mud pies to medicine: And So It Begins

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

And So It Begins

I started this blog sometime during my first year of medical school but never really got it off the ground. Yesterday I was enjoying a glass of wine in Tribeca and the host commented on my bag from B&H. "O what did you get?" he asked. I flashed him my shiny new Sigma 17-50 f/2.8 and we both lusted for a minute. He asked, "So do you have a blog?" and I thought of this page and my absence from it. This time, I'm really going to make it happen. What can you expect to find here? A smattering of everything from mud pies to medicine because that is what my life is like right now. I am about to start my second year of medical school after returning back from an unforgettable five weeks traveling India. A lot of pictures to come from my India adventure. Check back and see what I'm up to!

Probably functional, Jaipur, Rajasthan, India

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The inspiration you ask?

I miss making mud pies. There is this huge rock in my front yard. To call it a rock really does it a dishonor. It is a boulder, brought home by my father on a huge dump truck after he blasted it out of a work site. My mom one day told me that even though it is nearly 2.5 feet high, 6 feet long, and 2.5 feet wide, that it was, in fact, only half-showing. The scientist inside of me was disbelieving and set out to get some proof. Clad in a dress, bow in my hair, and my best accessory, a shovel, I trudged outside ready to prove my mother wrong. That is when the digging began. I dug, and dug, and dug, and nearly all 3.5 feet of Danielle fit in that hole when I had reached the bottom of the rock. That became my digging spot, my mud pie kitchen. Each day it was dug, and each evening it was filled back in. Sometimes the holes were small, sometimes they were enormous, and most days the hole was turned into my mud mixing bowl with that rock as my counter. The novelty never wore off. The ebb and flow of my childhood was, in many ways, measured by the ever-changing depth of that hole in the front yard, the hole that never really disappeared even each day after it was filled in. Even though the grass has grown back in that spot, there still remains, an indentation, the scars of a childhood well lived and the disbelieving scientists I have always been.

So, you ask me why I want to be a doctor? I do not want to be a doctor. I want to open a mud pie bakery with the cash register on that rock in my front yard. But, somehow, I doubt I would stay in business long, for the world seems to have lost its taste for mud pies. I guess being a doctor will have to do.