semisweet&nuts

hello (again)

Hello, internet! Rather than try to recap the past 6 months (including vacations to AZ and CA, as well as many many work trips… whoops!), I’m just going to be current, and hopefully stay current, especially with so many changes on the horizon. What changes? See below! I hope to make this a place where I can document my new adventures, both for my own benefit, but also for my friends, family and various internet creepsters.

1. Yesterday Bryce defended his PhD thesis! He’s now Doctor Bryce! He’s in good company: Dr. Oz, Dr. Phil, Dr. Seuss, Dr. Dre, Dr. Scholl’s, Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, Dr. Dolittle, Dr. Huxtable…

Anyway, I’m super proud of him! Even if he’s now officially more educated than me

2. Since Bryce skipped from bachelor’s degree to PhD, and never rounded the master’s degree base, he’s headed (back) to Stanford to get his MBA.

3. I’m going with! I’m leaving the Midwest (tear!) for some fun in the sun! This is obviously a bittersweet move for me since I love Chicago and all my family (human and canine) and friends who live here, but I’m also excited to live someplace new, meet a lot of new people, find a job I love (currently working on that) and go on boatloads of new adventures with the aforementioned good doctor. It doesn’t hurt that Palo Alto is an absolutely gorgeous place to be.

4. We’re driving the long way (not that there is a short way), and will be headed through the Badlands, as well as Seattle and other Pacific northwest towns. Super excited for this road trip!

5. More frequent updates to come (fingers crossed)!

cue Ben Folds’ “Philosophy”

I saw this phrase come up on my Google Reader today. I hadn’t heard it or seen it before, and I’m not even sure it can be attributed to good ole Teddy, but I find it to be completely true. I think I suffer from this a lot, as do most people of the Facebook Generation. We’re bombarded (by choice) by photos and stories of our acquaintances’ lives and we’re often left feeling bad about ourselves. Why haven’t I vacationed in the Mediterranean? Why don’t I own a condo? Why haven’t I cooked homemade gourmet meals every night this week and still manage to lose 25 lbs.? Before reading things like this, we might have been having a wonderful day, only to be taken down a few notches upon reading about our high school chemistry partner’s status update about their new fancy car. And it’s not that we’re not happy for our friends… it’s just the green-eyed monster coming out of us. Of course this keeping up with the Joneses happened long before Mark Zuckerberg was even born, but the advent of social media seems to have amplified it quite a bit.

I’m going to actively try and stop comparing myself to these people. Not because I don’t want what they have (I’ll take a European vacation any day… though they can keep their adorable babies for the time being), but because I can be happy with my own life and my own adventures along the way.

…hello out there!

So, yeah, juice cleanses are all the rage, right? I read a few reviews online, blah blah blah. The one that caught my eye was BluePrintCleanse’s Renovation cleanse. Six fresh juices a day. Delivered to your home. Makes you skinny (okay, not really). Then a friend of mine on Facebook posted that she was trying out a juice cleanse (and, based on the bottles she posted a photo of, it appears to be one from BluePrint). Now, I consider myself to be in reasonable shape and I am capable of making smart food choices (…when I want to). But drinking juice for six days straight is a little ridiculous. In college, I once tried eating just carrots for days straight. Just because. Because I thought it would be funny. Which is probably why this cleanse appeals to me now. Look at me, I’m drinking liquified spinach! Anyway, I looked into it and DUDES? It costs $75 A DAY. Four hundred and fifty stinking dollars to drink something that likely tastes like shit (and makes you shit). I could buy a juicer and make my own green water. Kinda bummed… it would have been an interesting journey.

gainful

Dudes! So much has happened in the past few weeks! Total whirlwind! Here’s a brief breakdown:

1. Got a job! I had interviewed a week or so before I got the offer (and I had thought it went really well and was getting a bit sad when I hadn’t heard anything back), got an offer on a Friday night, had to accept by that Monday, and started the Monday after that (last week). So far, I really like it. I’m working for an environmental consulting company, which is totally new for me but giving me an opportunity to learn a lot, as well as travel all over the country. I likely won’t be traveling very far any time soon, but I did go to the oh-so exotic Milwaukee last week! And a few suburbs this week! Also, they give us free beer and wine on Friday afternoons. What?

2. Since I got a job, I felt comfortable looking for an apartment. I would have had to look for one even if I hadn’t gotten a job, but I probably would have cried a lot since I’m seriously the poorest of the poor and writing checks for security deposits sucks even if you’re the richest of the rich. A new apartment needs to be acquired since current roommate Katie is moving in with her boyfriend. So, it’s basically an end of an era. I’ve lived in my current apartment for 3 years, which makes it the place I’ve lived the longest after the house I grew up in. I’m really going to miss it (specifically my in-unit laundry, dishwasher, ice/water in-door fridge, central AC and granite countertops), but I’m looking forward to living on my own. My new place is approximately 100 years old, and it definitely doesn’t have any of the things I listed in my current place, but I think a 24/7 underwear party and natural sunlight (my current place is a basement apartment) streaming from windows I can open might make up for it.

3. I got a haircut! Many cut! Despite Bryce’s wishes, I got bangs! Bryce claims that no one important has bangs… only models and actresses. To that I say PHOOEY! I am both important AND a model, so I am totally allowed to be in the chitty chitty bang bang club. I feel very vampy and am having fun with my new hair for the time being.

and the winner for best herb is…

Guys, I’ve been neglecting the internet. But here is something really special: basil infused lemonade. Drink of the summer, I’m telling you. I made it today and have been drinking it plain, but I think it would be delicious with some vodka, or even gin. I don’t like gin! But I bet I’d like it mixed with this! Make it. It sounds fancy, but it’s a cinch. And you’ll feel like Martha Stewart.

First, make the basil syrup:
1 handful fresh basil
2 cups sugar
1 cup water
Simmer all the ingredients until the sugar dissolves (~5 minutes). Cool, then fish out the basil leaves.

While the syrup is cooling, squeeze yo’ lemons. Hopefully you have a juicer (even a ghetto one). I don’t, so I used a fork and my non-existent arm muscles. Make it work.

Mix 1 part syrup, 1 part juice and 1 part water. Serve over ice. Tweak the ratio if you like things more sweet/tart/watered-down. Also tweak with alcohol.

the 1985 Spelling Bee Champion

You would think that being (f)unemployed would be conducive to making a lot of blog posts. Except I’m too busy doing things like applying for jobs (as of this morning I’ve applied for 68) and eating fruit snacks. I was joking to Katie that after I work out for the day I get really bored. Like, well, I’ve accomplished the one thing I need to do today, now what? In a horrible stroke of bad luck, it looks like Working on my Fitness might also be taken away from me for the time being. About three weeks ago my right foot started to hurt. It would mostly ache went I moved my foot a certain way, but I ignored it (duh). It’s gotten progressively worse and has caused me to both walk strangely and whine about it a lot. Due to the whining thing, Bryce has told me I have to go to the doctor. I’ve been avoiding it because of the whole no job thing, even though I still have insurance for a while. It’s just I’d rather spend my co-payments on things like muumuus and burritos.

Anyway, pretty much exactly two years ago I broke my butt. Well, no, I suffered a hamstring avulsion. Three of them. I’m going to post some stuff I wrote during that time in my life in a second, but out of this horrible stupid move on my part I met a wonderful doctor who I’m convinced saved my leg. Not like I was ever going to get my leg amputated or whatever, but the injury I suffered has a super small window in which surgery can be performed before the muscles retract and limited mobility becomes an issue. A lot of doctors would have told me to suck it up, but this dude believed me when I told him something was super wrong and he took action. Fast forward to now and my hurt-y foot, I knew that if I was going to spend my burrito and caftan money on someone, it needed to be him. I called this morning and since he’s The Best, I wouldn’t have been able to see him until the end of July. His new associate, who I haven’t met, could take me this Friday, so I’m seeing her. I’m sure she’ll be great since she works with a master, but I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t totally bummed that I’m not going to be able to see my favorite doctor and give him a life update. Hopefully my foot is no big deal and I’ll just have to wear a walking boot for a few weeks. In the middle of summer, fun.

—-
Here’s a bit of my writing from my 2009 injury. It’s not particularly relevant, except for being slightly cringe inducing as well as mildly amusing:

Originally written on June 23, 2009:

Ugh, so, Jenny’s bachelorette party was on Saturday and it was really fun! The scrapbooking portion of the night was kept to a minimum and the fun was at a maximum.But then we went back to the house we were all staying at and we started having a dance party and I decided it was time to do a kick line. So I’m doing my high kicks and decided it would be really great to go into the splits from a high kick like I used to do. You know, like I used to do OVER A DECADE AGO. Jesus Christ. Anyway, I did some serious damage to… something. Upper hamstring? Gluteus maximus? Minimus? Medius? Everyone has a different opinion. All I know is that I can’t walk. I just drag my leg behind me like something out of a horror movie. This dragging gimpish motion, in turn, has screwed up my back and my other leg by trying to compensate. Basically, I’m a giant mess. Oh, and I dread peeing because the toilet seat is really hard (the ONLY time I would ever be an advocate of those gross squishy toilet seats is if you broke your butt like me) and I need to lower myself like an old woman, wincing the entire time. I can’t get into see a doctor until Thursday morning so until then I’m coming dangerously close to overdosing on ibuprofen and giving my ass frostbite. But, in really exciting news, the sports medicine doctor I’m seeing is the 1985 National Spelling Bee champion. So even if he can’t fix my butt he’ll be able to spell my diagnosis and the muscles involved correctly and enthusiastically. I just hope he doesn’t ask me the origin of the word or air-spell it on his palm.

—-
Originally written on June 25, 2009:

Things I’ve done today: gotten a shot of novocaine in my butt, had a mri, eaten a canister of pringles.

I went to the doctor this morning. You know, to see the 1985 National Spelling Bee Champion. He’s a really cool dude and I like him a lot (well, until he tells me they need to amputate), so I’m glad my google searching led me to him. He has this like, assistant person? I thought he was a nurse, but now I think he might be a medical student or an intern or something because the doctor would ask him things like “So what do you think we should do next?”, quizzing him and stuff. Anyway, he (assistant person) was really friendly with me, flirty-ish friendly, which was nice (though sort of uncomfortable because I was so not attracted to him) because it made me not so nervous about the fact that my butt muscles might be completely detached from the bone, but also weird because then they had to give me a shot of novocaine in the butt (to numb me up to see if the reason I can’t move my leg is because I’m in too much pain, which would be rectified by the novocaine) and he had to like, prep my butt with iodine. So he like, moves my underwear to my crack, tucking it in, (ughhh) and then starts like, cleaning my butt cheek with iodine. As Stacie said, “Only you, Anna, only you.” So then they gave me about 5 giant shots and HOLY COW I had no idea shots in your butt hurt so much!! Anyway, I still couldn’t move my leg in the way they wanted me to, which is a bad sign. Then I had a MRI. Longest 20 minutes of my life. It’s like, here, lie in this tube and we’re going to have a bunch of loud magnets that sound like a bad techno remix bang around your body. I mean, that’s annoying in itself, but whatever. I’ve had an MRI before, but that was when I was a poor college student and let people look at my brain and shit for money and free food. This time was awful because I had to lie perfectly still on my broken butt muscles while they’re twitching and aching and throbbing. Hot, I know.

Anyway, I go back to El Doctor tomorrow afternoon and they’ll tell me how bad it is. He says it’s rare that I’ll need surgery, but I’m already thinking the worst. I was supposed to go back on Tuesday and they just called me to tell me to come in tomorrow instead, so I’m automatically assuming it’s because my butt is being held together by Pringles fat and iodine stained granny panties alone and they need to get me on an operating table STAT. Oh, and I start physical therapy tomorrow.

Long story short: I’m an idiot.

—-
Originally written on June 30, 2009:

Alright, so, where did I leave off? With the creepy assistant at the doctor’s office iodine-ing my butt in order to prep me for a shot of novocaine to the rump to numb everything up to see if I had any ability to move my leg after the pain subsided? And I still couldn’t do it? Yeah, that sounds about right. So, I went back to the doctor the following day to have him let me know the results of my MRI. It was just as he suspected. I’ve managed to tear my three hamstrings tendons (the semitendinosus, the semimembranosus and the biceps femoris) off of my pelvic bone where they come together and are anchored right under my butt.

So, basically, I don’t have any working muscle on the back of my left leg. I went to an orthopaedic surgeon yesterday and he confirmed what the 1985 National Spelling Bee Champion saw on the MRI: a big mass of fluid and detached muscle (ughhh), which obviously isn’t just going to reconnect itself. I could let it scar over and then have physical therapy to regain some range of motion or I could have surgery to reconnect the tendons to my pelvis, which is what I’m opting for. I’m not entirely sure how this happens, something with roughening up the bone (UGHHH) and sutures and dissolvable screws. And a 3-4 inch scar from my butt down. And then 4-6 weeks of crutching around and then a buttload (get it?! BUTTload?!) of physical therapy. All in all, incredibly sexy. This should all be going down a week from today if they can secure an operating room. I don’t think it’s really set in that I’m going to be heavily drugged and cut into and am having a fairly major operation of a “pretty rare” injury. I just want it to be fixed. Seriously, I just want to be able to move normally and not have to put my underwear on like an old person and dance to bad remixes at over-crowded bars and be able to dodge speeding cabs while crossing the street. Anyway, send me some good thoughts (and puppies and candy) because I’m going to be really loopy and out of it and probably crying because of both the general anesthesia (it makes me emo) and the fact that I quite literally have a pain in the ass.

magnum, P.I.

Perhaps some of you have seen that commercial where Rachel Bilson is stuck in a traffic jam on a hot summer day and proceeds to run over cars in order to get to a big refrigerated truck that’s filled with ice cream. The extremely attractive truck driver (what?) opens up the truck to give her an ice cream and after that all is well in the world. The ice cream is on a stick, covered in not one but TWO chocolate shells,with a layer of caramel hanging out between the two layers. As if that weren’t tantalizing enough, but the name of this ice cream? Magnum. A quick, cursory Google search shows that I’m not the only person with a blog that finds this amusing. But the other blogs fail to mention the tagline: For pleasure seekers. Oh really? They also fail to mention that they come wrapped in gold shiny packaging. I mean, come on!

Yesterday evening Bryce and I were at the grocery store to buy chicken, corn and fixin’s for strawberry shortcake (ultimate summertime meal) when we passed the Magnum ice cream display in the freezer section. I wanted them and Bryce told me no. Why I listened to him, I’m not sure but it doesn’t really matter anyway since Katie came home today with a box. God smiled down upon me. The clouds parted, a ray of light appeared and Jesus himself guided the ice cream into my mouth. And guys? It’s divine. Seriously. There’s a reason it only comes three to a box. They are utterly decadent.

The two layers of chocolate are key. They don’t skimp on the caramel, and the ice cream also holds its own. Katie and I both agreed that it’s in the running for the packaged ice cream bar ever. Hold me.

gifts from our old pal Summer

Master Splinter

I graduated from graduate school last weekend and I will now insist that you call me Master Anna. I am now the most educated cousin on both sides of my family. Holler. Or something. I also have a higher degree than Bryce (for the time being, anyway) which is fun to remind him of.

The morning began with a 9am school wide convocation ceremony on the main quad. Undergraduates + all graduate students, including Master’s degrees, PhDs, doctors and lawyers. Basically, it was big. And grand. The morning was chilly (50s) and foggy/drizzly, and while it was definitely less than ideal for an outdoor ceremony, it sort of fit the surroundings. The University of Chicago is old and gothic and beautiful… you pretty much feel like you’re at Hogwarts. The big convocation ceremony included lots of bag pipes and that also added to the British Isles feel the weather and surrounding architecture were providing.

After the big all school ceremony was my school’s ceremony where we were hooded with our super fancy Master’s hoods and given our diplomas. It was held in a little theater-type room. I found it to be a super photogenic space, but that was sort of useless since my camera was in my brother’s hands, not mine. Anyway, it was in this ceremony that I officially became a Master.

Did you know that it’s been statistically proven that it’s impossible to look remotely sexy in a graduation gown and matching mortarboard? It’s true. Anyway, the photo above shows me getting my diploma from the Dean. I’m legit.

Here I am afterward checking to make sure that it’s for real.

After the ceremony there was a Private Event (fancy) hosted by my school. Guys, the food was delicious. My outrageous tuition at least paid for some awesome wraps and even better desserts.

Me and my lovely family.

Me and the lovely Bryce. You know, the one who’s not a Master

I like this photo more. It’s not fuzzy, I’m wearing my cute dress and not something out of Judge Judy’s wardrobe, and I’m holding a goofy giant umbrella because my brother told me to.

—
It was a great day, and I actually did feel myself becoming more emotional than I thought I’d be. I’m proud of myself for both completing and putting myself through my graduate program, for graduating with honors (sounds baller, right?) and meeting a lot of new people, a handful of which I now consider close friends of mine. It seems so weird that it’s over. It seems like only a few weeks ago I was quitting my last job and buying pencils and batteries for my graphing calculator to take to the month long MATH CAMP prior to our orientation. When I started school, I had just recently met Bryce, just had surgery to repair my completely destroyed hamstring tendons (no more high kicks) and had no idea what to expect when it came to the next two years facing me. Time really flies, doesn’t it?