Flori-duh

Adgie playing outside of our townhouse in Florida.

At the beginning of the summer, DH was still waiting for an acceptance to medical school and we were beginning to worry. Time was running out and seats were filling fast.

But then, it happened. Just a month before class started, DH was accepted by not one, but two schools!! After contemplating this decision for awhile, we decided that the school in Florida was a better fit for us, so we hurriedly prepared to move our little family across the country.

The first thing I did to prepare for the move was try to secure an apartment in Florida. It was going to a be a little tricky since we neither had the time, or money to fly down to see any apartments in person before we moved. This was further complicated by fact that most of the rental listings were being facilitated by real estate agents instead of landlords, and that a lot of the properties were governed by Home Owner’s Associations with long application processes and strict regulations.

After having more than a few frustrating and fruitless conversations with Floridian real estate agents, I called a friend to vent. Like a good friend, she helped me calm down and have a few laughs. During the conversation she admitted that the first thing that would pop into her head when she thought of Floridians was, that they were… well, a bit dim. She said that this prejudice was primarily fueled by the “hanging chad” controversies of the 2000 presidential election and a scathing Dave Barry article. We both laughed at the absurdity of the notion, we knew there was no way that an entire state was full of idiots.

But over the next while, as I continued to correspond with various Floridian agents, I really began to wonder.

-Several agents couldn’t comprehend how I could possibly sign a lease without being there in person. (Ummmm, I could use a pen on a reeeeally long pole, since faxes and emails are for some reason unfamiliar to you?)

-One agent, knowing I was living in Utah, called me at 5:30 AM, as she was unaware of a time difference. (Making it worse, it was on a morning following an unusually late night, and I was really hoping to sleep in.)

-When we were trying to apply for an apartment we liked, the agent emailed me asking for proof of income/employment. I replied and explained that although neither DH or I would have a job when we got there, that we would have plenty of money available for paying rent with a monthly scholarship/stipend DH was getting and student loans. The agent replied:

“Without a job, it will be difficult for you to be approved. How do you expect your landlord to pay the mortgage, if you don’t have income to pay for the rent?” (You mean the landlord won’t let us live there for free? Also, it’s good to know that the money that comes from scholarships or loans isn’t actual spendable money.)

-During the application process for a different apartment, (with a totally different agent), the application asked for the make and model of our car. I filled in:

Make: honda  Model: civic.

A few days later, after I had faxed our application to the agent, I got the following message on my answering machine:

“Hi Michelle, I received your application yesterday. Everything looks good, except that you forgot to fill in the make and model of your Honda Civic. So if you could call me back ASAP with the make and model of your Honda Civic, that would be great. Thanks!” (Oh, oops, did I forget that? It’s a Honda Civic Cadillac Escalade. Hope that helps!)

The sign that greets people entering the state.

Despite the little bumps in the process, we were eventually approved for a great townhouse. We really like it down here, and now that I’m here, I’m happy to report that Florida is not full of morons.

So far, anyway. We’ll see how the election goes.

Bloom Where I’m Planted?

In one of my recent posts, I vented a bit about some of the quirks found in my home state. However, because of today’s events, I’m wondering if the state of Utah, as an entity, read the post, was offended, and is now trying to kick us out.

I better start from the beginning:

my DH’s ambition grows exponentially as we get older. When I first met him in high school, his career plan was to get an associates degree at a local state college and then get an entry level tech support job.

Fast forward 6 years. We were engaged and both attending a local state college, but he was now working towards a bachelors in computer science.

Fast forward 2 more years. We had been married for about a year when he was accepted as a transfer student to a local university. He now ultimately planned to obtain a master’s degree in Computer Science.

Fast forward again 1 more year. We now have our darling baby boy. One night, DH comes home and surprises me with the news that he had changed his major. Not going to change his major, he had already done it.

”What? What major did you change to?” I say in an attempted supportive but mostly frustrated voice.

”I changed it to physiology, I’m going to be a doctor! I want to help people!” He announced excitedly.

I think I kind of lost it at that point. His new goal was very admirable, but I was tired of being starving student parents. You see, when Adgie was born, we decided that it was very important to us that I be able to stay home with him, as far as it was humanly possible. While we are very lucky and grateful to have ways in which to make this work, we have zero point no dollars most of the time. In order for him to become a doctor, it meant we would be in this financial limbo for possibly 10 more years. At the time, that sounded like slow. agonizing. torture.

Although I still think that DH’s decision was brash (he has since apologized many times for not talking to me about it first), that it will eventually be a wonderful thing, and I’m now excited for the journey. Currently, DH will be getting his bachelor’s in April, and we are in the process of applying to medical school. I researched all of our choices and narrowed it down to 18 schools.

The medical school application process goes like this:

Round 1: Apply to chosen medical schools.

Round 2: If they like you, they’ll send secondary materials for you to fill out. Many require ridiculously vague essay questions like: “In 250 words or less, please give us some insight as to who you are as a person.”

Round 3: If the school really likes you, you will get invited for an interview.

Round 4: If the school really, really likes you than you get accepted! Yay! If they only sort of like you, you will get waitlisted, and then you hope and pray that after lasting through all of those rounds that a spot opens up for you.

Out of hundreds of medical schools across the country, there is only one in Utah. The University of Utah School of Medicine in Salt Lake City. However, the University of Utah is BY FAR, Salvador’s best chance of getting into medical school (Salvador’s MCAT score is very competitive there, they need minorities like mad, and they give preference to Utah residents). With family and friends nearby, super low tuition, and the far superior Salt Lake Valley beckoning us, it is our first choice.

So far, DH has recieved secondary materials from almost every school that we applied to. However, today we recieved our first rejection letter and it was from the University of Utah. The problem was that out of all of the schools we applied to, the U of U is the only one that has a minimum GPA, and MCAT score requirements. Salvador far surpassed all of the minimum requirements, except for one. His non-science GPA was too low by three-tenths of a point. Yes, three-tenths of a point is preventing him from going to the U of U.

OK, Utah, we can take a hint. It’s time for us to move on*.