Every summer my family rents a house on Long Beach Island. According to my mother, this has been happening since 1951.
There are only a few rules for the week at LBI. The first is that every day you must have a monstous sandwich made with fresh bread, cold cuts, jersey tomatoes, pickles, a side of potato chips, and beer on the deck at lunch time. The second rule is that you and a partner must cook dinner at least one night of the week. The third rule is that happy hour starts no later than 6pm.
It is by far my favorite week of the entire year. It always has been and probably always will be. There is something magical about the ocean, the salt air, the dunes, the sun, and having your entire family in one place at one time.
Now, let’s not forget that this is a blog that was created with the intention of chronicling the ridiculousness of med school. What I am afraid might perhaps become a recurring theme of this blog is this: med school is a pain in the ass and gets in the way of pretty much everything.
And so it begins– my family rented the house for two weeks this year, the two weeks happen to coincide with the first two weeks of my second year. According to the third year students, pathology starts off at lightening speed, leaving you with little time to breathe, much less sit on the beach, drink beer at lunch, swim in the ocean, and have happy hour followed by fresh fish and corn on the cob for dinner.
…I’ll try not to complain.