Tuesday, September 30, 2008
During one of our much-needed breaks from the world's longest staff meeting, I checked my cell phone, and I had a voicemail, which turned out to be from the manager of the venue that I called way too late yesterday. The message just said to call her back, and I was trying very, very hard to avoid getting my hopes up so that I wouldn't end up sobbing at work.
Anyway, long story short, I called her back, and....
I GOT THE VENUE!!!! Amazingly, miraculously, nobody else had tried to book it for that day, so it was mine!! I didn't screw up Mr. D's party after all! When the manager told me that the venue was mine, I actually asked "Are you serious??" and then proceeded to tell her about how I cried for half an hour yesterday. I tend to over-share. Then, when I called and ecstatically told Mr. D my great news, he told me that he just got his last set of board scores back, and he passed with flying colors, so he will be a real live doctor this coming spring!
As a side note, in my panic and tears yesterday, I did a massive internet search for other suitable venues in our area, found two I hadn't heard of before that looked acceptable (although not quite as good), and emailed them about the date (for various reasons, there is only one date that will work for us to have the party). Funnily enough, both of them got back to me today and said that the date is available, so it turns out I wouldn't have been totally venue-less anyway. (Although one, which was a former industrial building and is now a historic landmark that's been turned into an "interpretive space" and looks really awesome from the outside, told me in their email that, "Due to the industrial nature of the building, these facilities will be maintained to match their original usage (surfaces will contain dust, dirt, cobwebs, dead bugs, etc.)" Um, they weren't a manufacturer of insecticides, so I'm unclear as to why dead bugs are a necessary part of the ambiance... sounds like someone's trying to get out of having to pay for a janitor. So, that one was clearly out of the running.)
In summation, I'm a very happy (albeit totally over-dramatic) girl.
Monday, September 29, 2008
For the past six months at least, I've been planning, dreaming, scheming, and organizing for Mr. Darling's med school graduation party (which isn't until next year, but hey, I want it to be perfect, and you can't rush perfection!) After months of looking for the perfect venue, I finally found it, and Mr. D totally approved. They don't start taking reservations for the space until September 29 (today), so I had it all planned out - I was going to call at 12:00:01 a.m. this morning and book the perfect hall. Except, of course, that I forgot. Despite the fact that I've emailed the manager five times to confirm the day. Despite the fact that my calendar said "Book (name of venue)!!!" highlighted in purple. I completely forgot. And the venue books fast. And I had taken the day off to spend time with Mr. D who also miraculously had a day off, so I never opened my calendar.
And suddenly at 4:00pm, as I was straightening the living room, I came across a brochure for the venue, and I ran upstairs crying to Mr. D that I'd forgotten and his party was ruined and I was the worst wife ever. I called the manager and left a message, just in case, then I curled up in a ball and sobbed. Really hard. For like half an hour.
Ok, so reality stars (even the fake ones) typically overreact to things, so I know that this sounds like me just being a drama queen, but it's really, really important to me that his party be perfect! I'm so proud of him, and I want to throw him the world's best medical school graduation party!
Anywho, as I was sobbing and apologizing profusely to Mr. D, he massaged my shoulders and told me that he wasn't at all mad or disappointed and that we'd find another venue. Then he cooked me dinner, went to Blockbuster to rent me some Desperate Housewives, and got me ice cream. Um, yeah, am I lucky or what? I screw up booking a venue for his party, and somehow I get ice cream out of the deal.
Still, I'm utterly distraught and 99% sure that I'm totally venue-less for the party. Ugh ugh ugh. If you could all cross your fingers, say a prayer, and participate in any other type of cosmic intervention on my behalf, it would be much appreciated. 'Cause this venue is totally perfect, and in all likelihood, totally booked.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
A lot of Residency Programs invite applicants out to dinner either the night before or the night of their interviews. It allows the applicant to talk with the residents and attending physicians in a more informal environment, and it allows the doctors to make sure that the applicant is not a complete social reject. (If you spill an entire bowl of soup on your interviewer, talk with your mouth full, and publicly berate the waiter, you're probably out of the running for that residency program.) I knew all of this. What I DIDN'T know is that very often, the applicant's spouse is invited to the dinner, too.
Yikes! My husband wants me to come to all of the dinners to which I'm invited, which makes me feel good because he obviously thinks I'm an asset rather than socially awkward with the potential to embarrass him, but it also means that now I feel like my appearance and behavior could affect his chances at these programs.
Don't get me wrong - I'm reasonably attractive, I behave appropriately in public, and I tend to dress and groom myself pretty well, so it's not like I'm going to be a huge liability. But, how should I put this? I'm a klutz. I trip more often than your normal twenty-something. I drop food on myself a bit more than I care to admit. Those Starbucks coffee cups with the teeny, tiny, spill-proof hole in the lid? I spill on myself through them when I drink Starbucks coffee. So, now I'm nervous. I won't berate the waiter or talk with my mouth full, but I can't completely rule out spilling soup on someone. I guess the key is to not order soup...
Wish me luck, cross your fingers, and pass along any tips you may have on how to eat without wearing any of your dinner!
PS - Case in point: as soon as I published this post, I spilled Mt. Dew all down my front and onto my lap. Oh, I should add - it was Mt. Dew in a CAN. You know, with the little teeny hole that my mouth can and should completely cover? I'm talented.