Well Portland Oregon and sloe gin fizz, if that ain't love then tell me what is

I am currently doing my fourth month-long away elective in Portland. I now realize that while I know I don't want to stay in Ohio for residency, getting out of Ohio for 4 whole months probably wasn't the best plan. I was exposed to H1N1 in multiple hospitals. I lived in environments that involved sharing bathrooms down the hall with french scientists, hippie medical students, and occasionally a lizard. I had to buy both warmer and cooler clothing depending on my location and inappropriate packing (how could I predict what I would need for the next 4 months when I left Toledo?). I had to shop in weird unfamiliar grocery store chains. Today, I felt homesick and trekked down a steep hill to get some Chipotle like they have back in good old Colorado. I got back to the co-op where I am currently staying and settled down to watch yesterday's episode of 30 Rock. As I watched Liz Lemon substitute a scented candle for deodorant, I saw myself in her character.

(There was a video here before the NBC nazis took it down: it was Liz Lemon smelling her armpit and then rubbing a scented candle on it)

Later when she went to Georgia, I was reminded of how uncomfortable I am in the unfamiliarity of each new location I visit.

(There was also a video here: it had Liz Lemon sick with Jack handing her a bottle of medicine. She then says, "What is this? Peppy Bismilk? Why is everything a little different here? I HATE IT!")

I feel unkempt, and less organized in general in all these new locations. While I really enjoy visiting lots of new locations, I am afraid I may have tired myself out too much before interview season. Here are a few things I learned about each of the cities I visited. This information does not include any opinions about any of the residency programs because it's interview season and I'm not stupid.

San Francisco: Expensive city. Don't go into the woods in golden gate park after dark, and also before dark. I don't like Ethiopian food. I really like "hot chocolate" brownie desserts.

Tucson: Really hot. Lot's of different desert wildlife: snakes, lizards, scorpions, coyotes. The desert museum is not actually a museum - it's a zoo. A cactus can be pretty. Also, when I said there were scorpions, I want to emphasize that they were IN the house, yuck.

Denver: Best city ever. I love being home.

Portland: I've only been here for a week. I live right next door to the hospital so I don't really get a chance to explore. I am excited to see what the city is like this weekend. So far I only know that it is wet, the fall trees are really pretty, and there is a pretty high chance that there are bed bugs based on the bites on my legs and arms. :( Also, there are a LOT of hippies here, and that's saying something from a girl who went to college in Boulder.

--By Farrah, who never thought she would admit that she misses Toledo. Also, bonus points to anybody who recognizes the lyrics in the title.

Singles Vs. Marrieds: A Comparison Study

In the Sex and the City episode "A Woman's Right to Shoes," Carrie attends her married friend's baby shower. The host insists she take off her Manolo Blahniks upon entering her penthouse apartment. But when Carrie leaves, the Manolos have been stolen, and the hostess refuses to pay the exorbitant $485 to replace them. At the end of the episode, Carrie registers herself for the same shoes she lost at the Manolo Blahnik store and announces her marriage to herself. After all, she reasons, "Think about it. If you are single, after graduation, there isn't one occasion where people celebrate you. ... Hallmark doesn't make a "congratulations, you didn't marry the wrong guy" card. And where's the flatware for going on vacation alone?"

I never really thought there was much of a difference between married and single people. Weren't we still a part of the human race? Recently though, after spending quality time with married people and observing them in their natural habitats - one-dish dinner parties and Ikea - I have realized that singletons and marrieds have diverged into two different species - call it homo marritus vs. homo singletus. The question remains - can we still co-habitate?

Recently, I was sitting at a table with married people who were slightly older than me, but not so old that they wouldn't get the Jesse Spano, "I'm so excited!" reference. As I sat there, attempting to make conversation, I realized that for the first time I was at a loss for words. One girl discussed the difficulties of building a home - picking out the tiles, the sinks, the appliances etc. I had been renting since I was 18 and would probably continue to do so until the age of 31 when I finished residency (i.e. when I could finally afford anything that didn't have linoleum floors and a shared wall), so I merely said, "Yeah...Home Depot is a confusing place" awkwardly.

Another girl discussed how her son had just gone for his first soccer practice and how confused he had been by the concept of kicking the ball into a large net and had merely wandered off to pick daisies instead. I didn't have a 4 year-old son or ever play soccer, so I merely "awwww'ed" accordingly as is customary to do so when someone tells you an incident about their under the age of 10 child.

Another day at a post-Ramadaan brunch, I once again found myself at a table full of married folks. The restaurant was taking a long time to fulfill everyone's orders, and one girl's husband rushed to her side and gave her a Danish pastry he had ordered so that she wouldn't get hungry. "Awwww!" the other marrieds cooed, "My husband doesn't do that ever!" they said with mock-jealously. There was congenial laughter about how sweet this said husband was and how their own spouses were too busy watching football to care that much. I was the only single girl at the table and by this point, I had learned the value of silence.

During my one-month stay amongst the Marrieds, I felt less like the independent Miss Mary Tyler Moore with her "you're gonna make it after all" attitude and more like an old unmarried lady with other unmarried lady doctor friends who only had a wealth of arcane medical knowledge and a litter of cats for company. Even Carrie who felt inferior to the smug married people got her Manolos at the end of the episode and could drown her sorrows in her fabulous wardrobe. But where are real single people supposed to find solace? In their crappy H&M and Banana Republic-on-sale button downs and poly-blend work pants (which is all one can really afford on a resident salary)? Or perhaps we can find silver lining in that our conversations haven't solely degenerated into the chemical composition of baby vomit and home moldings. Yet.

--By Mariam, who feels bad because she hasn't blogged in so long.