Monday Pants

I'm tired and stressed and cranky. And it's Monday.

And then these walked through the door:

Courtesy of the medical student on our hospital team. I should specify that even though they might look like scrubs, they're actually a horrific geranium red/pink denim fabric, and he paired them with a button-up shirt and a bright red tie. He calls them "My Monday Pants." He wears them without shame or hesitation.

I officially stand in awe of this phenomenon.

Gee, the traffic is...terrific.

One morning, Cletus woke up, looked over at his cousin/wife, belched mightily, then said, "I reckon people ain't gon know we's rednecks less'n we advertise it better." Several weeks later, after extensive debate over the proper spelling of Redneck, and heated discussion about whether the additional flag on the truck cab's antenna would be tacky excess or stylistic genius, they settled on a design that was both historically referential and contemporarily distasteful. And behold, as I was on my way to Best Buy to pick up a new power cord for ye olde laptop this evening, I got stuck behind Cletus Redneck's truck as it made its way inexorably to Wal-Mart.

Seriously.

Atlantic to Pacific

Starting this upcoming Monday, I'm slated for 2 straight months of intense, sleep-deprived, heartbreaking, boundary-stretching inpatient medicine and pediatric rotations, with 80-hour workweeks and 30-hour call shifts and a lot of wondering why I'm doing this. In the calm before the storm, I had some flexible time off last week and went up to Minnesota then out to San Diego for vacations with friends. In Minnesota, I learned that the word "belated" makes up for absolutely any amount of elapsed time, and also that cake is still really tasty no matter what belated occasion you pretend it's for.

I learned that breaking 100 in a bowling game can fill a person with infinite pride.

I also learned that Justin, who was recently fitted for a tuxedo for his upcoming wedding, has similar measurements to most Miss America contestants. It was hard to tell whether he was proud of this fact or not. (For the record, he measures 36-27-34, but he declines to participate in the swimsuit portion of the competition for some reason.)

- - - - - - - - - -

In San Diego, I learned that I make a really pathetic flamingo

and that Dar makes a really pathetic tortoise

but that we would both fit inside the mouth of the (extinct) megalodon shark

or inside the nest of a weaver bird. ...if the weaver bird were 100 times bigger than its actual size.

I learned that this Northern White Rhino is one of only 7 left in the world. There are 2 males and 5 females (4 of whom are too old to breed). It's pretty sobering to look at an animal and realize that it will probably be extinct before our children's generation is old enough to realize it had ever existed at all.

Speaking of breeding, as we walked past the African Gerunuk enclosure, one of them was just standing at the back of the field, ho-hum, casually grazing while giving birth. Holy shmoley, I've never seen anyone or anything act that nonchalant during childbirth! This antelope is my new Icon of Pain Tolerance. (In the picture, you can see its newborn poking its head up out of the grass near the mother's front legs.)

On a side note, anytime I think of animals giving birth, I have a flashback of the night that my sister's friend's chihuahua decided that my face was the best place to have puppies while I was asleep. There's nothing like waking up to find your face inches from amniotic membranes. It ruins the whole "miracle of life" thing.

On an unrelated note, koalas are relentlessly cute:

And SeaWorld is amazing, despite being relentlessly commercialized.

And vacation is a very good thing.

CHOMP!!!!

And then, in an unprecendented example of rock climbing gone horribly wrong, the cliff face decided to fight back: