Some friends of mine got married a month or so ago. Lindsay (the bride) is a romantic and planned the wedding to have a Jane Austen theme. All of the guests were seated at places named after Jane Austen locations: Bath, Mansfield Park, Lyme (which was actually where we were seated), Northanger Abbey, and of course, Pemberley, the table where the bridal party sat. There were horse-drawn carriage rides and silhouette portraits and of course, dancing (although not English line dancing to my disappointment). The gentlemen from my church in attendance were, as I should have expected, dolts and lacking any sort of a romantic sentiment:

Me, teasingly: How long do you presume to reside in Lyme, Mr. B? Are you here for the season? Will I have the opportunity to make the acquaintance of your sisters?

Mr B: What are you talking about, woman? I can’t understand anything you’re saying.

Excited about the prospect of dancing and a formal wedding reception, I had dressed up for the evening, wearing my bridesmaid’s dress from Sam’s wedding with the long flowing skirt that I love so much. Lindsay and Tracy (the groom) were good on their word, there was dancing. Live, big band dancing playing Glenn Miller and Louis Armstrong. And I couldn’t get anyone to dance with me. I finally did manage to drag out every one of the boys from my church out there to the dance floor, away from the food where they lingered and insisted that they escort me off the floor (I’ll save my appalled rant on the lack of common decency and manners later) and had a fabulous time anyway. I caught the bouquet, did I mention that? The pictures make it look like I had staked out the front row position, when in reality, I had just come in from the side. The bride threw the bouquet over the chandelier where it hit the ceiling, bounced off another girl’s chest and landed in my arms.

I thought I had recognized the photographer as the guy who had done the pictures for Liz’s wedding. What do you know, he was a friend of the bride’s sister. I started whistling “It’s a small world” and my friend Sarah remarked that she recognized the guy who followed him around with the flash as the photographer for her friend’s wedding once upon a time.

In any case, the wedding photos were posted online today. There weren’t any pictures of me dancing and I don’t like the pictures of me catching the bouquet (I look manic), but there is a sweet one of the groom and me.

Click for pictures

1. Take the visit of one’s closest friends and their adorable daughter.
2. Add good food: broccoli cheese soup. ham. mashed potatoes. pumpkin pie (never cake when you can have pie).
3. Mix liberally with laughter over shared memories or antics of daughter.
4. Serve with the exquiste tragic romance of Madama Butterfly
5. Top with late nights catching up.
6. Enjoy.

From 30th Birthday

Perfection.

Alice, my friend Susan’s little girl (she’s 18 months ago), is still learning the intricacies of the human language. Julia is much too complicated to say, so now that she’s warming up to me, she calls me “Ya Ya” (my nickname from my childhood when my younger sisters couldn’t say Julia either.

Spending one’s 30th birthday with a toddler is the perfect way to make one feel young again. 🙂

Dear men of the single persuasion,

I have two rules of advice for you as you seek to date others.

1) Movies do not make a good date choice, especially if it is a blind date and/or we barely know each other. Dates are supposed to provide an environment (and I will not argue that it is an artifical environment. I still cannot figure out how one manages to get to the marriage stage by starting off dating, but this is a detour of thoughts) in which the two partners get acquainted with one another and decide if future dates would be nice or not. You can’t talk in movies (you can, but you make your neighbors very upset and then Roger Ebert singles you out in his online review of the movie and you can’t show your face for shame for months…again, another diversion) and given the limited number of choices of movies, you can’t even tell about your partner’s taste based on the movie.

Rule number 1 is especially true if you don’t like movies. Do not take a date to something that you don’t want to go to–that is to wait until later when you are an established couple and have to suffer through those events for the sake of supporting your loved one.

Likewise, if there are movies that you don’t want to see, don’t put it as a option. The Dark Knight should not have been a choice if you couldn’t stand the first one and think that it’s a franchise that is protraying good as evil, etc.

2) Wear a nice shirt. Not a t-shirt. Not a church shirt. Just a nice, casual shirt that shows you put some thought into the evening. If you don’t have one, find a sister or a random girl on the street to take you to the Gap. (I hadn’t realized how much being around Chris spoiled me for well-dressed men).

Good luck in the future, I’ll be eagerly awaiting to hear of your success.

Julia

The date was okay. He was nervous and I was sleep-deprived (advice to myself – no more dates post-call). We may have had a little in common, but I sure didn’t get a chance to find out. Wall-E, btw, was even better the second time. Any movie that uses “Hello, Dolly” as inspiration is automatically elevated to levels of awesomeness in my mind. Date proclaimed that it was “alright.” Hurmph.

We’ll see if he improves on closer acquaintance (hee!)

But I played hooky from work today.

Okay, not really. I went to work this morning, saw all of my 9 patients. One of my patients told me that I “looked freshed off the press and not dry yet.” I think it was a compliment, I didn’t ask. We rounded and saw patients until almost 1pm, clinic started at 2pm and I knew I had to be back to the big hospital for overnight call by 4pm, which meant I’d have to leave at 3:30. So instead of going to an hour and a half of clinic, I went home and did two loads of laundry and took a nap. A much better use of time, I think.

Call so far hasn’t been bad. My sick unit patients are stablish at the moment, my intern is proficient and needing very minimal supervision and I’m watching Hugh Jackson on Leno. I kinda wanna see Australia. It’s Hugh and Baz, man.

Alrighty. I’m off to bed for a few zzzs.

ETA: Short lived. I think I was in bed for 10 minutes before the pager went off. It’s now 1:45 and I’m wondering if I dare risk the fury of the pager…

Even weirder than having a girl you barely know ask you for your phone number for her brother?

Having said brother ask you out over his sister’s Facebook.

…

Apparently, I now have a date for Friday afternoon/evening. I’ll be post call (but it’ll be one of those blissful done-around-7-am calls so I should at least be coherent and not smelly), and Suz and her family are arriving afterward for the weekend. I guess we’ll have something to talk about.

So what would you pick as the perfect first date movie: Batman or Wall-E (which I just saw for the first time last week)?

(And yes, I see the irony in this occuring right after my “woe is me! I’m never going to find anyone” post. Shuddup :P)

(As one of my program directors called it today. I think it makes it sounds like I’m part of this secret society or something.)

I had my semi-annual review today. I don’t know why I get so nervous every time for these. I walked in today with the biggest pit of dread taking up residence in my belly. Of course, all of my fears were drastically way out of proportion. They did not threaten to fire me or tell me that I make their program look terrible. I’m doing fine, they said. My students and interns like me, my attendings rave about working with me, and I perform at the level where I ought to be. And if they truly had problems with me, they would be bringing them up when they occurred, not springing them on me. Probably true, but I don’t think I’ll ever get over the fear entirely–it’s definitely been ingrained from years of needing external validation.

I did share some of my concerns, that I feel that I’m too fragmented switching from medicine to neurology and back every three months and that I’m missing out on lectures that I need to prepare for boards and to take better care of my patients. They both agreed, so I’ve just added a couple hours of lectures to my already full week. I also stated that I feel like I’m being compared to my straight medicine or neurology colleagues of my year, which is unfair because I really am behind since I do six months less than they do every year. I’ve only had 10 months of neurology, when my neuro colleagues have done 14-15 months. My medicine friends will be finishing this year, going on to fellowships and jobs, and I’m not even half way done with my residency. So my in-training exam results are going to be compared to the PGY2s instead, which is definitely better.

I expressed my eternal frustrations with the neurology continuity clinic, of how I’m always behind, always stressed and never feel like I’m learning anything because of it. It’s too late for me (5 more clinics!), but I really hope that they change it so we have 40-45 minutes to see a follow-up patient and staff it. Ten minutes more would make everybody’s lives so much better.

I saved my rants on my neurology program director’s selection criteria for the potential residents interviews (I’ll explain later), but believe me, I think that’s going to come up next time.

The SAR does provide me a chance to reflect on what I need to do to improve my performance and knowledge base. Even though I’ve been told that I’m doing fine, I know I need to do better. It’ll just be 2.5 years before I’m done and expected to know this stuff and I can’t afford to put it off or rely on the lectures to learn it.

Goals until my next SAR:

• Read the review articles and case reports in the NEJM once a week. (Should I get subscription to NEJM, even though I hate getting journals and end up recycling without reading most of them?)
• Read a chapter from Principles of Neurology a week
• Read a chapter from the MKSAP board review book each night
• Catch up on clinic notes (I’m 18 behind)
• Complete evaluations (I’m 5 behind)
• Improve on teaching with students. I always feel like I’m lacking time to teach. I need to have dedicated time with the students each morning.

Obviously, I have some work to do!

A livejournal friend of mine had a baby a week ago. We’ve been friends for over 2 years now, and I’ve witnessed her many struggles to have another baby after 10 years of infertility. I think she had given up on a miracle, but with a referral to a new doctor and a new drug, less than nine months later, baby Caroline is now occupying laundry baskets.

I turn 30 in 4 days. Three decades of life and experience. I feel old and painfully young at the same time.

A friend asked me the other week if I still thought that I might get married, that I might still fall in love and I had to admit that I had been holding on to that fragment of hope. With all of my crying and despairing of boy after boy breaking me by not reciprocating, deep down, I figured there was a miracle out there, some guy who would look beyond my many flaws. Turning thirty makes one confront the reality of those foolish hopes directly–thirty years and I’ve never been on a third date, much less waltzed off into the moonlight. Regardless of what the storybooks say or the disney movies portray, I’m unlikely to get that happy ending.

Turning thirty means facing the realization that this might be it. Walking into an empty house every day with only me as company. Working at a hospital every day. Never getting to snuggle up after a hard day. No hand to hold. No first kiss. No redheaded kids. Just me.

In some ways, I’m so happy with my life. For the most part, I love being a doctor (I don’t always like the training aspect of it, nor the billing and documentation, nor the drug-seeking behavior of a few patients). I love my house. I have an incredible amount of freedom. I have the bestest friends in the entire world.

But in so many other ways, I feel like I’m in limbo, single and waiting for my real life to start. Every day, I’m still treated much like a child. I’m not allowed to make decisions without consulting my attending. I get emails that threaten extra work time if I don’t complete evaluations or dictations or something, a punishment akin to sitting in the corner during free time. At church, we’re all adults, yet we still have chaperons and monthly dances and group activities every Saturday night. Limbo. Too old to be considered as a potential date, but too young to be granted full rites of adulthood.

I am exploring options of enriching the forever single life of mine. Reexamining travel and service options, such as going back to Kenya for a rotation (I had pushed that thought out of my head). Finding a cooking class or dance class or fencing class (idea from my attending) to participate in. I’m not sure if it’s going to be enough to combat the loneliness.

Why did I mention my friend above? Because, even with facing the inevitable, I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to completely snuff out the hope for a miracle and for my own everafter ending. And that, I think must be the most ridiculous thing written on this blog ever.

Comments closed for my protection

I’m exhausted. I crawled home in bumper-to-bumper traffic amidst what weather.comm called a “flurry” and I called a blizzard (shortlived, true, but pretty intense driving for a while). I’ve already napped on my couch here these last couple of hours; I think I’m making it a early night. Hopefully it doesn’t snow too much tonight, I really don’t want to start shoveling already.

In exchange for a real post, I’m sharing my favorite doctor blog link:

http://www.freshmd.com

I discovered her blog a few months ago and just love it. She’s a family medicine doctor in a small town in western British Columbia, taking care of an immigrant population (mostly the Karen from Cambodia) and has beautiful posts on the doctor-patient relationship. She also takes the most amazing pictures of her family and the area that they live in, which I find so relaxing that I have to remind myself that, no, I can’t pick up my bags and go move there, because I haven’t been invited. And who would have thought that it would have been a physician blog that got me lusting over making a quilt like this cathedral quilt?

Her blog may be part of the reason that I’m reconsidering my desire to do critical care, because I’m not sure that the hustle-bustle is what I really want. The idea of finding a smaller community with a smaller hospital that I can work in is becoming more appealing.

Hope you enjoy!

I could have just made an empty post with this icon and it would have summed up my day. 🙂

I took off after early morning church to Madison and spent the day with Chris and his friends. We hung out at his new apartment (which so reminds me of Suz’s apartment that she shared with her sister in SLC), fixing his water faucets that, of course, sprayed rusty water across the room, ate bagels for lunch, wandered around a little bit downtown (it’s definitely starting to get chilly!), went to the movies (Quantum of Solace), ate fried cheese curds (it’s a really good thing that I didn’t know that those existed before) and played trivial pursuit while eating dinner. My friends started falling asleep around 9 (they tend to wake up at atrocious hours like 4:30 to get to work), when I graciously took my leave then.

I don’t get to see Chris much these days. Granted, it’s much more frequently than if he had done residency anywhere else (I haven’t seen any of my classmates since graduation), but considering that we only live an hour and change away from each other and we practically spent every day together for 2 years, it’s pretty paltry. I love how we can get together and nothing has changed. I think I also get the benefit of really seeing him become a surgeon; every time I see him he is more assured and comfortable in his role. He’s planning on applying to this research program that exactly fits his plans for life and I’m so stinkin’ proud of him that I almost don’t mind that it’d be 2 years completely across the country, starting this summer. Oi.

I love his friends. His co-surgery resident (Aaron) is an absolute hoot and in many ways a mirror image of Chris; its not hard to see why they get along. His girlfriend (Gretchen) is someone that I heartily approve of and I’ve almost forgiven him for not telling me that they were dating. She’s smart, athletic, funny, and sensible (a trait that I found somewhat … lacking in his other girlfriends). Plus, she belts out musicals in the middle of a restaurant too–definitely a kindred spirit. I hope she’s around for a long time.

Man, it’s really hard going back after weekends like this.

I just got home. I left my house at 10:30 this morning and just got home. Most of the time was spent chatting with my girl friends, eating yummy noodles and sampling chocolates. Just the way a Saturday should be spent.

Now that’s how a weekend should be. 🙂

I did almost contemplate going Christmas shopping today, to beat the rush, but since everything is going to have to be shipped this year any how, I wisely talked myself out that. I am thinking seriously about a Christmas tree, though, and can’t decide whether real or fake is the way to go. I love the smell of real ones, but I don’t have a stand, or a tree apron and I’m not sure that I’m the most reliable one in terms of watering the poor thing. I had a fake tree for a couple of years in SLC and enjoyed it, but left it behind when I moved.

I also really want holly around my house. I’ve never been able to find “boughs of holly” before but figured that it was because Utah was much too desert like to support its growth. Sadly, I’ve been unable to locate any here either.

And I think I just beat my midnight bell toll. This post won’t be turning into a pumpkin after all!

I am in a really happy mood right now.

All of the patients for clinic this afternoon showed up early and since I was gone to the neurology business meeting for lunch, by the time I came back they had all been seen (or not shown up) and my attending basically waved me away. A whole afternoon off. I love this rotation!

I finally got the bookcase and water bottles out of my car. Yeah for better gas mileage! Tomorrow I’m vacuuming the entire thing out and washing the windshield. Baby’s gonna sparkle.

I got more leaves swept (gutters are still full).

Chris just called, he’s got the weekend off and I’m going to Madison on Sunday to see him! I need to find someone to teach my sunday school class (anybody itching to discuss the law of chastity to a bunch of single adults? Yeah, didn’t think so), but that should be the only glitch. I haven’t seen him for more than a few, brief hours in months, so I’m really excited about the prospect of an entire day. I’ll get to see his new apartment, eat some kind of exotic food and just catch up.

I am relishing the thought of sleeping in tomorrow.

I had pumpkin frozen custard last night, which was phenomenal. THis really is the best time of year, ever.

In just a week, Susan and her family are coming for a weekend visit. Suz and I are going to the opera! And then we’re having an early Thanksgiving/birthday celebration with lots of mashed potations and pumpkin pie.

I’m doing great with my NaBloPoMo goals, haven’t missed a day yet. How are you guys; I hope I’m not boring you all too much! (I have noticed that as my posting has increased, the blogging of many of my friends has decreased… Hmm. A scientific correlation, perhaps?). NaNoWriMo has, as expected, fallen drastically short of the mark, but I’ve really come a long way in brainstorming ideas and plots and characters so it might be something that I can continue to pursue.

And to top it all off, there’s this:

I love Doctor Who and can’t wait for Christmas. 😀

I escaped from work early this afternoon so I could get my gutters cleaned out. My neighbor had ice build up under his gutters last year which caused quite a bit of damage and I am determined to not have that happened to me. So we only had a few patients today and the attending was more than willing to let me go.

If you’ll remember, my ladder was stolen, so when my dad came out here, we bought me a replacement ladder. A slightly smaller, more manageable ladder. Today was the first time I had used it. Or used a ladder without somebody more muscular than wimpy little me.

Cleaning the gutters was an adventure, to say the least. I almost dropped the ladder on me, almost hit my head, almost fell off at one point when my feet slipped. I have a scrap on my chin and I’m pretty sure that there will be bruises on my arms and that they will be aching by the morning.

All of that effort and one of my gutters is cleaned out. It starts getting dark around 4:30 (it’s 4:57 right now and pretty much pitch black outside) and by that time, the wind had picked up and I was cold and miserable by the time I dragged the ladder around to the front and discovered that the front gutters are about 3 inches taller and would require changing the length of the ladder again (which was where injuries 1 and 2 almost happened) or me growing another few inches, which likely wasn’t going to happen in the few minutes before night.

So I’ve given up for tonight. I am now renewing my plans to wheedle some brawny (or tall and scrawny, I don’t care) young man into doing it for me. In plaid. With a toolbox nicknamed Ernie.

It is November 12, and I ate my last raspberry off my bush two days ago. Yesterday morning, I awoke to frost, and the poor raspberries were all frozen to the branches in various states of ripeness, perfectly preserved in their last moments of life. *sniff* If it had just stayed warm for 2 more days, I’d had enough to add to my breakfast. Tomorrow it’s up in the 50s again (but raining). I hope there will be enough of a peak in the clouds that I’ll get to clean out my gutters when I get home.

In another food related news, I had the most awesome dinner. When my friends were here last month, Laura insisted on making a Sweet Potato Curry. But it had to be the right kind of sweet potato, the “pale variety” she told me, more like a potato than a yam. Fine, fine. Sam and I scoured the grocery store, finally finding something that was labeled as a sweet potato and brought it home, where we were flatly informed that it was a yam and would not do. Sam later returned and with the help of 2 grocers who couldn’t resist helping the cute pregnant woman, found the spud, which at least here in Wisconsin is known as a “Golden Yam” (it really is a SweetPotato. So dinner was salvaged and I instantly became converted to the yummy yumminess that is the yellow pale-skinned SweetPotato. Its texture is much closer to a potato, it just has a hint of sweetness to it.

So I was digging through my cupboards this evening and stumbled on a golden sweet potato and I knew I had to make it my dinner. I heated up some minced garlic, whisked in some fat free evaporated milk with curry power, paprika and a touch of cinnamon, poured in on the griddle and then added thin slices of the yummy spud and cooked it until all of the liquid was gone and the potatoes were soft and flaky. Perfect. You all should try it some time. 🙂

(I need more food icons)

Once upon a time (a really long while ago), there was a poetry meme that went around and I found the most beautiful little poem entitled “ Like Anne Shirley’s House“, which, unsurprising, completely captivated me.

I’ve since become a fan of Faye George’s poetry in general, at least those that I can find online. The language is sparse but rich in imagery. Here are two that I’ve especially liked.

ONLY THE WORDS

No one cares:

not the professor
of rhetoric
bored by all
but his own experience;

not the editor
who, in at least
two languages,
has heard it all;

not even
your good friend
who does her best
to listen;

only the words–
the words that rise
from their accustomed tasks
to lead you

deliberately
through ferns
and phonemes
into the woods,

where you must dig
for roots,
fish from the deepest part
of the stream.
-Faye George

WHY THE GOOSE WENT BACK

I miss the scrape of spiked boots on the groundsel
at evening, the iron creak and slam of the door.
The stroke and pet of his hard hand gave the days
their meaning. Jack, can you understand?

In dreams I return beyond the beanstalk, fly
to my old home in the clouds.
Here it is safe, but the thought he needs me
pecks at the eye of peace.

I yearn for the oaken sound of his stride.
What you call bondage,
I would purchase with my last gold ounce.
For the smell of leather and mead, I would sell
my soul.

-Faye George

Clinic today went really, really well. Probably because I had two patients that didn’t show up, but there were other reasons. A couple of my favorite attendings who I just admire so much for their knowledge and compassion were there and staffed my patients. We discussed things quickly and thoroughly, formulated a plan, and went to discuss it with the patients. The patients liked the plans and everything went so smoothly. The attendings didn’t insist on repeating the entire physical exam (my biggest pet peeve. I have a half hour scheduled to see these patients. There is not enough time for me to see them, examine them, you to ask me about all of the details of the physical exam and then you to do it all over again!! Trust me when I say that their sensation is intact!). Plus there was still some time for teaching, both for me and the patients, which was lovely.

Two of my patients were people that I have seen since starting residency 2.5 years ago, and even though I haven’t fixed their problems, I’ve developed a close relationship with them. I will miss them when I switch clinics. When I look over my schedule, most of my patients I really like and they’re the reason that I went into medicine in the first place. I just wish I didn’t feel so overwhelmed all the time so that I could remember that feeling more.

****
Happy Veterans Day! I do love the veterans so and I’m so grateful for the service to the country, and I really do love the opportunity to serve them now. Most of all, I’m grateful for the holiday, so that I could catch up on a few notes, as well as some sleep.

Clinic today went really, really well. Probably because I had two patients that didn’t show up, but there were other reasons. A couple of my favorite attendings who I just admire so much for their knowledge and compassion were there and staffed my patients. We discussed things quickly and thoroughly, formulated a plan, and went to discuss it with the patients. The patients liked the plans and everything went so smoothly. THe attendings didn’t insist on repeating the entire physical exam (my biggest pet peeve. I have a half hour scheduled to see these patients. There is not enough time for me to see them, examine them, you to ask me about all of the details of the physical exam and then you to do it all over again!! Trust me when I say that their sensation is intact!). Plus there was still some time for teaching, both for me and the patients, which was lovely.

Two of my patients were people that I have seen since starting residency 2.5 years ago, and even though I haven’t fixed their problems, I’ve developed a close relationship with them. I will miss them when I switch clinics. When I look over my schedule, most of my patients I really like and they’re the reason that I went into medicine in the first place. I just wish I didn’t feel so overwhelmed all the time so that I could remember that feeling more.

****
Happy Veterans Day! I do love the veterans so and I’m so grateful for the service to the country, and I really do love the opportunity to serve them now. Most of all, I’m grateful for the holiday, so that I could catch up on a few notes, as well as some sleep.

Today was one of the few times I have really enjoyed clinic. As I mentioned, I’m rotating on the spinal cord unit during the morning and in the afternoon, I work in the neurology “specialty clinics.” Multiple sclerosis on Monday, general on Tuesday, dementia on Wednesday, movement on Thursday and seizure (if I’m not post-call) on Friday. The nice thing about these clinics is that there’s only one or two attendings and I can take my time on seeing the patients, because they are also seeing their patients. This afternoon, I saw one patient, a new diagnosis, and got to spend my time going over all of their symptoms, exploring the impact that the diagnosis is having on their lives, treatment, side effect, shown them the images of their brain, etc.

For once I didn’t feel pressured to rush through the history and physical, knowing as I interviewed one patient that the next two patients had arrived already and I was 20 minutes behind and I still had to staff the patient and the attending see the patient and then put in orders, explain again what the plan is, go through the side effects/how to take the new medications, remind again what the plan is, and point them to the front door. Is it any wonder that I sometimes overlook something on the physical exam or don’t ask if their great-aunt twice removed had seizures as a kid? Today, I got to focus on the subtleties and for once, really understood the pathophysiology of what the patient was presenting with.

I’ve been frustrated whenever I’m on the neurology side because I feel so far behind every one else; that I can’t seem to grasp the knowledge base that I need so badly so I can adequately take care of my patients. I’m mortified on a weekly basis when my attending asks me for my differential diagnosis and I can’t come up with it; and I realize that it’s because that above is how I learn, and I don’t get the chance to do that.

I’m off to bed. I’ve been so exhausted recently and it’s my own Tuesday morning clinic tomorrow, which means back to the nightmare. Only 7 more clinics.

Because I’m too tired to coherently write about my weekend:

For those who remember the old 28th ward, there’s a new Facebook group:
Friends of the U of U 28th Ward (Yet another incentive for you to join Facebook, Laura!). It’s a small group, but I’ve already reconnected with a few friends that I haven’t seen in years.

For the Plethora and any nerdy Star Wars fans:

The a cappella group, Moosebutter who perform the original song that this kid is lipsynching, were college friends. This was definitely my favorite of theirs.

And for the young at heart:

I can’t wait!

Then one day (like a week ago), he packed his bags and moved across the country, never to return. All he left were fleeting memories of meaningless flirtations and a bookcase and 25 two-liter soda bottles filled with water in the backseat of her car, which were still there (a week later) because she was too lazy to actually carrying them into the house.

And thus ended the story of Trouble and Julia, the great love saga that, as always, fizzled before any sparks were produced.