Another of my posts is up on Medscape’s group medical student weblog, The Differential. Head over here to read about my brother’s brush with death.

The 5th edition of the Cancer Research Blog Carnival is up at the bayblab blog. Go forth and become knowledgeable.

Skiing was a lot of fun. My legs fell off a few more times, but overall I was pleasantly surprised by how well my body held up and how quickly skiing came back to me. As a group, we did a lot more harassing and/or threatening of lives of customer service personnel, avoiding showers like the plague, and fighting amongst ourselves. For example, we had a total of five different rental cars—and two at the same time for the entire week—for the price of the single original reservation, we took roughly 13 showers between the six of us during the last seven days, and I’m fairly confident my mom’s boyfriend is going to break up with her, mostly because she was rather unpleasant with him over the fact that he cannot ski to save his life. We had a pretty interesting dinner a few nights ago following a particularly intense scuffle that was probably the last straw. Awkward! Then he threatened to take the next flight home but ended up skiing falling down the mountain with us the next day anyway.

Other highlights:

Mom, over walkie-talkie: BEN, ARE YOU THERE?
Me: Yes, what’s up?
Mom: WHERE ARE YOU?
Me: I’m on the ____ lift.
Mom: HELLO, BEN FERGUSON, COME IN, BEN FERGUSON.
Me: I’m on the ____ lift.
Mom: TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE.
Me: I’m on the ____ lift.
Mom, 15 seconds later: ARE YOU THERE?
Me: No.

Mom: Ben, can you go to the store and get bread, OJ, bananas, and nail clippers?
Me: I got nail clippers at the store yesterday.
Mom: I flushed them down the toilet.
Me: Great.

Mom: Ben, can you go with Hannah to get a new phone battery?
Me: What happened to her battery?
Mom: She flushed her phone down the toilet.
Me: Again?
Mom: Yes.
Me: Fantastic.

Mom, the thrower-downer of several grand on current ski trip: Ben, on your way home, can you steal some salt from McDonald’s? We need some to cook dinner.
Me, loading skis into the car: Can’t we just buy some at the store? If I get arrested, I’m going to be upset with you.
Mom: No. Go to McDonald’s. You look like you need a task, and I’ve already spent enough on this trip.