Perspective (just a little)

One of the radio stations I listen to has this Wednesday feature called, "You've got to be kidding me!" where you call up and discuss things that made you angry. It's mostly little annoyances and kind of reminds me of this site. It's funny and everyone understands that you're not like, oh my God, my life is soooo awful because my nail polish turned out to be matte instead of shiny or because you spent an hour shopping and then the grocery store couldn't take credit cards because the computer was down. Total first world problems.

My 8am patient came, but my 9am canceled, so after I wrote my note, etc, I was reading today's "You've got to be kidding me!" posts on Facebook. And there was one from a female soldier that read, "I woke up this morning and I'm still in Afghanistan."

It kind of gave me pause.

Now, don't get me wrong. I think this is a little bitchy. Not for nothin', but you made the choice to join the military. And, yes, people have many different reasons for doing so, and, true, they don't always let you make the decisions about where you go once you're in, but I'm saying, you knew waking up in a war-torn country that resents out presence there was a distinct possibility. And to post it in a forum like this is a little woe-is-me. Not that she's not entitled to it, but, nonetheless.

Still.

I'm looking out over the rolling green hills and bright blue sky of this hot North Carolina day. I'm seeing patients, I'm in the air conditioning, I have cute shoes and manicured nails. And, yes, I have a lot of things to deal with, and yeah, my job can get pretty taxing. But no one is shooting at me.

Well, I do live in the Dirty D. I guess it could happen. But so far it hasn't. And the gangs aren't real big on IEDs, either (pool noodle incident notwithstanding).

I've been obsessing a lot lately about where I want to be when this year ends. What sort of job, what sort of setting, etc, but also where I want to end up geographically. Raleigh? Chicago? New York? Baltimore? In the end, I suspect, it'll come down to where the best offer turns up. But this morning I'm thinking that it's nice to consider whether I'll be shoveling snow or dealing with traffic instead of if I'm going to run over a land mine today or someone is going to throw a grenade at me while I trudge along with 70 pounds of gear on my back in the desert heat.

I was talking to my supervisor a couple of weeks ago about making the decision to stay in the area or go back home, and I told her, it feels like whichever decision I make, it's going to feel like the wrong one. If I stay in NC, I'm going to wish I was in Chicago. If I go to Chicago, I'm going to miss my people (and weather) in NC. This sucks. And her perspective was, well, you could look at it as, whichever place you decide to go, you've got great things going on and great people to be with (there are fewer people there, but the same thing can be said for NYC or Baltimore).

I still don't know what the hell to do. But I'm trying to hold on to the perspective that it's a win-win. Or at least that it could be a lot worse.

Awesomeness

It was a generally good day.

I got up late, but I still managed to get coffee and breakfast and get to my morning meeting on time. I had a really good meeting with my research collaborator, and left with an in-theory-educational DVD about infant development titled "Everybody Loves Babies." I also left with a quest to purchase the book, What Babies Say Before They Can Talk, about infant communication (my research is on mother-infant bonding). Which, I found it on the nook bookstore (the nookstore?) and stopped in the parking lot of the Barnes and Noble near State Hospital to download it onto my electronic reader. I went to SH, at lunch and read the first chapter of What Babies Say, and had a lovely conversation with Peng and Mike and then our newly transplanted junior fellow, Moira. I had a lovely hour of supervision (we talked mostly about what novels we've been reading, since two of my patients are off for the summer and one went to the beach last week instead of coming to therapy). I ran and got more coffee (white mocha, yum). My last patient of the day no-showed (thankfully...) and so I got the rest of yesterday's diagnostic interview typed up. I kibbitzed with Peng and our boss Athena for a while, and finally came home and had dinner with my parents. It was nice.

Oh, also today I printed up a return label for and reboxed the First Aid for the Pediatric Boards from yesterday's post. Because I'm thinking that will be useless on the psychiatry boards I'm taking in two short months. And then I re-ordered the right book. From Barnes and Noble. 

And then! I came home, right, and I looked in my mailbox for the first time in several weeks (my mailman hates me). And in my mail I had the most awesomest card from Jer and Ali (and little baby Grace). On the front it says, "I'd totally take a bee for you" (there's a little picture of a bee) and then when you open it, it plays this song:



Which, I looked up on Lyrics Freak, and I think it's a song about a little bluebird nightlight. I....love that so much.

(Thanks, guys!!)

In other news, my parents today attended the memorial service of one of their neighbors at Shady Pines. He was a nice guy. Lived downstairs, next door to the other Greek lady. He was 97, and he finally gave up golfing four years ago. I saw him last week and he was looking pretty good; apparently it was a swift decline, which is a blessing, I'm sure. Still, sad.

But here's the thing.

They came home with balloon animals.

No joke! There was a guy there making balloon animals. We think maybe he was a friend of the deceased. To the best of my knowledge, the guy that died wasn't a clown or anything. Maybe he just really liked balloon animals?

Not what I was hoping for...

Came in the mail today.

I got all excited until I looked at the cover.

Epic fail, Amazon.com....

And this is not helping my resolve to study.

Boredom

Today was close to being the most boring day in recorded history.

I'm on Consults, now, right? Just for kids, but of course all of our child consults are filtered through Psychology first, which means we only consult on the kids who need meds (generally). It also means the service is very hit-or-miss.

Today was a miss.

I don't generally complain about not having a ton of work to do. But today started at 6:45am, when I saw my therapy patient. It was really early. I was really tired. There was caffeine, but not enough. So spending the next four hours sitting on my hands wasn't very appealing. I read about old patients and a potential patient. I caught up on some of my friends' blogs. I hacked my way on to Facebook (it's supposed to be blocked at the hospital).

Cleo got me to Starbucks to refuel for the afternoon, and that mocha was worth all the calorie shuffling I had to do to drink it. I had a reasonable clinic planned, but then my new patient cancelled, leaving me another two hours to read CNN and play Solitaire. And my 3pm was 30 minutes late. But at least I saw one patient today (well, two, with the therapy patient).

I still left at like 4:30. Which is awesome.

I think I have a little fourth-year-itis. Not that it means much, really. I'm ready to move on, but I'm moving on to another year of fellowship, so it's not a big transition. Still. It's time for a change....

Do. Not. Love.

Tonight is the third night in a row I've gotten home from work after 7:30pm. Today was very, very long. I had a lot happen on the unit this morning. I left for State Hospital a lot later than I wanted to. Today was my day to present the Thursday afternoon resident lecture. One of my afternoon therapy cases was a circus. And I slept like 5 hours last night.

I'm so tired....

At least it's Friday.

My day...was long. And can be summed up by this verse from one of my favorite Ani DiFranco songs, which has been running through my head all afternoon...

Everything I do is judged
I usually get it wrong, oh well
The bathroom mirror has not budged
The woman who lives there can tell
The truth from the shit that they say
She looks me in the eye
Says, "Would you prefer the easy way?
No? Well, okay then, don't cry." 

Sunday.

What a great day I had.

I went to work, which was, well, great would be pushing it. But tolerable. And I was out by 11, so I went to coffee with the few who were still lingering. It was delightful. Good company, good mocha. Mmm. I spent most of the afternoon on the bike. And then I went to a recruitment dinner with Peng and a couple of the interns, and I think we showed them pretty well what a fun bunch we are.

After coffee I came home and futzed around on the internet for a while (okay, I was looking at jackets. It's the last thing I need to feel safer on the bike. It's surprisingly difficult to find non-black). I'd been waiting on Garth to ride, but he wasn't texting me back so I figured he was probably busy. So, ultimately, I geared up and hit the road.

Literally. Okay, "hit" is an overstatement.

I dropped the bike again. No, that's not true. It tipped, and the easiest way to get it back up was to set it down and start over. Both times I was stopped and perpendicular to a hill. The second time I did it, these two women came over and helped me get it pointed back in the right direction. One of them was a biker chick herself. We had a good chuckle at how female-identified the whole thing was. And then I got back on the bike and off I went.

I rode through a bunch of nearby neighborhoods. Eventually I ventured out onto a slightly bigger street, braved the roundabout, and made it to the big parking lot down the street that Larry used to practice for his road test. I rode in circles for a while. Practiced stopping, turning, weaving. And eventually connected with Garth,who rode over and joined me. He had me running drills for a while - shifting, figure eights, turns from a stop. All very useful and increasing my comfort level. We still have to raise the suspension a bit so I'll stop dragging my pegs in the turns, and I think that'll help my comfort level even more.

I came back home through the same roundabout, and this time - at Garth's urging - did the whole loop. Dragging my left peg, sending up showers of sparks the whole time. Which, for those of you unfamiliar with the idea, is fine. It looks dramatic, but it isn't a big deal at all. Garth? Thought it looked cool. Here's what I was thinking:

"I'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mnotdeadI'mnotdeadI'mnotdeadI'mnotdeadohthankgod I'm going straight again. Ahh."


It'll get better. In that, I'll feel better soon. I wasn't even close to dying.

The progress I've made in the past couple of days has been good, I think. And I'm definitely doing better than I was at the end of class. Which was WAY better than I was doing at the start of class!

Here's a relevant statistic for you: According to the 2006 NTHSA study by Hurt, et al, which studied over 4,000 motorcycle crashes for causative factors and modifiable variables, only 8% of riders involved in crashes had formal training, like the MSF course I took. Stated another way, 92% were self-taught or learned from family or friends.

Makes you think.

Honing one's skills with experienced friends who've had formal instruction, however, is generally encouraged. My instructors in the class said over and over that they highly recommended finding a mentor.

How amazingly lucky am I? I have five.

There's clearly something wrong with me...

I'm wrapping bagels to put them in the freezer (I brought home two dozen, which I distributed between friends and family and my tummy, except for the last eight) (and no, that's not what's wrong with me, be patient) and I'm humming to myself, and suddenly I bust out with this song:



From Sophomore Madrigals. Sixteen years ago. And I don't remember it being in German. But I'm sure we sounded just as good.

Still, it's pleasant, and I thought I'd share. 

It was a long ass, 12-hour day today. Which was supposed to be longer, because I was supposed to meet Gomer at 7. But I told him I had a meeting. I barely slept last night and my knee hurt and I couldn't handle the gym tonight. So we try again next week.

Oy. What a day. I'm so not ready to be back at work.

Intern, turn, turn

So I'm playing intern again today.

We sent our actual interns to the beach this weekend. Unfortunately, it's pretty cold here in NC. But I bet they're having fun anyway.

I, on the other hand, am not at the beach. I'm sitting in the Neurology call room waiting for the 8pm shift change. Which isn't so bad.

I mean, except for this, in the shower...

And the mousetraps in the call room itself.

What is it about me and roaches and vermin?

Although....look at the publisher of the bottom book. That, at least, cracks me up.

It's been interesting. I haven't actually been on a non-psychiatric service in, what, over two years? And I think my neuro month was about three years ago. I was really anxious about this morning. Turns out, of course, I needn't have been worried. It's like falling off a bike.

I forget sometimes, too, what a difference it makes to be a senior resident. I was thinking earlier about my first day on Neurology as an intern. As luck would have it, it was also my first day at Baby Blue. Ever. There was supposed to be someone replacing the anesthesia intern, so they told me, hey, don't worry about it. But of course, that person didn't show up until Tuesday. Suddenly? Oh. Hey. Could you cover his patients? Just go see them and write notes. Don't worry too much about it.

Yeah. Right. Not to mention, I had no idea how to use the computers here. I couldn't remember how to write orders. I'd totally forgotten my log in for the electronic medical record.

I sat in the workroom, right off the nurses station, trying not to cry. I was absolutely determined to figure this out. I called the help desk. I dove in. And, of course, I figured out enough to get by. They were happy.

Of course, that didn't actually address that I knew practically NOTHING about neurology. Recovering gynecologist, remember?

But it turned out to be a pretty good month. I had good attendings and reasonable residents and my co-intern was AWESOME. I had a nice white cloud for call. I caught some really interesting cases. And generally, I had a good time. Notably, I was the only one in my class who actually liked their neuro month...

So, today? Not so bad. And I get two days off in compensation for this, one of which I'm taking tomorrow.

Which is useful, because I could really use some sleep. Yesterday was loooong. I went for coffee, then did the headless chicken thing preparing for Cleo's not-a-baby-shower (nothing like doing it all in the last few hours before the party, you know?). Then, of course, was the actual not-a-shower. Which was a lot of fun. Fewer people actually showed up than had RSVP'd, but we had lots of fun, even if there was too much cake (is there such a thing?).

I ran home, showered, ran and picked Maggie from my folks', ran to drop her off at home, and then ran to Jen and Bill's. A bunch of us went to a not-so-local haunted house last night.

I'll be honest. I had significant reservations about this. We didn't leave until 7:30 pm, which I knew was not going to get me home at any reasonable hour. I was crabby and wanted to hide from the world before I even got to Jen and Bill's. And, let's be frank - PTSD girl in a Haunted House? Not necessarily the best idea. But I like my friends. And it's fall. And really, why be responsible?

It was okay. I enjoyed the time with my people. The Haunted House itself was pretty good. The headless horseman rode up on a real horse! I, however, spent too much time figuring out what was going to jump out at me from where, which figures were props and which ones were people. I don't really relish that feeling. I don't really like being scared - it brings up too much. I don't like people getting up in my face. It was reassuring knowing that they weren't allowed to touch me, but they came closer than a bratty younger brother in the backseat who's "not touching you! Not touching you!". On the whole, thought, it was fine. And I enjoyed the drive there and back and the silliness waiting in line (for-ev-er). And my friends were pretty amusing to watch going through the haunted house.

I did get insulted by a redneck zombie, though. He came up to me and said, "Looks like we could feed on this one for a couple of months." I was pretty pissed about that. In fact, I'm still kind of pissed about it. But, then again, he did invite me to stay for dinner....

Saddle up

So I survived my first day back on the Child Psychiatry inpatient service. Rounds lasted for-ev-er (over half our service was new from the weekend), but aside from that, it was decent. I'm glad to be back on the inpatient psychiatry horse.

Peng and I did this focus group this evening, which was a new and different experience. It was us, six oncologists, and one rehab doc talking about how the state medical society could be useful to us. It really underscored the difference between the specialties and sets up a bit how the split of "us" and "them" arises. They complained about faltering NIH funding (a very valid concern); we were moaning about already dwindling state monies being allocated away from those who need it (we were all bitching about access to care). One of them spends four days a week researching leukemia in dogs. Which, if I - or for that matter, my dog - ever get leukemia, I would absolutely go to her. Her research has the potential to save lives. Meanwhile, though, I'm talking one of my adults off a ledge and trying to manage a kid who's been completely overmedicated by his community provider. Which, when you get down to the impact each of us makes, is equally important; my "life saving" efforts are on a more individualized scale, but they're relevant nonetheless. I totally felt like they - who work literally yards away from us - were way up in the ivory tower, while we were down digging in the trenches. It was an interesting perspective. And, I'm quite certain, not at all the point of the focus group.

Of course, by that analogy...the hospital Starbucks must be the entrance to the castle.

I'd always suspected as much......

Last of the good Mondays

So I think I mentioned JD and I have been doing this Monday/Friday coverage swap on the consult service, and I haven't had to go in on Mondays. I overslept this morning, went to the gym, ran some errands, took my mom to the oncologist (so far, so good), had dinner with my folks.

It's been a nice way of doing things, but today was my last Monday at home. Which is actually okay - I have one more week on Consults, but next week we're swapping because a week from Friday I'm going to the BEACH. I so, totally, completely, cannot wait.

And then I come back, and start on the Child inpatient unit, and then it's back to long days and a real workweek again...le sigh....

And then there's the very short chairs

Ten ways you know you're a child psychiatrist:

1. Whatever it is, you don't prescribe it unless you know if it comes in a liquid.

2. There's a dollhouse in your office.

3. You're standing in the Barnes and Noble, and realize that the blood-curdling wails of the child melting down in the Kids' section for the last ten minutes didn't even make a ding on your radar (this might have happened to me yesterday).

4. You've spent an entire therapy session playing chess, and gathered a lot of data from that.

5. You realize that half the notes you've taken lately are in crayon.

6. You frequently have to stop yourself from turning to strangers' children and saying "1.....2....."

7. You often resist the urge to do the same to your colleagues.

8. You think the whole world can be explained by attachment theory.

9. You can speak for a good five minutes entirely using acronyms.

10. Your patients repeatedly use nonsense words, Twilight references, and text speak in therapy sessions (ZOMG!).

I so love my job.

Not bad, for a Monday

So there's two of us Fellows on Consults right now, and the service just isn't that busy. So at the recommendation of one of the upper levels, we've been splitting the service. He takes all the consults on Mondays, I take all the consults on Fridays, and Tuesday is a toss up. So technically, I got to work from home today. But, since I'm caught up on my paperwork, I spent the day catching up on other things - laundry, unpacking, napping. I started the day at coffee, which was great because the usual weekday morning crew was there but we had a couple of less-common visitors, whom it was nice to see. I bought some groceries. I hung out with my parents. The dog and I hung out and played a little Wii.

A doc could get used to this.

Wordful Wednesday

So today was my first day at the State Hospital outpatient clinic.

It was unceremonious and overwhelming.

But none of my patients showed up, which is a little weird for that setting.

We spend all day there on Wednesdays and the afternoons there on Thursdays. So I have a meeting tomorrow, then a lecture, then supervision, then two therapy patients. BUT! The morning County clinic is canceled, so I have to morning to myself. I'm going to go to coffee, then maybe the gym, then I'm going to get to SH a little early and continue setting up my office.

I have a private office all to myself. Where I will do therapy. And I LOVE it. 

There's a little short table with little short chairs. There's a chalkboard and a bookshelf with toys. I have a dollhouse and a deck of cards and a plastic dinosaur. And I hit up the "toy room" today for crayons, markers, and colored pencils (since most of my patients are teenagers). I'd like a little different furniture, but I fully intend to make that place all mine for the next two years. Today after clinic I went to Staples and bought some...well, you know.

No clinic. Fresh office supplies. Tomorrow morning is going to be just like Christmas. Only warmer, and will feature me trying to clean the mildew out of the air conditioner vents...

Monday

Not so manic. For once.

Difficult, though. I rounded with the pedes neuro team this am. I did that last Monday, too, and I really like the team. But it's a striking reminder of why I didn't go into pediatrics. When things get so sad that *I* can't tolerate it, I think that's significant. The days-old baby who wouldn't stop seizing did me in today.

I also had to do some finagling with the upcoming beach trip, but I think we picked a better house. And I think it's going to work. Or at least, I really, really hope so....

I need some beach.

The long and the short of it

So, last week, when I heard that my cousin wasn't doing so well, I made plans in my head. Who was going to cover for me, what I needed to reschedule at work, who was going to check up on my mom and dad while I was gone, what would need to happen if they wanted to go with, what arrangements needed to be made so I could represent the family in a difficult time. And I had a plan. Alls I needed, though, of course, was....a plan.

So here's something I know about myself: I'm not as proactive as I might seem. I'm actually very reactive - and though I may come up in advance with alternate scenarios of how to deal with various permutations of what "might" happen, I rarely act until I have something to which I can react. So although by the time I got the news of her actual passing I had three (hundred) possible scenarios lined up for the various dates and times they could hold the services...my family actually had to, you know, tell me what I was doing. Which contingency to activate.

As it turns out, they had some difficulty getting my cousin's body released to the out-of-state funeral home (I was thinking about this yesterday. I can't even begin to figure that one out. It's not like they can just strap her in the car and go...), so we didn't have actual plans until this afternoon. The funeral is Wednesday. Okay, I thought, check. Commence with plan for Wednesday!

Until, of course, my other cousin, her brother, called me and said, "Don't come."

I...huh?

And then my uncle texted and was like, "You shouldn't go."

Um.

Both of them, I think, were looking out for me. My cousin's point was that I had my hands full and should use my time to come at a happier occasion (like an upcoming wedding, he suggested. To which I haven't been invited, actually...). He's not wrong - my cup definitely runneth over right now (Happy first day of fellowship! Here's our policy on bereavement leave). But...later isn't really the point....

And so I polled my coworkers. I argued with my parents. I felt confused and abandoned. And then I did what I should've done in the very first place - I emailed my deceased cousin's oldest daughter - who, frankly, also seems to have an interest in healing this rift in the family - and I said, "What is it that *you* want me to do?"

She said, "Come be with us."

And so go I shall.

Done.

It also didn't help that today - my very first day of fellowship!! - I rounded with the pedi neurology team. Whoa. That was...devastating. In the middle of rounds we got called to do a brain death exam on a four year old who'd been found floating in a pool. EMS and the ER had apparently worked on this kid for over an hour to get any signs of life back.

We walked into the patient's room, right, and there, amidst multiple IV lines, tubes, wires, fluids running with life-maintaining meds, there in this chaos was one of the most beautiful, sweet little cherubs I'd ever seen in my life. Who was, very clearly from the moment I walked through the door, merely a shell. What the family describes as a vibrant, friendly, personable and loving child was simply gone. There was just nothingness. And my heart broke.

Life and death...it always amazes me. One expects trumpets, fanfare, a glowing ball of light, something, right? But in truth, the line is remarkably blurry. You're alive; you're dead. It's a process, usually. What is that moment of crossing over? Does it happen at physiologic death? Brain death? Some time before or after either of those? Where is that innocent little soul tonight?

Still what I think

First and foremost, a happy Mothers' Day to all of you who are moms, will be moms, or have a mom (so, if you were born, I'm probably talking to you). But, most importantly, to my mom. Hi, Mom!

Go read this. It's Bob Greene's column on this Mothers' Day. It's lovely.

I had this whole blog post written, ranting about silly things like transcription software and being on call (which I am), but then I decided I was done being grumpy.

I probably should go see if my intern wants me to see anyone in the ER...there's a couple of people down there for us, but he has a solid medical student, and I don't know who we have and haven't been called on, yet. So I'm waiting for him to call me.

I saw the consult list this morning, passed the buck on a couple of them, nodded at a couple others ("You still okay? Okay."), wrote some notes. I got caught up on my dictations, read CNN.com, called my mom and dad (Hi, Mom and Dad!). There's people everywhere outside, because it's graduation day at Baby Blue. I'd complain about how they took away my close parking (that's the only redeeming thing about weekend call!), but, I said I was done being grumpy. And, on the whole, I can't complain too much about today.

I could wax philosophic, I suppose, on mom-ness, but, I did that at length last year. I still think parenting is the most important job, ever. In all the ways it can be done.

It's been brought to my attention this year that one of the benefits of having child therapy patients is, to quote one of my mentors, "you have a real opportunity to be, yourself, a developmental object for them." I think about that a lot, with my two adolescent therapy cases. It's interesting to me, actually - I feel like I'm way more invested, far more present in the room and "settled" (ahem) in those cases than I am with my adults. I wonder what that's about. I suspect it says something both about how I respond to them and how they respond to me. Gosh, I do enjoy those two kids, though. They really are just amazing, amazing women-in-training.

I will say, though, I'm glad they're still attaching to me and I'm not the object of their separation-individuation efforts, yet. Wow, Moms of teenagers, that's rough for everyone involved.

It's so funny, really, to me, to think about where I was 53 weeks ago (completely terrified of the Child and Adolescent rotation) compared to where I was one week ago (freaked out about potentially not getting a Child and Adolescent fellowship). The beginning of my personal statement was this story from med school:

In medical school (back when I thought I was going to be a high-risk obstetrician), I remember having a conversation with a friend of mine who was going to become a pediatrician. He was discussing how he was thinking of doing a fellowship in Adolescent Medicine, and I shuddered a little. “Adolescents are mean,” I told him, “even meaner than kids.” He laughed and said he knew me better than to believe that I meant that, and added something contrived about how one day I would change my mind. “Nuh-uh,” I declared, and in my best childish form, stuck my tongue out at him.

Five years later, he has a general pediatrics practice, and I find myself yet again humbled by my life’s irony.

(Have I mentioned how excited I am that I get to be a fellow? That's just so weird...)

Oh, and in totally unrelated news, did I mention that, when I leave in the morning, I'll be on vacation for a week? I'm not actually going anywhere...I'm going to try to find a new apartment and figure out when I can move and pack up as much shit as possible. And sleep in, and eat things that don't come from a freezer, a drive-through, or a hospital cafeteria, and hang out with my dog, and watch the TV shows I follow, when they're actually on, even if they're reruns, just because I can. And not see patients, and leave my voicemail to the very competent Peng, and maybe read a book that has nothing to do with psychiatry. And pay my bills, and go to the gym, and see my shrink (who's been on her own vacation for three weeks).

I might need two weeks...

Oh, but when I was looking through last May's postings to try and find the one about moms, I realized that once again, I'd missed the fact that May is Mental Health Awareness Month. I don't think that's such a good sign, that the psych department doesn't seem to be very aware of this...so, I don't think it's workin', y'all....

Good news.

So the decision finally came down today - I'm going to be a child fellow for the '10-'12 fellowship class!

It's going to be me, Peng, Mike, Cleo, and Fang, and JD is going to be doing a research-based fellowship. I'm really glad they managed to accommodate everyone and their interests, because I really like these people!

Peng, Sparrow, Ruthie and I went out to celebrate tonight at the restaurant where Chef chefs. I had this phenomenal mac 'n' cheese made with Gruyere (mmmm), and of course more lemon tart (gosh, that's a good restaurant, although I have to say, the main draw is, of course, Chef). And they sent us out a bottle of champagne, with which we toasted, as Sparrow put it, good things happening to good people.

I'm so excited!!