A lot has happened since December 3rd, when I last posted (as Y reminds me every day as he checks this blog in vain).
On December 3rd, I was just a naive Southern girl who thought that this was a lot of snow:
And then this happened:
Okay, maybe that’s a hole in the ground. It was more like this:
Since December 3rd, I’ve become obsessed with a teen movie (Pitch Perfect) and not twenty minutes ago, when I wanted to trim my bangs, I turned to Seventeen Magazine for advice. I think my brain is Benjamin Buttoning. But at least my freshly trimmed bangs look good.
In the last month, I’ve slipped on the ice at a busy corner and landed on my ass. Minnesota rite of passage?
In the last few weeks, Y got a gold tooth and will henceforth be known as ¥.
And finally, in the last month I’ve realized two things:
1. My life, thankfully, no longer revolves around med school/residency. Sure, it’s still a big part of our lives –I still only understand 5% of what ¥ says — but now I have other things to worry about. I know people who have nothing to do with medicine! More to the point – I have other things to blog about. My little blog is still fairly little (despite being mentioned on a super famous blog), but it has grown to the point where more than just medical spouses read it.
2. The resources out there for spouses of medical people continually frustrate me. If you’re not incredibly religious or have a bunch of kids, there just isn’t much out there to work with.
Keeping those things in mind, I’ve decided to start a little community specifically for medical spouses.
If you happen to have strong feelings for someone who is a doctor/doctor adjacent, you should check it out! Medicine: A Love Story will be home to my weird residency-related stories (some of which I’ll still post here), but also things a lot of my new, non-medical blog friends won’t care about – advice, link ups, and more of a community feel.
Here at Just Dand¥, I’ll keep writing about our lives (well, like I used to prior to December 3rd). In fact, I’ve got a post lined up about how I was hit on by an 8 year old. (That says HIT ON, not SHIT ON — even I had to read it twice.)
Happy New Year!