Pimple Popper, MD

I realize this is not the first reference to Seinfeld on this blog, and it is not likely that it will be the last. Anyway, the last couple weeks in school we've been studying all about oncology and dermatology. Before our lecture on dermatologic neoplasms, the lecturer made a reference to this Seinfeld episode in which Jerry is dating a dermatologist. Jerry gets to feeling a little inadequate seeing as she's a doctor out there saving lives and he's "just a comedian". But George convinces him that dermatologists aren't real doctors, and they don't save lives, they're just a bunch of "pimple poppers". The following scene ensues as Jerry confronts her about it.


"Skin cancer....damn!" His relationship ends there. Hopefully I won't forget about skin cancer on my upcoming test. On a side note, I felt a little old when nobody in the class recognized the reference and I realized that many of my colleagues were in junior high when the show ended.

Although I haven't the slightest interest in dermatology, I do give it props for having the most grotesque and vomit-inducing conditions. I won't post any pictures for the queezy, but if you're into grody stuff, click here for an example of bullous pemphigoid, a gnarly blistering autoimmune disease.

The Audacity of Seth

Aaron and I are big fans of our new president. Last week I put up a picture of him in Seth's room, hoping to get him to say "Obama" by inauguration day. He's so good at mimicking most things we say, I figured it would be a piece of cake. For some reason, what comes out of his mouth each time sounds nothing like "Obama" and a lot like "dammit". It appears we may have a staunch conservative on our hands. While I want to encourage my kids to think for themselves and thoughtfully develop their own political views, I really didn't think it would start already at age 1.





P.S.--My apologies to Aaron for posting a substandard, blurry picture on our blog, but it was really difficult to get Seth to pose for a picture with his nemesis.

LJ Cove Sunset

On being prego

I'm great with child right now. Our newest sweety is due in less than a month, so I can hardly imagine how smashed up my organs are--they feel that way for sure. It's that time in pregnancy when people often look at my belly instead of my face when they see me coming. It gets an inordinate amount of attention at the gym. I still regularly work out at the gym, but I can hardly go to a class without being singled out for my courage to continue working out in my condition. I'm not trying to win some prize, I just like getting out of the house and living life like I normally do. My spin class teacher is the most consistent with his comments. For months he's been telling the class "I don't want to hear any complaints out of you because Leslie here is about to become a mom, and she can do this!" (He's been corrected numerous times that my name is actually Lindsay, and that I'm already a mom, but it never sinks in and we're sick of correcting him). For months now, I sense this fear in certain people at the gym that I'll give birth in the aerobics studio or on the treadmill. It's a funny phenomenon I've noticed, that as soon as you start looking pregnant, people think you're going to deliver any day, and the more times they see you they can't believe you're still pregnant. Well, it takes a while to make a good sweety.
For some reason, I get a little embarrassed to do things that I feel like everyone expects of pregnant women. Example: I hate asking where a bathroom is because I feel like us pregos are this painfully obvious team of bathroom-seekers. I also feel a little bit of shame in eating in front of people because I picture them imagining that I'm consuming my 12th meal of the day in order to feed my fetal parasite.
Anyway, I love this little thing inside me that gets hiccups nightly and does flips inside me. I already feel really attached to her. We can't wait to see her little face next month.

Base-back-ball

For Christmas, Seth got a set of plastic golf clubs, a baseball tee, and a basketball hoop. Maybe we're a touch guilty of pushing obvious gender-role toys, but Seth naturally gravitates toward sports. (He does enjoy dancing and cooking as well). This is just a short clip of Seth enjoying his new basketball hoop on Christmas morning. He likes to pronounce it "base-back-ball".

Christmas and stuff

Christmas and it's associated "vacation" have come and gone. It's a new year, and it's back to the grind now. Although fleeting, we had a pretty good time--we drove up to the Bay Area and spent a few days with both sets of parents so they could get some quality Christmas cheer from Seth. It was fun as he really enjoyed the idea of opening and receiving gifts for the first time. We spoiled him with a bunch of new toys, most of which either have to do with a sport that includes a ball. He got a toy basketball hoop, a baseball tee, several baseball bats and balls, and toy golf clubs. In fact after opening his first gift, this spongebob baseball bat and ball from his grandparents, he saw no need to continue with the festivities--he was satisfied with his gains. We had to convince him to open up more presents.

We had no way of knowing how enthralled he would be with this last minute and very inexpensive gift:

He is obviously stunned with joy. Surprisingly, he actually loves these little plastic animals. The train at my parents house was also a big hit:

Too bad the break went by so quick.