorry, this post is not in reference to a “Turkey”.  Nor does it have anything to do with the action adventure film starring Vin Diesel circa 2002.  No, I was actually going for the baseball metaphor of “three strikes and you’re out”.  In this case, I am actually the one who has struck out based on my failure to post anything in the last several months.  I have no excuses; none that would substantiate an absence of this length anyway.  So, in lieu of apologizing, I simply plan to proceed as if I have been writing everyday.  And I am counting on your forgiveness and commitment to mend the wounds of our blogger/reader relationship.

Now that the housekeeping is out of the way, let me share some excitement from the last couple of months.  Well, actually as I sit here and think about it we have done a ton of stuff in the last two or three months, so I am just going to hit the highlights.  Mary and James went to the beach with Nana and Grandad and had a super fun time.  This allowed for one big long date week for me and Gretchen (Although that was not quite as romantic as some of your might picture it - Mostly we got to sleep late in the mornings and  do some uninterrupted yard work.  We might have gone out to dinner one night).  Also, Papa and Yaya came out to visit for two whole weeks.  The kids really loved that, not only because they got to spend so much time with grandparents, but also because Papa and Yaya know that the key to our children’s hearts is the park.  I bet we went to the park twenty times in two weeks.  Throw in a trip for me to Alaska with my friend Matt (for a church video), a slammin trip to Disney World with our super-awesome friends the Dufilhos (This will get its own post soon), and the fact that Gretchen finished Internal Medicine FOREVER!!! (Junky residency-style internal medicine anyway) and we have had quite a couple of months around here.

Please view pictures of all of the aformentioned activies below, and check back soon as Gretch and I are reaffirming our commitment to blogging.

- J

 

 

  

raise your hand if you cannot stop watching the olympics. wow, typing with one hand goes really slowly.

anyhoo, i’m happy to admit that i’ve been quite taken with the games this year. i mean, michael phelps, hello please?? katie hoff, you know i love you even though you didn’t make the podium on those races. male gymnasts, i’m darn proud of you, i am indeed. (and girls, don’t listen to that “choke” talk, you know that those chinese athletes would have been beaten with bamboo if they hadn’t brought home the gold, it’s better this way, no one gets hurt.)

i really am having a serious problem with the olympics. i’m on internal medicine and on call every 4th night, and don’t get enough sleep as it is. then throw in the fact that these frikkin awesome relays come on tv at 11 pm and the men don’t finish their team final until 1 am eastern time, and i’m completely worthless.

and i never thought i’d say this, but at least the kids are out of town this week (at the beach with jamey’s parents). if they were here, then we wouldn’t start watching the games until 9 or 9:30, and what with the magic of tivo we’d have to start from the beginning and watch until 3 am.

i’m admitting publicly that i have a problem, and no, i don’t want help. i even watched women’s water polo this afternoon. (anyone else see that monster in a women’s swimsuit on the italian team? you couldn’t pay me to swim with her coming after me, she was like 300 pounds of muscle and mean.)

call me a phelps phan, and a fan of anything associated with those magical 5 rings. and just think, track and field hasn’t even started yet! we’ve got a whole ‘nother week of this stuff!

-gretch

We, meaning Jamey and I, are pseudo-athletes. Again. It seems that we’ve gone through several phases during our relationship when we are dedicated to our health and well-being and demonstrate that dedication via our willingness to work out. And actually it’s only been somewhat affected by babies. (the addition of the elliptical machine at home made that a possibility, thank you.) So, a few months ago Jamey decided that we needed some sort of motivation to get off of the couch and force ourselves to exercise. And since running (or jogging, whatever the case may be) is the cheapest option it is naturally the one we chose. And, what do you know, it worked!

Jamey chose the “Crazy 8s” race in Kingsport, TN, as our first goal, and we tackled it on Saturday a week and a day ago. It’s an 8-K race, so basically 5 miles. It wasn’t for charity, I didn’t even raise money for a special cause (except perhaps the cause of not becoming flabby). And it was actually super fun.

So here we are just before the race. (it’s a night race, starting at 9:58 pm, we’re not awake before sunrise or anything.) Pumped up, ready to go, eh? Let me preface the next picture by saying it was quite a toasty day that Saturday, with temperatures upwards of 90 degrees and mucho humidity from 7 straight days of rain leading up to the event.

And this is a shot of my shirt after the race. GR-ROSS! I know!! No this is not touched up in any way, shape, or form. And yes, I sweat, I do not “perspire” or “glow” after churning out 5 miles. I must say, there was quite a stench from the crowd amassed at the finish line after this event. But it felt great. And I finished in a record-setting 46-minute breakneck pace! I blame the crowd in the first mile, and that’s my story, and it’s absolutely true as far as you’ll ever know. No, really, I just wanted to jog a little better than 9:30 minutes per mile, and I did. (Jamey did great too, and he was faster than me. Shocking, I know.)

Anyway, our next event was supposed to be a mini-triathalon, which was going to be really interesting since I am a horrible swimmer. No, really, I’m no good. Unfortunately, I am on call the day of the triathalon, and surprisingly enough, I’m disappointed that I won’t get to do it. It would be a major challenge for me, and I would feel pretty rockin’ about the strength that the Lord provides to us if I were able to accomplish that one. I’ll have to leave the demonstration of God’s provision of physical prowess up to my husband this time.

 

-g

So, here it is, the end of June, and what do we have to show for it? According to the blog world … nothing. I will attempt to give you a brief rundown of the goings-on around here for the last few weeks.

We continue to play dress-up, naturally. James is not one to be out-done, as you can see. At least I didn’t paint his fingernails and toenails to go with his outfit. (I did that this weekend, since Jamey’s out of town. Hey, we were doing Mary’s nails and he asked me to do his, what was I supposed to say?? [somewhere out there Joe Thomas yells out "NO! You tell him NO!!"]) I was kind of hoping it would deter him from biting his nails. It didn’t.

We still have a fascination with butterflies. Mary’s here trying to transfer the moth from her hand to James (didn’t work out — James smacked it). She named this one Dorothy (may she rest in peace).

Ooh, this was fun: Jamey took us down into the yard to look at something he found while mowing. He pulled back a tuft of fluff-n-stuff and we peered down into a hole filled with baby bunnies! They were itty bitty tiny, a little past the mouse-appearing stage, but not much. It was cute. We made the mistake of having Jerry outside at the same time we were exploring, and seriously I thought we were going to have a lot of bloody explaining to do once he got a whiff of those babies. Don’t worry, we drug him into the house and the creatures are free to grow up and reproduce at will and live off of the lay of our land. Wait, why did I stop him? (and now somewhere Robin is recoiling in horror saying “Gretchen Bowling what is wrong with you?! You have no soul!” Sorry Rob, I didn’t mean it, as far as you know.)

We took on a minor construction project in the front yard. We used to have a row of boxwoods in front of the stoop so that you couldn’t see how to get to the front door (the step was on the side). We pulled out the boxwoods and created new steps in the front, so that we look much more welcoming and maybe we’ll attract more visitors (we haven’t). Anyhoo, I suffered minor injuries in the process. Those boxwoods were probably as old as the house, and digging them out was quite a chore. First shrub of the day: we dug in around the root ball, and Jamey was using the shovel to pry underneath and I was at the base pushing against it, when CRACK-THWAP. I heard a sudden sucking in of air, a split second later realized it was my own as I felt pain, pain, pain, incredible pain at the left side of my head. Yes, the shovel handle broke off under the force of my superman-husband’s strength, and unfortunately I was in its path. I dropped to all fours immediately and made myself try to think as clearly as I could, to prove I didn’t have a concussion (I didn’t). And hey, it didn’t even bleed; it just made a nasty knot that responded nicely to ice. It was sore for a few days, but as far as I can tell I am neurologically intact.

Other than that, Mary went to Bible School the first week of June, she took 2 weeks of swim lessons and did great; she can now dip her entire face in the water for approximately 1.17 seconds. (she actually did improve a lot and is much more comfortable in the water, it was worth it.) Now James is taking a parent- and- tot class on Saturdays. We play at the park a lot, still dance around to “Step in Time” while watching Mary Poppins, and in general enjoy the time that I’m not working quite as much as I was before.

But we sure do miss all of you.

-g

So, one of the great things about living in Eastern Tennessee is all of the “creatures” scurrying about.  I say creatures because I feel like that covers everything; from the large guys like cows and horses, down to the little fellows like frogs and crayfish (or crawfish if you prefer), and everything in between.    And lately we have had some good fortune in catching several specimens for the kids to study.  Just this past week we housed a frog and a box turtle for a while.  So, we are constantly on the hunt for something fun and new.

Well, I don’t know if it is the fact that I have been watching a lot of “Man vs. Wild”, or that my good friend Matt despises them, or I just want the kids to see one up close or what, but I have been actively hunting for a snake over the last several weeks.  My mind set has been that if I am always looking for them, then I will never be surprised when I meet one, and I can pounce on him.

Well today was the moment of truth.  The kids were out playing with the water hose, and I was doing my daily survey of our yard (De-weeding beds and cleaning up braches, etc.).  So, as I am standing on the edge of the woods, assessing some newly planted grass, a shiny black and yellow stick scoots right past my feet.  Well, first off let me say that I was barefoot (as usual), but strangly I was neither startled by the snake nor was I concerned with the fact that I was without shoes.  “I’m ready” I thought.  “Not only do I want to catch this guy, but I have no problem going after him with both my hands and feet exposed.  This is it”.  I took a quick glance around and grabbed a dead branch from the ground.  I broke off the tips, forming a small fork at the end (It felt like a tool that both Bear Grylls and Steve Erwin would promote).  I slowly and carefully pinned his head to the ground, and extended a hand toward his tail.  At the exact instant I touched him, he apparently went into some sort of a seizure - contorting himself this way and that, flailing about uncontrollably.  I hesitated, flinched even, (to be honest I recoiled like a little girl)………. and then he was loose.  Like a cheap dollar bill gag on a sidewalk, he shot headlong into the woods as if someone was reeling him in on a string.  I had no chance to recover. 

Clearly my mental perception of my gruff manliness is slightly inflated.  Bear Grylls I am not.  I may start refering to myself as Chipmunk Grylls; it seems somehow more appropriate.

- J

Vacation in Charleston, SC last week. It was great. I got to forget that I’m a resident physician for a while, the kids got to run around like banshees on the beach without getting “shhh’d”, and Jamey was perfectly at home back near the water.

We also got to spend a lot of time with my good friend Darci, who I haven’t seen in too-long-to-know. Luckily for me, hers is the type of friendship that doesn’t grow stale after sitting for months on a shelf with little activity. It was so easy to settle back into our comfortable selves, only now with a few more kids between us. Here’s the coolest thing about me and one of my coolest friends: we share a birthday: April 2nd (one year apart). What’s more is that both of our first-born children share a birthday: March 26, 2004. And just for good measure, my boy shares a birthday with her husband Stephen: February 15 (many years apart). With connections like that, we were so meant.

Thanks for making our vacation extra fun, Watsons.

-g

 

I am ready for that. Rest & Relaxation. Or rejuvenation and renewal. Or rum on the rocks. I’m ready for all of those things, actually. I have finished my toughest rotation just this week, and it’s all on the slow downhill from here! Just 6 more weeks of being an intern, and then I’m actually called a “senior” resident. Yes, it will only be my second year of 3, but when the inevitable poo hits the fan and there’s only myself and an intern around, I’m in charge. So scary. 

It seems that 1 year is not nearly long enough for me to be able to tell others how to manage medical situations. However, the learning curve during the intern year is crazily exponential. I mean, I thought we crammed a lot in during medical school, but THIS is where my true learning happens. There are brainiacs out there who can book-learn a subject and know exactly how to apply it to real life, but I am not one of those. I learn it in real life and then vaguely remember reading something that one time… And then when it comes up again I don’t have to start at the beginning; only halfway through or so.

We talk and complain about how hard it is to go through this type of schedule and be physically and emotionally and mentally beaten down, because hey, it is. Pretty frikkin tough. But you know, in all honesty, this is the only way to do it. Unless I suppose we want to only work 40 hrs a week and never on weekends and then it would only take approximately 10 yrs to become a full-fledged doctor. No thank you, please.

All of these random musings are essentially to say I start a 9-day vacation tomorrow morning at 7:30 am, and darn it, I deserve it. And we’re going to Charleston. And we’ll get to hang out with the Watsons. And it’s going to be awesome.

I look forward to my R&R. (all 6 of them. maybe there are more delightful R’s, I’ll let you know.)

-g

Warning: This post contains material that may be slightly tacky and/or gross to some persons.  Viewer discretion is advised.

“Dada, I have juice”

“You’re drinking juice?  OK sweetie.”

“No, I have juice!”

“You spilled juice?”

“No. Dad, I need you.”

“Where are you sweetie?”

“In the potty”

“Are you going tee tee or poo poo?”

“I’m not, I just have juice”

OK, this has peeked my interest enough to investigate.  I find her sitting on the potty.  And I asked her again which she is “do”ing.  At this point she begins to cry, and tells me that she has juice on her panties, and she can’t make poo poo come out of her bottom, only juice.  I am immediately torn between laughing at her creative description of diarrhea and how to console the child.  Has she never had it before?  Well, I can’t say that I remember it.  So I launch into a detailed “doctor influenced” description of the condition.  This does not settle her emotions.  “I don’t want juice in my bottom.  I just want regular poo poo.”  OK, time to switch on my parent brain; What can I tell her that will make this all better?  “Pumpkin, mom has juice sometimes too.  And you love to be like mom right?  You and mom can be the juice girls.”  “Yeah (sob, sob) I want to be a juice girls with mom.”

I love my juice girls.

- J

So, my little sister gave her daughter Ava her own little sister: Iris Hope McCain.

(yes, this joyous event occurred over a week ago.)

The process may not have been as smooth as planned, but the end result is just as sweet: a healthy little girl! I think that even Heidi would agree that it was much easier the second time around, anyway.

I think she’s awesome already, and I can’t wait to meet her in person and confirm the obvious. What’s funny is that I was looking at her first pictures thinking “she looks familiar, whose baby looked like that at birth?” And I think that actually she reminds me of Heidi’s baby pictures! She doesn’t look so much like Ava did as a newborn. However, I do need some more updated pictures to better compare, hint hint sister.

I’m almost a little jealous that Heidi has 2 girls so that they can experience sisterhood … not enough to have another one, don’t even ask.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So we’ve already posted about butterflies (and Mary’s obsession with one landing on her finger), but this is just such a source of great sights and smells for us daily that I thought I’d let everyone in on it.

Our Lilac Bush.

Previously Mrs. Fleenor’s lilac bush, (the lady who formerly lived here and planted the gazillions of lovely flowers in the yard, thank you very much,) this thing is big, and pretty, and provides endless entertainment. It’s a veritable butterly garden in our backyard. (No, we still haven’t managed to get one to land on Mary’s finger, but believe you me we are not giving up.) So I tried to get some pics of it, and there’s no way you can appreciate it, but there are literally dozens of butterflies/moths/bumblebees swarming the bush constantly. And it lets off this crazy sickly sweet smell, so I can’t blame the insect world for coming en masse.

So just in case I’ve been dogging on Tennessee too often lately, here are some reasons why it’s kinda nice.

 Oh, and while I’m bragging just a little bit on springtime fun, Jamey risked having his eyes pecked out to get a shot of these robin eggs. (There’s a nest in our backyard in the trumpet vine, and while the momma bird was off getting food he snuck up there and snapped a shot. Don’t worry, she came right back swooping towards his head in no time.)

-g