The scientific method

I fell off the horse but got back in the sewing saddle, boys and girls. I decided to approach this incredibly difficult straight seam methodically, and change one variable at a time until I figured out what exactly was going wrong. We'll skip the long tale of woe (with more gnashing of teeth) and cut to the part where I realized that the extra bobbins I'd bought were a close but not quite exactly perfect fit for my machine.
Therein lay the source of my frustration!

The situation was quickly resolved by emptying and re-using an old bobbin. Approximately fiften minutes later, we find ourseleves at the end not of a sad tale of woe, but a triumphant legend of victory!

Aren't they lovely? Exactly like I'd imagined in my head.

The pink ribbon tabs put them over the top. I'm still swooning.



I sure hope Elle likes pink!

Ad lib

Dinner tonight was broccoli turkey casserole. A casserole just seems like the thing to do when trying to use up leftover anything, especially Thanksgiving turkey. So I perused recipes but sadly lacked a couple ingredients for any of them. So I went crazy, willy nilly style in the kitchen, and just... Made. It. Up. And you guys know what a rule-follower I am. The recipe is king. But not today.I decided to prepare a response just in case Nick thought it was gross:

(Apologetically, with my eyebrows raise and nose crinkled)

Yeah, I just made it up. Entirely from stuff we already had open or leftover. I mean, it's based loosely on a few different recipes, but I kinda winged it. I really threw it together in like 15 minutes.

Now imagine Nick really liked it, which by the way he did. Read the same statement above, but imagine my head cocked haughtily to the side with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder.

The spin doctor is in the house.

Sew simple

I have come to a realization. I know you're dying to know what it is, so I'll tell you.

I don't enjoy sewing.

I really want to, but I just don't.

I want to be that girl who whips up cute, ruffly aprons and the mom who cranks out her kids' Halloween costumes every year. But I never will be. Because I don't like sewing.

As I observed at our impromptu Pearland girls' craft fest* last night, I find sewing both tedious and unforgiving. Some say the same about baking, but the organic chemistry of it all makes sense in my head. I can predict the wiley moves of my flour and eggs and butter (oh my!), but sewing is all physics and geometry to me. And I hate physics and geometry. There's no chance for salvage in sewing. It's a start-over or a throw-away kind of deal.
I'd originally planned on using this post to show off pictures of Elle's new curtains, but me and my sewing machine are taking some time apart to cool down after after much wailing and gnashing of teeth (not just on my end) because that devil machine doesn't really like heavy-duty thread and keeps jamming in protest. (It's definitely not operator error. Just isn't. Can't be.)
But I'm close to finishing. Sew, sew close. Just need to finish the top seam across the pink ribbon tabs of the second panel. Don't give up hope; pictures still to come. Once I finish that seam and sweet-talk Nick into installing the curtain rod. So maybe by this time next year. :)


*The husbands came over here to watch "The Walking Dead," so I invited myself elsewhere. We had a grand time with chocolate caramel cookies, brownies, crochet, and sewing.

Muckraker

Yeesh. I'm finally home. This Thanksgiving call was proving not just easy but downright peaceful until this afternoon. Then I got a call from a team wanting help managing a steroid dose. Apparently they forgot the second commandment of rheumatology: Don't muck with the steroids. Oh, I should probably mention that this man has been admitted for almost two weeks. But they didn't want help with the steroids Monday through Friday between 8am and 5pm. No, it occurred to them to ask for my help Saturday afternoon over a holiday weekend. Two hours of chart-sifting and family-calling and other-doctor-calling later, my answer is still... don't muck with the steroids.

Bah humbug. I think I need some hot chocolate and sewing and maybe even chocolate for dinner. That will make my bad day better. Hopefully I'll have pictures of baby room curtains to post soon!

Peer pressure

Have you noticed the plethora of "thankful" postings on Facebook, blogs, etc? Everybody's doing it, which got me thinking I should do it, too. My wave of gratitude is really tied to a very sad situation I saw in clinic yesterday morning. I don't want to make you sad, too, so suffice it to say that at least one of the things on my list was inspired by my interaction with this woman. Don't worry; I have no intention of getting sentimental.But I do have a lot for which to be most supremely thankful. So here goes:

1) my husband for loving me every day even when I don't make it easy
2) my work because I will always be employable somewhere, even if that somewhere is Wichita Falls
3) Izzy and sometimes Jonesy and even sometimes Dallas for the playful joy, unswerving loyalty, and hours of free entertainment they give us
4) my health because I have too much to do to be slowed down by sickness
5) Reese's peanut butter cups because sometimes I just can't decide between chocolate and peanut butter
6) my little gestating Gizmo soon to be known as Ellison Avery because I love her already and really want a baby even though I can't think of a single logical reason why
7) the organic chemistry lab that taught me not to be scared of baking because even though it was horrible I wouldn't have my favorite hobby without it
8) Cole Haan shoes because they really are more comfy with those amazing Nike Air soles and I really can stay on my feet longer without getting whiney
9) my family because for better or for worse they made me who I am, cowlick and all
10)  all the dear, dear friends who loved me along the way while I became who I am - you should each get your own spot on the list! (Shout out especially to Jen, Angela, Cassandra, Mike and Kristen, the other Mike, Meagan, and the other Kristen! I'm sure I'll remember someone else later, and I'm sorry, and I love you!)
11) prayers that get answered just before I'm about to give up
12) that dreaded Tuesday night shift at Cricket's seven (seven!) years ago, when I met my Mr. Right (see #1 above)

I could keep going, but I think that covers the high points. Happy Thanksgiving!

A different kind of rain

It looked like rain all day today, but the sky never made good on that threat. There was, however, another kind of shower...my baby shower! Yay! The church girls pulled off a fantastic pink and aqua Texas theme, complete with little pink cowboy boots and glittery silver stars. And man, did I get some stuff!

It's late, so here's just a few pictures to accommodate my adoring far-away fans.

Meagan made cupcake decorations - white chocolate Texas-es.

Pink cowboy boots as vases. Too much cuteness for one day.

My friend Federica (from residency) flew all the way from Nashville. Isn't she fabulous?

I opened a LOT of presents. And I think this is a pretty accurate representation of the current  Bethie to baby bump ratio.

Which is the mother, and which is the daughter?

Ellison and I feel very loved. Nick does, too, except for the part where he had to carry everything inside. And PS, I miss everyone who couldn't come. You'll just have to visit once she's actually here!

Scrap and tell

I should be reading something academic. Something rheumatologic. But I'm not. Because that wouldn't make your day any better or brighter. Unless you have lupus. Which you don't. Because it just isn't lupus. But moving on. Here are a few of may favorite recent scrapbook pages. This is my less-intrusive way of making you look at my pages. Much better than showing up at your front door, scrapbook in hand, right?

Anything that looks particularly cool or requires special tools is probably a product of my scrapapalooza weekend with Angela.  Pictures of pictures don't really do justice to the original photograph or my evolving scrappy craftiness, but these are the best I can do with a point-and-shoot camera and zero photography skills. Hey, I can't be good at everything.

Who knew peeing on a stick would make such good scrapbook material?

And a smattering of our fake engagement photos. I just can't give Kristen Stewart enough credit for these. I like the angle of the camera in this one and how we are straight on when the photo is a little tilted.

Rolled flowers really intimidated me. But turns out, they're one of the easier things to make yourself. Now I use them a lot. A lot a lot a lot.

And here's my solution to the predicament of not being able to pick black-and-white or color.

Thanks for visiting. Happy hump day!

Battle of the sexes: hot wheels

Believe it or not, my trusty Blazer has seen better days. It's been a faithful companion from Wichita Falls to Waco and beyond. But I get to drive the Pathfinder and just reminisce about my old car while Nick actually deals with it. Getting to the point: we're finally talking about actually buying a new car. Not today, but soon. Soon-ish.

Nick wants a Camaro.

I say fine. As long as you can fit a car seat in the back.

So we went on a field trip to the Chevy dealer, car seat in tow.

Before I make myself sound like an old ball and chain, mind you that Nick was a little disappointed in the quality of the interior, the pick-up on acceleration, and the enormous blind spot. I'm not the only rain on his Camaro parade. But back to my story...
The car seat fits in the back seat. Technically. As in, you have to put the passenger seat all the way up and collapsed forward and then kinda jimmy the car seat sideways to wedge it through the hole. [Disclaimer: No babies were harmed during this demonstration.] And then the passenger (that would be me) has to sit with her seat leaning a little forward and her forehead almost in the windshield. But technically, the car seat fits.
Nick commented later in the day on the death of his dream. I told him I was sorry he ended up disappointed. He replied...

Eh, it's no big deal. Now I'll just have to get an Infiniti.

Digging a hole

This morning in Sunday school, there was an announcement asking for volunteers to help with the senior adult Christmas party. One guy commented how there's a job for everyone; he even got talked into being Santa Claus one year. Nick leaned over to me and whispered, "Hey, you could be Santa Claus this year!" I can only assume this has something to do with my jolly, round belly.
But anyway... apparently he didn't whisper as quietly as he thought because the entire room burst into laughter and comments about how somebody's in the doghouse or sleeping on the couch or whatnot. The problem is, I just can't be mad at him. First off, he bought me my Kate Spade baby bag, so he's got some extra points built up. And even I have to admit... it was pretty funny. Well played, my dear. Very well played.

Honey, I'm hoooooome!

Does it feel like it's been a while? Well, it has. I've been in Chicago, Chicago (da doo dee da daah) for the last week for the annual ACR convention (ie rheumatology nerds of the world unite!). I certainly enjoyed my visit to the Windy City because it is, after all, the best city in the whole world. I even managed to talk the girls into eating Pizzeria Uno's deep dish with me. Yum! And not to mention that I learned a thing or two at the actual convention. However, it's nice to be home.
But you know the story of my life. No rest for the weary. We all have to present something we learned tomorrow morning in conference. Thank you, Dr An, for the most excellent talk on cervical spine surgery in rheumatic diseases. Just what I needed. And a new consult waiting for me at the hospital tomorrow. No, it isn't lupus, or in this case rheumatoid arthritis. But I guess I shouldn't put that in the chart until I actually examine the patient, huh?
I guess that's enough random ramblings for the evening. I blame the irksome viral URI I acquired in Chi-town and my gestating fetus for hogging all the blood that's supposed to go to my brain. I mean that with nothing but love, Elle. (What if she reads this someday?! Can't have her thinking momma doesn't love her!) OK. Must stop. Making less and less sense as I go. For reals this time... Peace.

Fly on the wall

Overheard between two medical students:

Student #1: Yeah, I think I wanna do surgery or maybe anesthesia.
Student #2: Oh yeah? Why?
Student #1: I don't wanna do medicine because I don't wanna have to know that much stuff.

Sigh. I reached deep inside and found the composure not to make a scene. But really? Really? Maybe we should be like England where they call internists "Doctor" and surgeons "Mister." Because as this student has so astutely observed, too many of them just aren't real doctors. And I'll leave it at that.

PS Student #1 proceded to brag about being an Aggie. Coincidence? Perhaps. Or perhaps not.