Reduce reuse...

In Ithaca you can recycle all kinds of plastic, numbers 1-7, so you usually don't have to worry about whether food containers are recyclable. In Rochester, not so. Only 1 and 2 are acceptable, so there is a lot more squinting at the bottoms of containers to find their number. Some of us in the BleisenMarriage are apparently more adaptable than others, and were able to learn within approximately the first five years of moving to Rochester that there is a different system here. (To summarize: 1 or 2? Yes. Not 1 or 2? No.) Others, rather than subject themselves to all that pesky memorization, relied on first gesturing with the container at their spouse and asking whether it could go in the recycling, then, when instructed, doing the squinty thing, then, after identifying the number (e.g. 3), asking if it could be recycled (see algorithm above).

In Year 6, however, all that is changing, and BOTH of us can now independently determine which containers are and are not appropriate to recycle, although old habits die hard and sometimes the yogurt containers get rinsed out anyway, just in case.

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In other big life changing news, we starting the Potty Training Process last weekend, which we in fact don't care about at all because neither one of us minds changing diapers. We were mainly motivated by not wanting to deal with this issue in someone who is sure to be an incredibly stubborn three-year-old. Aided by M&M's, she is getting it really quickly, but unfortunately only with me, at home, with the potty in the kitchen. (Clue, anyone?) As I was working all week this is not really a sustainable approach, but it's fine for now. When we were out today we saw one of those little toilet seats that you put on the regular toilet and Dylan said it would help and it had Big Bird on it and we are now its proud owners. Aaron took it out of its packaging, and, using his training, checked what number plastic it was. See where this is going? Number 1, of course. He giggled and put it in the recycling.

Our next potty-related challenge: figuring out how to spell M&M without, well, you see the problem?

From the what are they teaching them at daycare file

Dylan came home today, took my face in her hands, told me I was gorgeous, then gave me a kiss on each cheek. Everyone needs a little glamor in their day, I suppose.

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There was a spider in the bathroom this morning that caused Dylan to leap onto my person in a manner reminiscent of that scene in cartoons where, for example, a scared elephant will jump into the arms of a mouse at the sight of a ladybug or something equally terrifying. I know that's not quite apt in that I outweigh Dylan by a good 100+ pounds, but still, it gives you the right idea. At first I blamed daycare again because why would a two-year-old think spiders are terrifying, and...wait, I still blame them, but Aaron pointed out that she has done this with bugs since she was really little. She's also been at daycare since she was really little, so there you have it, the entire nature/nurture debate summed up in a paragraph.

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Speaking of elephants, the example one of my books gave for hallucinations during alcohol withdrawal was pink elephants. Come on, really?

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Speaking of school (remember that old thing?), I finished my rotation today. They try to dampen any relief you may have by having your last experience be a mind numbingly difficult exam to be done in 30% too little time. Let's all hope the answer to the last 20% of the questions is C! It is for cookie, after all.

Neither snow nor rain nor 24-degree weather

My Medicine Rotation: A Week By Week Guide

Week 1: What am I doing? And why have I been doing it for so many hours?

Week 2: Hm, didn't I go to medical school with you people? Why do I still seem to be in medical school, whereas you all seem to be in charge of me?

Week 3: Hey, didn't we go to high school together? Except you were a class below me and now you are my intern and I had no idea you even went to med school?

Week 4: I'm starting to get the hang of this a tiny little bit! Good thing it's my last week here.

Scene change from big university hospital to small community hospital with residents from all over the world

Week 5: My new intern wants to be in a different field, specifically surgery. He is therefore unhappy with life and presumably as a consequence found it too difficult to speak to me for the week and a half I was supposed to be working with him. I guess we've all been there.

Week 6: The people I'm working with are speaking to me now. It's...nicer. It's interesting to see all the advantages and disadvantages of having a smaller hospital. Advantage: 150% less time spent navigating a huge bureaucracy and vast physical distance to get the simplest of things done. Disadvantage: some of the attending physicians are really not interested in working with students or residents and are rude, if not hostile, regarding input/questions/my existence.

Week 7: Good lord, I've been doing this for seven weeks. Thinking back through the haze, I believe I also registered my dissertation somewhere in there. Defense Date: March 16th. Relatedly, I cannot seems to stop myself from getting into epidemiology-type disputes with the residents and attendings in public forums. It is possible my exhaustion is starting to show through, as documented by my current intern this morning on his iphone.
I had heard this before I started, but it really is hard to be judged by everyone, all the time.

Week 8: TBA

kid in bed

Salon, by Aaron

Interlude

If you didn't see this lego exhibit, I recommend it.