RBI is in the Air!

On January 2, 2010, my ballroom dance skillz got me an invitation to a wedding with a boy I sort of knew and felt more than awkward around. Three days later, in the 34-degree weather that was Austin, TX, he sat me down outside to talk over coffee. He shivered. I squirmed. He stalled. I squirmed. He said he wanted to date me. I squirmed. And while I had little reason to believe we’d ever make it past uncomfortable and incompatible, he had used the word “wife” and I wanted to be one of those, so I said okay.

We had our first official date set for Saturday, but only made it to Thursday before we found ourselves at the Alamo Drafthouse watching the Longhorns play in the Rosebowl. Our pre-date date was awesome. We had tons to talk about, he made fun of/was slightly jealous of my oversized (and way trendy) clothing accessories, and he laughed at my jokes so heartily that I almost believed him. This kid was pretty cool. Toward the end of the night the conversation turned a little more serious and he filled me in on some quiet plans of his. According to him, he was going to quit his job by August and start running a sports ministry. He didn’t know how it would happen, but believed God would make a way. I tilted my head, smiled, and gazed at him with a look of admiration. And behind that look of admiration, I rolled my eyes and thought, “Mmm, a compulsive dreamer. That’s too bad. He sure was pretty.”

So Matt and I kept dating while I waited for him to come home one day and tell me he had thrown his briefcase in the trash and was ready to take on the world. Then I could sadly and quietly slip back into the fish pond where there might be potential mates with more jobs and less pipe dreams. But the compulsion never came, and in its place was the daily display of a pretty impressive work ethic. He sought counsel from professionals all over Texas and beyond, he researched, he planned, and he started working with and learning from a team of people with similar goals in an established inner-city sports program. I watched Matt build his portfolio by day and baseball team by night... all while burning up the roads between Austin and Dallas on weekends.

As the year unfolded, a proposal was accepted by the Major League Baseball Groundskeepers Association and they adopted the field where Matt and some friends coached a summer ball team. For The City Network came alongside his cause, offering experience and tons of support, and MLB gave approval for the Austin chapter of Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities, or RBI. Matt went part-time at his company in October, resigned in December, and officially became full-time director of RBI Austin. I could hardly believe what I was seeing.

So on January 11, 2011, we all gathered in Austin to celebrate the opening of Reagan High School’s new baseball field and official launch of RBI Austin. Only one year and four days after our first date. Once the event ended and Matt was done with the cameras, we finally got a hold of each other. He told me how glad he was to see me, and I tilted my head, smiled, and gazed at him with a look of admiration. And behind that look of admiration, I rolled my eyes and thought to myself, “Mmm, I would have been so stupid to miss out on this year.” So here’s to building in the new year what was started in the last!

Click below for news coverage of the event!

http://forthecity.org/blog/reagan_hs_rbi_austin_in_the_news/

Did you know they use lasers to level out baseball fields? Neither did I. Early on in the renovation.

Only 6 months later. Look at all that green grass! Matt's new 5 o'clock happy hour.

You know your date is about to go downhill when your boyfriend hands you a hula hoe. Werk! Prepping for opening ceremony.

Here we go! Matty in the foreground.

Huston Street. Former Longhorn and current Colorado Rockies pitcher.

If you look closely, you can see parts of Coach Price under there.

Uh, hey guys. I'm gonna need him back.. ... ..whole.

Blazers love.

Praying I have girls.

So proud :)

Living in Austin (or not) and interested in becoming involved? Visit RBIAustin.org

Such a drama queen. Such a PA student.

I’m still here! Didn’t know if that would be the case last weekend, but I am! Alive and well.

People are always asking me how school is going… well, as one of our classmates put it, “They sure aren’t handin’ these things out.” They are workin’ us, y’all! Sometimes I’ll even have med students ask me how we do it… 8-5 classes most days (we often get out early and always on Friday), one or two weeks for “summer break,” a 5am phlebotomy rotation thrown in during summer midterms. That wouldn’t be such a bad schedule if most of our work didn’t happen outside of those hours. Yep, there go the weekends! Knowing it’s only 31 months gives us a bit of a boost (and skipping residency doesn’t hurt either. Bless those red-eyed MDs).

It’s a grind, for sure, but I’m enjoying it (mostly). There’s the occasional morning I want to throw up in the shower due to a poorly scheduled caffeine/sleep regimen, or the night I warn the boyfriend not to call for fear he’ll get an undeserved verbal lashing, but I think that happens outside of PA school, too (that's healthy, right?). Really, the worst is dealing with those feelings of, “I JUST don’t want to study anymore.” It’s an endurance run, but it’s good. And don’t get me wrong, I like my bed and vacation as much as the next guy, but too much time without a challenge and I get a little itchy. This program should keep me set for a while and I’m thankful for the forward motion.

Plus, when else am I going to be surrounded by 35 young, smart, scientifically-minded, hard-working people in such a new and engaging environment? I’ve been in the working world and it’s just not the same kind of social you get in school. The studying can be grueling, but the schooling is fast-paced and kind of fun; at least we’re never stagnant. Aaaand everyone knows the best jokes are made during the most miserable weeks. I’ll take it and enjoy it for the season that it is.

So yes, we did just have 6 exams in 12 days. Yes, I might have sat on the edge of my bathtub Sunday night with my feet in hot water and my head in my hands, reading through the department policies in case I really did fail pharmacology. Yes, I’m a PA student and I can be slightly dramatic, but I also know how to do school and I’m telling you- this ain’t no gym class.

So that’s all of the boring stuff about PA school along with all the lame things I say while trying to convince myself I don’t want to be somewhere else on Saturday. Now feel free to enjoy some equally boring photos (minus Shannon).

Many a Weekend

Mixing it up and getting Craazayy

With my super-supportive "Big Sis," secretly hoping they let me keep my new coat after the results of my lab practical roll in

New York, New York

I don't know how many times I've been to New York, but as far as my retrievable memories take me I haven't been able to step out of the airport without good old Franky Boy's song in my head.

...I want to be a part of it, New York New York...

But neither Frank nor seeing the statue... again... is enough to lure me back to the great state over a trip to, oh say, the beach. Not the fashion scene. Not the black and white cake cookies from Seinfeld or the thrill of following someone in Chinatown to an unmarked van for that Gucci bag with shiny, lead-coated zippers. Nope. But for the right occasion...

Week 2 of the countdown: Grandma turns 94.

I'm telling you guys, this lady is incredible. She, her sister, and her brother are all over 90 and as healthy as can be. In fact, Grandma is healthier than I am if you want to count prescription bottles. Her sister still DRIVES. haha. But it's great to know I have her genes, and it's also great to sit at the kitchen table with them- "Grandma's drinking a beer. Look how old she is. I'm going to drink a beer, too." In fact, with the help of their counsel and wisdom, I've reaffirmed the theory that my coffee and cookie diet is a sure-shot to longevity as long as I stay active and also eat muffins. Or something like that.

Game Time

As you may know, my grad-school interviews are well passed done and I have been given the riiidiculous opportunity to attend classes at UT Southwestern's medical center. I'll be kickin' off the summer in a formaldehyde-soaked basement full of bodies, and when I'm not with those, I'll have the privilege of doing things to real, live patients that I hate having done to me. So while I not-so-anxiously await the grind, I'm soaking up some of the most relaxing and unscheduled days... ... ..probably ever. One month. It's Game Time.

Weekend 1 of the countdown: Chi town.

Navy Pier

Best Host Ever

The Obligatory Bean Picture

All Over the City

Too Cold

Managing the Self-Timer
(Okay, Wheaton isn't technically in Chicago, but who would want to go to Chicago and not see Wheaton? Or maybe I have that backwards..)

Oopsies

When I accepted my job at the nursing home this year and took some time to consider my hopes and expectations for it, I realized there was the possibility of an occurrence that fell equally into both categories. I fully expected, and secretly hoped, to be punched by a senior citizen. Well, I would like to tell you all that my heart’s desire was fulfilled and I was recently punched by an old man.

Now, if you want to meet up for a happy hour I’ll be more than glad to share the details with you. But what I will tell you is that, while getting punched was understandable, I never expected to be on the flip-side of the picture. NO I didn’t punch a senior citizen, but according to witnesses I, too, am now in the category of people who hit medical workers.

Today, when I woke up from surgery, I learned that I had smacked my nurse. (The phrase “a few times” may or may not have been used.) Thankfully she took it in good humor and even told my mom that I was sweet. Another thing she told us: They had administered an unusually large dose of narcotics during my general anesthesia because I kept waking up.

Kept “waking up” or kept “abusing the hospital staff”?

Thank you to Northwest Surgery for your gracious service, the health care field for always providing a story and keepin' it classy, and especially to Mom for not leaving me alone in the post-op room with said nurse.

Please, summer, come faster.

I have to tell you what I learned about polar bears.

On the North Slope, there are cages on the exterior of the doors. Why??? Because otherwise, polar bears will WAIT ON THE ROOF and eat you when you come out. True story. Also true: Polar bears are the scariest animal second to roaches.

Here's a cuter picture of who was outside my door the other morning.