One down...

Finished the licensing exam. Results in 3-6 weeks. There continues to be no reasonable explanation for why it takes 6 freakin' weeks to grade a multiple choice test. Hell, the DMV stops the exam when you pass.

One more test to go, on Wednesday. Then a month of being on-call. Yuck. That will SERIOUSLY cut into my rock-star lifestyle.

In other news, I took Friday afternoon off, after the exam. Went down to the French Quarter with Tom (who was in town for Mardi Gras) and wandered around drinking beer and looking at stuff. Found a new bar. Mind you, I'm pretty leery of French Quarter bars, but this place had Guinness on tap, several decent whiskies, a bartender with facial tattoos, a decent menu, the old "Kaldi's" sign (for those of you who wondered where it went), comfy sofas, and (this combination just rocks) The History Channel on the TV and Iron Maiden on the jukebox. I may have to go back.

Self-pity

I just re-read that last post, which was WAY whinier than I meant it to be. Basically I'm just out of study juice (which is not the same as vodka tonics, in case anyone asks) and looking forward to getting this damned thing over with.

Study Break...Study Broken?

Tomorrow starts two days of testing. While not traditionally the most difficult exam (statistically, it's probably the easiest of the major exams I will take), it's still the NEXT exam, which always adds a certain amount of stress. More importantly, this one has very high stakes. If I don't pass it, the last seven years have been a huge waste of time, money, effort, and brain cells.

So no stress. Well, maybe a little.

On top of that, next Wednesday is a less-important but still significant exam for which I've been unable to study, due to cramming for tomorrow's test.

I thought I was done with school....

Rugby Love Addendum

Of course, after Rugby practice you have the Strategy and Rehydration Session at nearby Cooter Brown's (of whose famous Cheese Fries I did NOT partake--gotta get in shape! Battleship's only 9 months away!). I had to go. There was important strategy to discuss. Besides, Ireland was going to kick the living hamhocks out of Wales. So I stopped off for a beer, which earned me a Dirty Look from The Wife upon my eventual return home (at, I'm not kidding, 7:30). Ah, wedded bliss.

Geriatric Rugby Love

Went to Rugby practice last night. We did the drill where you stand in a circle and pass the ball around to the guy on your right, and after you pass it you run around the circle and get back to your spot before the ball does. This is considered "aerobic", which is an obscure Rugby term that means "makes you want more beer".

So after this pleasant little warm-up, we're jogging around the field and I'm feeling a small amount of pain 'cos I'm fat, and I wind up next to the team captain. He looks at me and says, "Ted, you should stop being so old."

Can you believe the nerve of kids these days?

Then we had tackling drills. Nothin' sez lovin' like burying some poor smartass in the mud.

In further good news, I didn't break open any of my stitches.

Insufficient Rugby Love

Once again I report from the pitch:

We were playing touch rugby to work on our recycling, when one of our props got a breakaway and started to run with the ball. He was really movin' too. Then, right at about 5 meters out, he stumbles, falls headlong, and begins howling as if in pain. Not a normal rugger-in-pain sort of sound, which just turns the air blue. No, this was a noise to make brave men cringe. He dropped the ball for a knock-on, too.

Why, you ask?

Turns out he had completely blown out his right achilles tendon (the thing that connects your calf muscles to your heel). As in, see the orthopod first thing tomorrow morning and schedule surgery, expect to be off your feet for at least six weeks, no this can't be fixed with herbal tea and oriental stretching exercises (apparently, there are some things that can).

So that sucked.

I just read over this post, and I feel it's important to include this: it wasn't me. One of the other props.

So practice got cut short, assorted team members spent lots of time scaring people at the emergency room, Heather's Dad gets an A+ for helping out, and that's really all there is to say.