Graci showed up.
And the party was suddenly so much better.
Happy birthday, friend.
Since the last time I said that... one year ago today...
You became Graci, MD. (Granted, you have chosen a specialty that will never really provide you with cause to write that on a prescription pad, but still...it looks sorta sexy when you scrawl it on the bar receipt, doesn't it?)
You matched into your first choice residency program. An ivy league program, no less. (Which almost makes up for the fact that your local airport is a freaking Twilight Zone shit hole that flies people into town but then can somehow never figure out how to fly them back out.)
Since starting said residency program, you've only lost one testicle. (And to be fair, it's not like he was still using the thing.)
You became an aunt. (There is absolutely nothing humorous to say here. That baby is so cute, it's not even funny.)
You spent a Sunday morning strolling through Central Park with a friend. (Your friend felt like the luckiest woman in all of New York that day.)
Speaking of starting that residency program, in order to do so, you moved far away from home. (So far, your mother has survived that move.)
You have not just survived the move. You have thrived. I know this has not been an easy year, but you have handled it all with such incredible grace. When I called tonight, you sounded amazing. You were having real beer instead of one of those stupid girlie drinks! You were laughing with new friends. You were totally sucking at Fussball...but yelling, "Shut up, it's my birthday!" seemed to be earning you the points your abysmal eye-beer-hand coordination could not.
Happy birthday, Graci.
I couldn't be more proud to be your bif.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Graci showed up.