"Save our souls, we're splitting atoms."

Because of some lamentable and tragic moments in my past that involved tequila and what could only be described as a large hadron collider somewhere in my general stomach area, right under and behind the sternum and radiating upward and stopping around my inner ear, I have turned into a cautious bunny who has been living the quiet life of the ginger beer drinkers. We are a quiet bunch who enjoy long walks on the beach, normal sleep patterns and not being tickled. We also still enjoy wine, but shhh, don't tell my liver that ;)

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I'm gonna paint you a picture: it's morning, so early that the trams are the only things making noise on the street, I'm curled up in my nook in the kitchen, the one right between the fruit bowl and the fridge with the chocolate to satisfy both sides of the nutritional coin; and I'm sitting there clutching the coffee cup and whispering sweet nothings to it, the usual 'Our babies would be smart and cheeky and beautiful so why does the world not get the depth and aroma and sting and insert-coffee-related-adjective-here of our love?' and my mother walks in with the words to describe the week:

Darling, you look truly and genuily horrible, like some truck ran you over! Why don't you take a break from uni today?

And when I reminded her I have an exam in 3 hours, she petted my head lightly, passed me a Kinder egg and promptly kicked me out of the kitchen to go and read about neurodegenerative diseases and low-grade diffuse astrocytomas.

Because it has been that kind of week. I did get to see the most amazing surgery where I stared at a brain just an arm's length away (and brains are amazing and powerful even when pushed and pulled apart by horrible diseases and under those light in the OR it looks like it's got the most beautiful red and pink marble pattern and just how amazing is that guys, you're carrying that miracle organ around with you and it blows your mind - ha ha ha - when you realize how awe-inspiring it can be) and that was all-shades-of-the-rainbow great but...

But 8am to 9pm days kill me faster than I killed ants with a magnifying glass when I was young (I was a cute kid with a sharp and jagged sadistic streak) and I fell asleep twice this week in fetal position on the couch with my mother's politically related rambles in the background.

And that's all because of my Public Health and Marketing course which I hate. I hate it so much that I will refrain from putting it into too many words for fear I might run out of synonyms for hate. And it has nothing to do with me almost failing Econ 101 in high school because I am not a bitter person at all. Cough cough.

So this is me sleepy and beat up and yet still in awe after a week of neurosurgery so here we go: come on next week, let's see what you've got.

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But at least it was a good Sunday before all that. Sundays are generally good, because on Sunday, The Boy and I watched countless episodes of The West Wing, aka the best show ever made in the world of everything, and enjoyed good food and sunshine in an almost visceral need to balance the week out.

I was also lucky again to get to model a piece from the spring-summer Tina R. collection. This time I chose the beautiful shirt because it reminded me of pastel watercolors and how summer looks in the rain and of crazy beautiful graffiti, hence the photoshoot location.

You can also check the Tina R blog here for some more inspiration :)

The weather was that weird combination of cold seeping into your bones while the sun gives you sunburns on the tip of your nose, which let to a lot of teeth clattering and a few snowballs thrown around for good measure.

I was excited here because this guy on the wall was new. We had a connection, we really did.

Wearing: Zara skirt, shirt courtesy of Tina R., Kotton sweater, Adesgo tights, Nine West boots.

And this is the moment when I was probably waiting to break into a The Muppets song as a serenade to the little guy. Because that's how cool I am. Man or Muppet anyone? :))

And now excuse me while I bury myself in The West Wing episodes of awesome and daydream of being C.J. Cregg when I grow up while also pondering how Rob Lowe's face ever got that chiseled and if I find that attractive or just plain creepy.

And, as always, revert to my number one coping mechanism: chocolate. Mmmmm.

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Song of the Day: Take That - SOS

"Oh, sinnerman, where you gonna run to?"

I would like to take this opportunity to thank the person who invented ibuprofen because it is a gift in the shape of pretty little pill in those Saturday mornings when the alarm clock rings too early for whatever godforsaken reason and you're a bit hungover because of a night of one too many glasses of wine and staying up late watching violent movies that make one feel grateful for being alive and ordinary. (Lucky Number Slevin and Se7en because it was that kind of night.)

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Guys, guys, here's the thing: the reason for my lack of posting is really just that my life has not been that interesting in this bleary cold month of Fuck-All-It's-Cold-Uary.

Besides a brush with the Plague of the Century during my only holiday until the summer (a.n: and by 'plague' I actually mean 'the sniffles' but it was my only holiday and I spent it coughing in a pillow, watching a mind numbing Vampire Diaries marathon it sucks and I am a horrible little drama queen prone to histrionics) and I've been bouncing around between hospital rounds and making sure I squeeze in all the Oscar movies before this Sunday's (rather underwhelming) festivity and. Well. And that is really more or less the gist of it.

I've also been trying to wrap my mind around neurology (unfunny and not witty pun intended) and I've been failing miserably and I am looking back on my surgery rotation and missing the liver so hard when I try and read my neurology books that I am this close to composing The Ode of the Total Bilirubin. (Except that neurology is also amazing so you can see how things are confusing now, yeah?)

Next week, neurosurgery! And that should be a barrel of laughs and a truckload of pain. But, I try to keep positive by ingesting huge amounts of chocolate, adding wine to every dinner and

remembering one of my favorite quotes from Monroe, one of the best tv shows the Brits have gifted us poor, needy medical students:

"You’re taking your knife to someone’s head. The only difference between you

and a psychopath is good A-levels."

And things just be fine in the end, or else I deem this the worst start of the year ever. So, toes crossed and onward we go lest we go bonkers.

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And now here's to the fun parts!

Some time back I got an email from Dayna at Shabby Apple asking me if I'd like to review one of their dresses. I was familiar with their site and after staring at all the beautifully made dresses they had on display, I could not say anything but a loud, resounding yes!

After a short adventure at the post office (if there is Purgatory, its place is at the romanian post office; most people there where halfway between 'normal human being' and 'serial killer' by the time I escaped) I ended up as the proud owner of this delightfully elegant polkadot beauty you see here.

It reminds me of the dresses the ladies on Mad Men wear, all 50s charm and elegance, and it worked perfectly with the little Sunday brunch date and museum visit I had planned for this past weekend.

This is me excited that it was finally time for a leisurely, yet educational, Sunday. The Boy and I visited the National History Museum after we realized that, as a proud little Bucharest girl, I had never been inside and only glanced at the building briefly when walking to the favorite coffee shop of the moment. And have to tell you, it was really worth it.

I also felt like a princess in this dress, so I would recommend the Shabby Apple site to any girl who loves pretty, high-quality dresses like I do. I am honestly so in love with this dress that I am ready to go down on one knee and declare my undying love to it a la Romeo and Juliet minus the ludicrous dying at the end.

Wearing: Polkadot dress courtesy of ShabbyApple, thrifted belt, Mango tights, Nine West boots, Zara cardigan.

I'm also happy to announce that I was also given a coupon to share with you guys: just add the code cinnamon10off and you will get 10% off on any dress just in time for spring :)

Keeping it a bit punk-rock to keep my inner teenager proud unless she has a hissy fit worthy of a Good Charlotte album. Trust me, I've been there.

And because The Boy and I have a combined mental age of 5, we could not pass by this statue in front of the museum without a reenactment of the "It's a butt!" scene made famous by the masterpiece Finding Nemo. Forever young and and all that, you know how it goes ;)

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Song of the Day: Nina Simone - Sinnerman

"Oh I could bury you alive, but you might crawl out with a knife and kill me when I'm sleeping"

Before getting into medical school, I would marathon House M.D. like my life depended on it, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the long words they used and the cases they anguished over before magically solving them in the last 5 minutes but, 5 years later, I can definitely say two things: it's never this magical or interesting (sorry, no penis fish around here) and it is Lupus surprisingly often. That'll teach us to live vicariously through tv shows.

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Surgery rotation yet again and one too many conversations about jaundice than I could normally stand. But thank the gods for the pancreas to keep one interested and the food, oh yes the hospital food which is so extremely delicious at this particular one that for this striking tastebud delight I would brave the snowy streets and the dark underground tunnels daily. (Old hospitals are great as they're designed like bunkers with tunnels and passageways that are perfect for those days when the snow is mushy and you're wearing nothing but scrubs, flats and your underwear and there is no way you are walking out that door, hell to the no!).

(I also started writing this post last week and then life decided to throw a banana peel on the floor and watch me slip around like in a bad Charlie Chaplin movie rip-off. But after a few days of hell, things are falling back into their rightful place again, I am laying off the emotional eating, everyone is back to being nice and healthy and I can get to wear anything else but scrubs so I guess we all get our victories where we can.)

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The problem to being pulled at from all directions is that sometimes I give up on certain things, like healthy eating and taking care of my hair. When I've been away for too long from the great invention of our century, shampoo for colored hair, I stick to faking it with the help of a few bobby pins and youtube how-to videos.

The red lips are also a great mode of distraction. More "Fuck yeah, trendy red lipstick!" and less "Umm, I know you're all sorts of busy because you want to be the less whiny Dr. Meredith Gray with an addiction to watching too many movies and tv shows but come on, do something about that hair!"

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If The Boy is too distracted by Assassin's Creed and on the side of curious, one can get away with things like these. We are fighting gender stereotypes as we breathe :))

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I was one of the lucky ladies who were invited by the Romanian fashion house Tina R. to model one of their t-shirts from their new collection and when I saw the piece they hand in mind I just could not say no.

I drove The Boy crazy with my random exclamations of "It's so fluffy" and weird excitement as I grabbed him by the collar and walked him out to the garden to have an improvised photoshoot as the first snowflakes turned everything a dainty white.

(Thinking about it now, as the whole country is under mountains of ice and the walk to the corner store feels like fighting the damn Frost Giants on their own turf, our excitement feels annoying in retrospect.)

For the Romanian readers and fashion lovers, Tina R is also holding a cute mother/daughter fashion contest!

Tu şi mama ta sunteţi fane TinaR? Dacă tu ai între 18 şi 30 de ani iar ea, între 38 şi 50, trimite-ne o poză cu voi două la mama-fiica@tinar.ro până în 12 februarie! Intraţi automat în selecţia celor 5 cupluri splendide mamă-fiică pentru shootingul campaniei de primăvară-vară TinaR. Şedinţa foto de grup se va desfăşura în Bucureşti, în a treia săptămână din februarie, iar vizualurile vor ajunge în vitrinele magazinelor noastre, în martie! În 2012, TinaR sărbătoreşte 18 ani de modă românească. Bucură-te şi tu alături de noi, la majorat!

Wearing: Heart T-shirt courtasy of Tina R (get it here!), Zara skirt and cardigan, Mango coat,Accessorize tights, Nine West boots.

More of them here :-)

The next time I walked out in the snow without gloves ended with me sitting with my hands in a sink full of cold water yelling after my mom if we have any vasodilators in the house and wondering how red my hands will get before they get blue and fall off. Winter, you are not as awesome as the Coca Cola commercials make you seem.

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Highly recommended for your reading pleasure: The Art of Fielding and The Night Circus, two wonderful books that will have you turning pages (or clicking buttons, depending on one's choice of medium) in a frenzy. They go well with a comfy couch, a nice cup of tea and gingerbread.

That photoshoot was also the last time I got to walk out of the house with another purpose than hospital visits or trips to the grocery store. The Boy and I did have a mental breakdown this Sunday and we melted our brains at the cinema and saw Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol which was just the perfect dose of corny and vapid with a pinch of kaboom to offer a intellectual respite. (And also: the car, the perfect car!!)

I also tried my brain at watching Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy but I zoned out after the beginning credits and all I could tell you is that Gary Oldman is King and that Benedict Cumberbatchmakes a weird blonde. Will investigate further today, fingers crossed!

(But I am sure that even after a more serious viewing, I will still be in the Gary Oldman is King camp.)

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Song of the Day: Scissor Sisters - I Can't Decide

"We’re waiting for a superhero intervention."

I think this Christmas tree will grace us with it's presence for a long time seeing as we are two lazy people in this house who would rather play Xbox and read books and watch the multiple movies that are currently downloaded and waiting to be enjoyed and bake and, and, and. Thank god the next Christmas is just around the corner :))

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Some people start a new year doing extraordinary things like climbing Mount Everest or finding the cure for the common cold or figuring out what it is about little itty bitty puppies that makes humans turn into big piles of goo. I am not those people.

I have done nothing productive since the clock ominously struck midnight. I have finished the second Game of Thrones books and have watched so much Sons of Anarchy that I am falling in love with the sound of a chopper, I have seen Girl With the Dragon Tattoo in cinema twice and am ready to sacrifice my newborn on the throne of David Fincher, I have trained my body to survive on nothing but junk food and sugar and have spent so much time in bed that I think I will be forever wedded to it. And even though in my world those things sound impressive and monumental and all kinds of deep... I have been told by normal people that this is neither dynamic or constructive.

Luckily for me I could not here those people over the sound of how splendid and satisfying it is to enjoy what will be my last vacation until July this year. So, to quote Dickens, Bah Humbug! to the critics and hello to two more sweet days before hospital rounds crush my soul and make my brain cry all over again.

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It was The Boy's and my 2 year and one month anniversary yesterday so we decided to enjoy the beautiful days of sunshine that have been bestowed on us by the gods of winter who are also on a holiday it seems, and have a nice brunch and walk around the city.

But, in the words of the great Terry Pratchett: Gods like a joke as much as anyone else. So of course, it started raining and the whole world turned into a giant wet pile of gray.



Brunch was still great but the walk was damp and the park was cold and we were only saved by our tourist-y umbrella we have left over from our trip to Amsterdam.



You can tell from my face that I was not pleased. Or I was hungry. The face I'm making works in both these situations.






I got new boots and they have been properly baptized in the mushy porridge that is the ground.









Wearing: Mango coat, Lashez dress, Accessorize tights, Nine West boots.



I also looked like poodle who has been licking the electric wall socket. I would take this moment to thank the makers of my anti-frizz hair conditioner and cream. You go, Glenn Coco!



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After my mother kidnapped me to go buy food and we ended up in approximately 20 stores with a slight hypoglycemia and a headache but with dresses and boots (She has a problem with buying boots, so many boots, because when the end of the world comes you can never have too many boots. And tuna cans.), we felt a tad guilty so we detoured through Zara Men. We had to fight off some hipsters looking for painted on jeans and Lady GaGa t shirts but in the end we got this for my boy.

Because Steve McQueen is cooled than we'd ever be even if you stuck us all in a polar icecap and let us drift slowly in the ocean. True story.

Also: pretty nails.



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Song of the Day: Johnny Hollow - Superhero