In like Flynn

I got the call on Saturday morning at approximately 10:56am. I'm in. Class of 2015. Holy crap! I'm going to be a veterinarian!

The first person to find out? The checkout woman at Target who kept telling me to "let it all out" because I deserved it. (I had to tell her because I'm pretty sure she thought I was having a heart attack.)

The most fun phone call to make? To one of my oldest friends Rindee. She squealed much like zlionsfan said I squealed when I was notified of my interview. I couldn't understand a word of what she was saying, but boy was she excited for me.

The funniest reaction? When I called my cousin on her moving day. I knew she'd be super busy. She answered, "Did someone die? Someone had better have died." When I said no and told her the reason for calling, she said, "This is much better than if someone had died!" I had to laugh at that. Indeed it was.

The most surprising phone call? To my friend Craig who shows almost no emotion on a daily basis. The force and inflection of his "YES!" was awesome to hear.

What I enjoyed most? Well, telling everyone. But second to that? All the love on Facebook. I think that's why Facebook was invented. To spread good news. Because man do I feel loved right now.

The most touching moment? When my dad told me that he had just gotten to the point where he can say that I'm going to be a veterinarian without getting choked up. I had no idea he felt that strongly about what I was doing.

New thing I've learned? Champagne that costs more than $10 is so SMOOTH! Yumm-o.

The most overwhelming moment? When I realized that in less than 5 months I will have to quit my job, move and start almost a whole new life. Woah. Luckily I have friends who live in my future city. (Friends who should start increasing their food budget slightly because, um, they're going to be feeding me at least once a week or so :-)

Holy crap.

I'm going to be a veterinarian.

Role Reversal

The boy and I attended our second of three weddings this year. We were both just attendees, and since I got to pick my outfit, I went with this dress. The wedding was in my hometown, which is quite a bit farther south than Indy, so even though it was overcast and cloudy here, the weather turned into a balmy 75 degrees that day, so the dress was perfect.

Wow did I love this dress. It's made of a jersey material and it's empire waisted, so it was as comfortable as a t-shirt. I paired it with some silver heels, a silver wrap and purse, and I was good to go. Loved loved loved this dress.

As I was admiring myself in the mirror getting ready to leave for the wedding, I heard an "Oh no!" exclamation from my bedroom. I went back in to find the boy standing in the middle of the room with panic in his eyes. Apparently his pants (the only dress pants he had brought with him) would not button.

Let me give you some background info on the boy and I. While I have a love/hate relationship with food and it's resulting effect on my body, the boy has no such issues. Dare I say, the boy can eat what he wants and never gain weight. In fact, during several discussions about how much I hate how I look, the boy has had the audacity to say, "Why don't you just lose the weight?" like it's that easy. Which it is. For him. Notsomuch for me.

And whereas I have to work for weeks to be able to run 5 miles, the boy can get up off the couch and run 5 miles without so much as a warm-up.

At least... he could.

Ever since the big 3-0 hit for him (the milestone that we're not allowed to talk about) the boy has been struggling in that silent man way that boys tend to struggle. Suddenly he can't just up and run five miles. And suddenly he can't complete a bike ride when Emily can.* And SUDDENLY, it appears that perhaps the metabolism has slowed some?

I still can't talk about the big 3-0 to the boy, but as an older male mutual friend of ours said, "It only gets worse, I'm afraid."

So the pants. They would not button. And I would be lying if I said that I didn't smirk. But we figured out some workarounds that I have up my sleeve (this is not my first rodeo) and the boy was set.

For the entire car ride to the wedding, I had to remind myself that this was his first experience with clothes that used to fit, and then mysteriously shrunk at the dry cleaners. I had to endure comments like, "I'm not eating dinner tonight. I just won't eat dinner. Or breakfast. Or lunch tomorrow," and "I need to start working out. Like tonight. When we get home I'm going for a run."

I showed admirable restraint, believe it or not.

I explained that I knew (intimately) the panic that he was feeling, but that an over-reaction would not solve this issue. No use in burning himself out by throwing himself into workouts while starving himself. That's just a recipe for disaster. Better to eat sensibly at dinner that night and then make a workout schedule for the upcoming week(s.)

He still ate two pieces of friend chicken. And mashed potatoes and gravy. Apparently the panic passes quickly for males. But boy was he uncomfortable after dinner.

After the bulk of the reception and our required one slow dance, the boy urgently told me that we had to leave. We had to leave the reception right now! Why? Because someone had to use the restroom to go #2 and apparently this is not done in public by decent menfolk.

So the whole way home was an URGENT URGENT drive. Until we got home. And the boy was able to take off his pants. Then? The urge wasn't quite so pressing. In fact, he was just fine.

Amateur.

*Granted, Emily TRAINED FOR THE BIKE RIDE ALL SUMMER and the boy did NOT, but that didn't seem to matter. Ahem.

Waiting

Once upon a time, this happened. And then, within hours of posting the blog, it was resolved.

And then this happened. And again, shortly after posting the blog, it was resolved.

Oh wait... did I not post about that resolution? Hmmm.

I was wait-listed. As in, placed on a list of alternates. To wait. To see if a spot opened up for me.

Which is all fine and dandy. I mean, at least there's no more clinging-to-the-edge-of-my-sanity waiting going on. The letter was sort of a relief. At least I had some news. I could now move on with my life. Which I have. Moved on, that is. Because, see, it sort of feels like this:

Scene: A smoky club with a throbbing techno beat.*

Emily looks across the room to spot a hot boy. She approaches him to engage in witty banter that will make him realize just how intelligent and irresistible she really is. He does indeed seem to notice her finer attributes, so she asks him out to dinner, the subtext of which is that if all goes well they will spend the rest of their lives together in bliss.

He hesitates, then says, "You know, I would love to go out with you. I really and truly would. But there's this hot cheerleader type woman - you know the type... blond, 5'7", 110 lbs, your basic nightmare - that I've also been talking to, and I would like to ask her out first... but if she says no, I'm all yours."

That's how this situation feels. And it's frustrating because if the scene above occurred in real life, I would totally tell that guy where to shove it, and walk away. This girl, she doesn't play second fiddle to anyone.

But when I explained this to z, he responded with, "Yes, but this isn't like it's just any guy. This is like you're talking to Joshua Jackson."

Ah yes, Josh. Can I call you Josh? You've been my longtime love. I know you're rocking Fringe right now, but you will always be the Pacey Witter of my heart.

But see, here's what I think. I think I would still walk away. Even from Joshua Jackson. Because (and ladies, take note here) you just can't set that sort of precedent in any relationship you're in. I know a lot of people (women) do things they normally wouldn't do in the beginning of a relationship to "reel him in" and then think that they're going to get the relationship the way they want it later. I'm here to tell you that is NOT the way to go. I mean, for things like putting his dirty laundry on the floor? Sure. Things like asking another woman out first? Notsomuch. Because once that precedent is set, it's really REALLY hard to undo. I mean, what, he's going to spend the rest of his life making you forget that you were his second choice? No.

(It's all talk, Josh. Call me. Seriously. I'll be your second fiddle. Or third. Or doormat. Whatevs.)

For all of that digressing, it doesn't help me in my current situation. One that I literally can not (or won't?) walk away from. One in which I have no control, no pride, and no idea what the future holds.

All of that sounds like a perfect recipe for a situation Emily would be great at handling, no? At least I'm growing as a person?

(Personally, I think this is why fate made me meet and date the boy. Because woo wee, if there's ever been an exercise in not getting what I want when I want it, it's been dating this boy. So maybe it's all been preparation for applying to vet school, I just didn't know it.)

So good thoughts, keep your fingers crossed and all of that. I don't consider this fight over until the end of April. May 1st I'll start thinking about updating my application and sending out to more schools next year.

*Note: I'm not sure WHY I always picture a club scene like this. It's not like I've ever BEEN to a club like this, nor that I would ever want to. Maybe it's because I picture myself looking all hot in this imaginary scenario. But then, that could just as well be at a wedding... or at Subway. I mean, sometimes it's difficult to contain my inherent hotness on any given day. So really, this could take place anywhere. Keep that in mind.

Powers of Observation

I went to lunch today, parked at a parking meter for all of 15 minutes, and someone hit my car. And then they drove off. Again.

The way that this information came to be grasped by yours truly, however, is a story in and of itself.

So I went to lunch, as mentioned, to one of my favorite restaurants that I generally tend to avoid like the plague during lunchtime because of the tiny TINY parking lot. (the lot, it is tiny.) And after I got my lunch and went back to my office to eat it, I noticed that my driver's side door made a sound when I opened it to get in. However, seeing as how I was parked on a semi busy and very crowded road, I thought "What NOW?!" fully expecting that my car needed oil somewhere, and promised myself that I would check it out in the safety of my garage at work that was merely a mile away.

In the course of driving that mile, I, of course, completely forgot about the noise. Luckily, when I got out of my car the door made the same obnoxious noise. So I looked at what was going on, and I saw this. And by "this" I mean the fact that the door was no longer aligned with the front quarter panel of my car. Ugh. I mean, U-G-H. The conclusion that I leapt to was that someone had hit my car whilst it slept on the street outside of my house. After all, that's what had happened before. Why would this be any different? Also, the damage had only knocked the door askew from the front quarter panel, so it's not like the car was traveling with any velocity when it hit my car. Of COURSE it happened outside of my house last night. Especially when one's house is two doors down from a neighbor who can't drive a car to save his life. Not that I'm insinuating anything, neighbor who constantly has major body work done to his POS car that keeps getting banged up in totally noticeable ways that are sometimes eerily similar to the damage one would see on a car that had hit the rear driver's side quarter panel of a neighbor's car. A blue Honda CR-V perhaps? I'm not insinuating anything at all.*

Anyway, where was I? Oh yes. My car and the door. So I got all upset and marched into work where I proceeded to tell my boss (using many colorful expletives and angry words) about how someone hit my car. After listening to my rant, my boss's first question was why I didn't notice the noise my door made this morning when I drove to work. I dismissed this as me being unobservant. But then I started to wonder. The noise is loud. I mean, I noticed it right away. There is no way, no matter how much I hate mornings, that I wouldn't have noticed this problem when I drove to work. None. So what happened?

The next logical conclusion** that I jumped to was that the ding had happened in the garage while I was parked there. The landlord was around doing yardwork. I park next to the mower. It seemed reasonable to me that he had accidentally clipped my car when pulling out the mower. So I went to ask him if this was, in fact, what had happened. (He's a great guy, btw. I have no other explanation why he was so patient with me while I was pretty much telling him that he had dented my car.) After telling me that he had not been in the garage all day, he wanted to see what had happened to my car. So we went out to the garage together. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the first time that I noticed this:

I wish I were kidding.

There is no bending of the truth there, kids. None. The sideswipe runs the LENGTH OF MY CAR and I didn't see it. All I noticed was that my door made a noise when I opened it.

My powers of observation, they are fearsome.

After noticing the sideswipe, it took very little brain power to figure out the rest of what had happened. And after waiting over two hours for a policeman to come so that I could file a report (it was not a good day to be a non-emergency in Indianapolis) I found out that A) there were no security cameras that caught the action and B) there's pretty much nothing I can do but, um, accept what happened.*** I got home around 5:45pm. A little later than usual, but nothing that would generally matter. Except...

The main thing on my mind was the impending rain we were expecting in Indy. See, I have a new toy that I wanted to play with**** and all I wanted to do was get my workout clothes on, get the dog, and get outside for our walk. Single-minded with this purpose, I entered the house, let the dog out of her crate, and went to my bedroom to change. Suddenly, a tiny but persistent thought jumped out at me.

The cat wasn't in the bathroom begging for water.

I brushed it aside. Meh. So what if she always drinks out of the sink? So what if she CONSTANTLY hounds me when I'm in the bathroom to turn on the water? She's probably just not thirsty right now. I have got THINGS TO DO! The cat is probably asleep.

As I exited the bathroom and headed to my bedroom, I spared a glance at the cat's food dish.

The cat wasn't sitting next to her food dish, begging for food.

Now THIS was major. The cat has been on a diet for the last three years or so and, as she would have you believe, has been hungry for every single day of the last three years.

I hesitated, torn. Still, I had THINGS TO DO, so I continued changing and put on my tennis shoes. As I headed back into the living room to leave, I casually opened a few closets, and then casually checked the place where the cat usually sleeps. Nothing. A total of five minutes had elapsed from the time I got home and every minute brought the rain closer. Since my walk with the dog takes an hour, I had to get out the door. The cat was probably, um.... somewhere. I would find her when I got home.

As I was putting on my windbreaker to head outside and could think of NO OTHER OPTIONS for where the cat could be, responsibility won out. I sighed, opened the door to the backyard, and called my cat's name. Immediately I heard an urgent "meow" in return. I called her name again, trying to locate the source of the meow, and heard three more urgent cries, each louder than the last. Then Laney herself came into view, covered in dried grass. I have no idea if she ran out the door when I left for work in the morning or ran out the door five minutes prior when I got home. At that point, I figured I would take a good look at her later, but I had to GET OUT THE DOOR!

I picked her up (she seemed grateful) and brought her back inside. I then fed her and FINALLY got on my way.

So, just to recap. Something majorly terrible happened to my car... the most expensive thing that I own... and I didn't notice it. At all. In fact, if my door hadn't been knocked out of line, there's a good chance that I would STILL have no idea that anything was wrong with my car. I would notice it three days (or weeks) from now, and be all angry that someone had hit me. However, five minutes home with something else being the entire, intense focus of my brain, and I notice that my cat is MIA. My FREE cat that I adopted for FREE when she was a kitten. The cat with no value. The cat who loves me, but who everyone else agrees is pretty much Satan incarnate.

Sigh. I would feel like my values are screwed up except that... Well, it's 1:23am and I'm blogging because I can't sleep. There are four souls in my house tonight. Two asleep, and the other two.. Well...
Sure she's not on my lap, but she's totally purring.

*Note: I'M TOTALLY INSINUATING THAT YOU HIT MY CAR, YOU LOSER! NEXT TIME, LEAVE A DAMN NOTE!

**It wasn't logical in the slightest. FYI.

***This would be one of the places where I would use a more colorful euphemism... but this is a family blog and one never really DOES know who's reading it. Ahem.

****It's the subject of another blog coming soon. Promise.