The Newlywed Game

I've seen some other blogs today doing the Newlywed Game in honor of V-day, so if I can get Nick to cooperate, I'm gonna do the same. I don't think these are the best questions ever, but I'm too lazy to make up my own at this late hour. Here we go!

Where was your first date?

{MR} Olive Garden, right?

{MRS} Olive Garden

Where was your first kiss?

{MR} Uh, I don't remember

{MRS} Oh, this sounds so bad... Nick's hotel room. Innocent, I promise!

 

Who said "I Love You, first"?

{MR}  Me!

{MRS} Nick

Which of the following breakfast cereals best describes your wife's family's opinion of you when they first met you? Crazy Flakes, Just Right, Frosted Flakes, Lucky Charms, or Fruit Loops?

{MR} Just Right

{MRS} Just Right

Your wife is waiting at the doctor's office. Which magazine will she read? Good Housekeeping, People, Glamour, or Coastal Living?

{MR} Glamour

{MRS} None. I always bring a medical journal.

If she were ordering drinks at a restaurant for dinner for both of you, what would she order?

{MR} her water, me Dr. Pepper

{MRS} water for me, Dr. Pepper for him

 

Which of these does your husband have the most of: sense of humor, sense of time, or sense of adventure?

{MR} sense of humor

{MRS} sense of time

How many pair of your wife's shoes would you say that are not in the closet right now?

{MR} 4

{MRS} 3

What is his ultimate favorite movie?

{MR} That would take weeks to decide. Right now The Dark Knight

{MRS} Uh, Reservoir Dogs?

Which one of you hogs the bed covers at night?

{MR} you

{MRS} yeah, me

 

Who is better at handling money?

{MR} equal

{MRS} not me, so Nick

If you could have a second honeymoon, where would your wife want you to take her?

{MR} Hawaii

{MRS} St. Lucia

What is the messiest room in your house?

{MR} the garage

{MRS} the whole thing

What did you have for dinner the night you got married?

{MR} chicken, and I can't remember what else

{MRS} chicken, beef (no idea what kind), mashed potatoes, green beans (?), rolls, salad, white cake, chocolate cake

How long does your husband spend in the shower?

{MR} 5 minutes

{MRS} 6 minutes

 

Which of the following Valentine's Gifts would your wife prefer the most: a beautiful bouquet of two dozen red roses, you offering to clean the house for a month, or a one hour massage given by you?

{MR} an hour massage

{MRS} clean the house fo sho!

Who is the most patient in your marriage?

{MR} you, no, well, me

{MRS} hmm, we take turns, depending on the situation.

When was the last time your wife went to the dentist?

{MR}3 months ago

{MRS} 8 months ago, eek!

What is your husband's favorite breakfast food?

{MR} pancakes

{MRS} sausage

On average, how long does it take your wife to get ready to go out?

{MR} an hour

{MRS} an hour

 

If you husband could only have one of the following desserts, which would he choose: cheesecake, apple pie, ice cream, chocolate pie?

{MR} chocolate pie, that's not even fair

{MRS} chocolate pie, duh

On average, how much does your wife spend at the grocery store?

{MR} $80

{MRS} $120/week total

Who gets along better with the in-laws?

{MR} me

{MRS} Nick

 

Who was the first person you told about your engagement?

{MR} your mom

{MRS} technically Jen because she helped Nick plan. But my parents are the first people we called.

 

Any questions you want to add to the list?

{MR} absolutely not

{MRS} then I guess we're done here

Bethie's bad day chicken

So the last week at work has been a tough one. I'll not air my grievances here in cyberspace, but suffice it to say I've been discouraged. Needless to say I've not been uber motivated to cook. I really just want to order pizza. But then I remember that I'm almost 31 (I have a few more hours left to be 30) and can't eat whatever I want anymore so I decide I'm even less in the mood to get fat than to cook so I start scouring the pantry. And here's what ya get, Bethie stream of consciousness style.
Start with two chicken breasts. Thank goodness you bought fresh instead of the usual frozen because you totally would have forgotten to defrost them in your work-induced funk. Pound them with a meat hammer to flatten to 1/4" thick. Whew. Doesn't it feel good to whack your anger out on innocent poultry? Dredge in flour and pan fry in a drizzle of olive oil 5-6 minutes per side.
While the chicken sizzles (oh, that sound is satisfying) open the fridge and stare. Oh, I could use the rest of that tiny bottle of wine I opened for... Huh, what did I use that for? Can't remember. Moving on. And maybe some garlic. Oh, I forgot about that beef broth! I need to make something with beef later this week. Maybe a roast. Or stroganoff. Mental note taken. Back to the chicken. Broth. I need broth. Oh, time to remove the chicken and deglaze the pan. Hmm, not quite a half cup of wine but that'll do. Turn it up, let it simmer until reduced by half. Seriously, how do you judge that? OK, mix a little flour in the broth. Stupid lumps. Where's my tiny whisk? OK, pour in lumpy broth. Turn up heat and boil. Hmm, maybe a little thyme? Or sage? Hold them both up to the baby for her opinion. No, Elle, sorry, Mommy's not in the mood for sage. We're going with thyme. Just like a half teaspoon. And a big scoop of garlic. Yes, the jarred stuff. I'm way too lazy to chop garlic today, although whacking it open with the flat side of the knife is also quite satisfying. Simmer until thickened or about 3 minutes. Meanwhile nuke the frozen green beans you bought for the baby that she refuses to eat so now you and the hubby are chipping away at that giant bag. Plate your chicken and beans, pour sauce over all. Hmm, not bad for being made up as you go. And funny, your bad day seems a little better. And you don't even have to feel guilty for eating pizza.
Kinda makes you glad you live in your head, not mine, huh?

Battle of the sexes: Creating a monster

I think I've mentioned before that Nick has become a Banana Republic man, a fact I (previously) took credit for and proudly so. It all started with a silk cashmere blend sweater. ("Sweaters are itchy. Hmm, this one's kinda nice.") And then the slim cut, no-iron dress shirt. And wool trousers. (He  now actively snubs polyester.) And then we moved up to the big leagues - a charcoal herringbone suit. And you're not gonna believe this, but my husband, self-proclaimed Nick "Not That Guy" Scholz owns a navy blue half-zip sweater. BR is like yuppie crack. And crack always leads to problems. See below.

This is a picture of our closet. The halfway point is marked by the red arrow.

And what is that on the left (aka Bethie's side) of halfway? Well, cyber friends, the blue arrow indicates a pair of Nick's dress pants. It used to be 70/30, then 60/40, and now...his clothes actually cross into my territory. Pure insanity.

Moral of the story: Be careful what you wish for and even more careful when you take your man shopping to your favorite stores.

Look who's walking

I have purposefully not posted Elle videos because I know they just aren't entertaining unless you're me (or my mom). But I couldn't help myself this time. Check out Ellison's (almost) first steps!

I think we're alone now

Last weekend Jen came over for a little BFF time, by which I mean baking and then eating something delicious. Nick had planned to go out to a movie, but he got sick and ended up staying at home. He hid out in the bedroom so as not to invade our girl time. Or so we thought.

Jen: Did you know that Ke$ha's actually really smart?
Me: No way.
Jen: Yeah, she got like a 1500 on her SAT or something. And went to school somewhere impressive.
Me: Like Cindy Crawford, right?
[yelling from the other room] Nick: Not that I'm listening, but didn't Ke$ha also say she talks to ghosts?
Me: Can't say I'd heard that one.
Nick: So yeah, I don't think I'd put too much stock in her SAT scores. I don't think anyone who says they talk to ghost could really be that smart. [pause] OK, I'm done. I'll leave you alone now.

The 30 day challenge

So the Christian radio station in Houston does this campaign every January, encouraging people to listen only to Christian music (ie, their station) for a month. You know... good stuff in, good stuff out and all that jazz. I've always ignored it, but this year I thought maybe I should give it a whirl. Something about the looming idea of Elle repeating everything I say has that effect on me.
With that background in mind, picture me in my car yesterday, at a standstill on the highway amidst dense fog and thousands of other commuters. Pardon all the capital letters and excessive punctuation, but I have no other means to adequately convey my emotions via type.

Traffic girl: Well, there's significant fog this morning, limiting visibility to zero in some places. [tone of astonished wonder]
Me: I know.
TG: No incidents to report, but there's some major slow downs because of that fog. So pack your patience. [you can actually hear her smiling]
Me: Pack your patience, pack your patience. [read again in nasally sarcastic whining tone] OK, I know I should repent of mocking you, but YOU ARE SO NOT HELPFUL RIGHT NOW!!!!
TG: Good job out there avoiding those accidents. Remember, keep your distance from other cars.
Me: What?! And invite everybody out here to cut me off? I don't think so.
TG: And slow down your speeds.
Me: IT ISN'T POSSIBLE TO GO ANY SLOWER THAN STOPPED!!! I don't want to go slower; I want to go FASTER!!
TG: We'll do another update on traffic in 15 minutes.
Me: You are SO annoying. I don't want to hear from you anymore.

Somehow I don't think that's the effect for which the well-meaning souls at the radio station were aiming. But I'm sticking it out, even though it meant listening to her FOUR TIMES on the way to work yesterday. I can't wait for February 1.

The waiting game

I'm on call this weekend. Boo. It really isn't that bad; I mean, it's nothing like being on call in residency. I just sit at home with the pager and only come in if there's a new consult. Which means I spend my weekend watching the clock, waiting and wishing and hoping and rationalizing.

OK, 8 am and all is well. So there wasn't anyone who came in overnight they want me to see.

OK, 9 am and all is well. Nobody in the ICU because they always call those early.

OK, 10 am and all is well. But don't get too comfy, Beth. This is the witching hour for consults.

OK, 11 am and all is well. They should all be done with rounds by now, so you should be about in the clear. But still don't get too comfy. Sometimes they get doing other stuff and don't call you until the last minute.

OK, 12 noon and all is well. You should be good. Anything routine can just be seen tomorrow. But ug, what if something rolls into the ICU? Or what if they call you to see that lady on 8N again? No, you just saw her yesterday. You should be good. But what if...

And so I while away the afternoon. I finally settle down about 4:00 and manage to enjoy the rest of my day. That usually entails a trip to the grocery store, DSW, +/-Hobby Lobby.