A house slowly becoming a home

I had a long list when I bought my house, a list of to-dos and to-buys and to-learns. I'm not very far down the list, but since I lose perspective when I only think of everything left on the list and not the things I've accomplished, I sat down to do an accounting of my house.

Check, double check:
dining room table and chairs
wireless network printer
basketball hoop (this is just a check, not a double check...still crooked)
rip out massive juniper bushes
re-landscape with two-tiered retaining wall (close enough to count as done)
program the sprinkler system
trim and mow my own lawn
fertilize the yard
gas grill for the back porch
flower pots for the front steps (thanks, Laura)
artwork hung on the walls

Still to come:
refertilize (this time with crab-grass killer)
kill the woodpecker
giant painting for above the fireplace
new kitchen table after Laura moves out
new curtains for the living room and dining room
paint the family room
sofa table/hutch for the entryway
vegetables and flowers for the planting beds in the retaining wall
an adult desk
for that matter, adult bedroom furniture
overhead lights for the living room and family room
stainless steel kitchen appliances
change the furnace filter and clean the dryer vents
start cooking, seriously
table runner for the dining room
patio furniture

So, the to-do is still longer than the have-done, but some of that stuff can be years down the road. I'll just keep slowly plugging along. Congrats to all my friends who have recently bought houses or are days to weeks away from closing. Here's to many happy homes.

I was addicted to saying things and having them matter to someone.

That subject line is a quote from the movie Waitress, which by the way, if you haven't seen, go rent it. Or buy it. That line always hits me because aren't we all occasionally in need of just someone to listen. Really listen, not just hear. I was watching You've Got Mail the other night, for the third or fourth time, and as Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks are writing back and forth about nothings that mean more than so many somethings (paraphrased from a line in the movie), I realized that that's sort of what blogging could be. Granted, there is nobody to write you back. But sometimes the need for someone to listen is really just a disguise for the need to just say what's on your mind. So, here's a nothing post.

I recently decided to relandscape my backyard, to remove the offensive and overgrown juniper bushes that filled the bulk of my yard. We aren't talking a couple bushes planted to add some green to the space. We're talking dozens of nightmarish stumps and branches towering over me, blocking my view, covering the entire downhill slope of what would otherwise be a pleasant outdoor space. The project started with my desire to get a dog. I need the bushes gone so I can see the yard from my kitchen window, keep an eye on the mutt, give him/her a little room to run. So, as a new homeowner with no negotiating skills and no landscape experience, I started calling for estimates. We are now a week past the original estimate, and my yard looks like a war zone. About 35 hours of labor has gotten me piles and piles of dead branches and gnarled roots waiting to be delivered to the dump. You should've seen the place on Saturday. I thought the landscaper was going to spend eternity cursing my name after he got about 8 hours in and realized he had drastically underestimated the scope of the project.

It is almost to the point of being ready to relandscape the hill. And if I thought I was in over my head before, I'm now thirty feet underwater, tied to a bait box while sharks circle, not unlike my shark diving experience in Nassau. At least then I was floating on the surface. I have not a single creative bone in my body. Well, maybe my inner ear bones, but they hardly count, being so small. So trying to picture how to best design my yard is taxing my mental capacity. Do I risk trying to sod a steep hill, knowing the grass may not grow? Do I try for a retaining wall that at best estimate would need to be about 50-feet long. I'm not exactly working with an unlimited budget. Do I plant anything else, staying as far away from juniper as possible? Rock? Flowers? Vines? I haven't the slightest idea. And yet, I'm grateful that as I find myself in a situation above and beyond my comfort level, that I am at least spurred into action by the disaster that exists in my yard now. I can't leave the place looking like the aftermath of an explosion. I have to do something, anything, to make it functional and mildly aesthetic. Plus, there is the motivation of a puppy just around the corner. And by that time, my biggest worry is going to be choosing a name.

Too often when we find ourselves in over our heads, it doesn't take much for despair to overwhelm the impetus to action. And our feet tread back and forth until we are standing in a shoulder-high rut. Fortunately, the only rut in my near future is the massive one in the dirt outside my back door.

Clean soul, clean slate

I'm watching Garden State on my couch while finishing my coffee. Large's friend who made the silent velcro was sitting in the graveyard talking about "drugs of choice" and how it reminded him of Brave New World which I've always thought was one of the better books I had to read in high school. Anyway, he couldn't remember who the author was and said, "Aldous, Aldous, Aldous...[side shots of Large and Mark while the other dude drones on in the background]...Aldous Huxtable. That's it, Huxtable." It cracked me up.

But the reason I took the time to log in to blogspot was to say that two Mormon elders just knocked on my door to invite me to have a relationship with Jesus. Only I was Stone Cold Michelle from the second that I opened the door, not because I have all that much against the missionaries, but because I didn't really want to take the time to talk to them. And they definitely sensed it. I have never been so aloof in a conversation before. My body language and my tone and my words basically said "Get off my porch." And enter the massive amounts of Catholic guilt that have plagued me for my whole life. Why was it beyond me to be courteous to these people who are walking around in the cold? Why couldn't I have said, "I'm a happy Catholic who already has a relationship with Jesus and the fullness of truth in the Church, but I wish you well in your door-to-door evangelization." Would it have killed me to be nice?

Anyway, sometimes talking about my guilt helps me get over it and forgive myself faster, so there you go. There's my confession for the online world.

What you can get me for my birthday

A little on the pricey side (not relatively speaking in the boot world, just for me to buy after having purchased a $550 plane ticket), but with a day off to shop, I have found the cowboy boots I would like to get. They feel like slippers once they are on for about five minutes. Unfortunately, I think Sheplers is the only place that sells them and I don't anticipate being able to find them any cheaper. Still, next time I'm in a splurging mood, for a hundred buckaroos, I can have...



More info in case the picture doesn't do the boot justice. Visit Sheplers.

MLIA for Pharmacists

Well folks, I had envisioned grand things for my 100th post. No such luck. Maybe I'll think up some phenomenon for number 101. In the mean time, I wanted to jot down a funny story even though nobody gets pharmacist humor. Last night at work, I was in the IV room which normally doesn't involve a large amount of critical thought. However, I was filling a dose for 998mg of acyclovir (10mg/kg on a large kid), after having just a couple days prior found out that our ID team likes to cap IV doses at 800mg, even on the really big kids. I mentioned this to the other pharmacists working, hoping that one of them would have time to call a resident and ask about a dose change. About forty minutes later, the dose change came through. I poked my head out of the IV room and yelled, "Sonia, thanks for taking care of that acyclovir." She looked at me like I was crazy. Nobody had called the resident. Good thing our medical residents are telepathic. I might never have to make a phone call again. MLIA.

Also this week at work- events that make me think that doctors/nurses should sometimes be required to experience what they subject their patients to. Cases in point: A 1,000ml vancomycin enema. A 5.8ml IM injection. Running IVIG at nearly 3x the max rate, giving the kid rigors, HA, LOTS OF PAIN!!! And, after taste tests, any po suspension dose of clindamycin, levofloxacin, dexamethasone, ranitidine, acetylcysteine, etc.

And that's enough thoughts of work for my day off.

Cinemagic

Well folks, I have an hour to kill until the 2-HOUR SEASON PREMIERE OF CHUCK!!! and I am stuck at my parents' house because I promised Kelly I'd watch it with her but she won't drive to my house to watch it because she doesn't want to drive herself home afterward. So I agreed to stay here until 8:00. And while an hour isn't nearly enough time to finish this blog, I figured I could start it because I've been wanting to write on this topic for some time. In no particular order, my favorite movie scenes of all time:

While You Were Sleeping- dinner scene, a la Beef and Nazis. It probably takes a few times through to catch every bit of conversation and the randomness in between. "You like brunettes." And it makes me laugh every time. Kind of like the lost "Go to your room" when Mary tells the Callahans that Lucy is pregnant. It's like knowing a secret that nobody knows to watch that scene and know exactly what's going on. And it reminds me of the wonderfully chaotic Zapapas family Christmas brunch.

Waitress- "Dear Baby, I hope someday somebody wants to hold you for 20 minutes straight and that's all they do. They don't pull away. They don't look at your face. They don't try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms and hold on tight, without an ounce of selfishness in it." Enough said. Also, every scene with Andy Griffith.

The World is Not Enough- any scene in which Denise Richards says something like "Do you wanna put that in English for those of us who don't speak spy." Because it cracks me up. She can't act, she is not even remotely believable as a nuclear scientist and she makes somewhat of a sissy Bond girl. And I love it. One of my fave Bond movies because it is so atrociously ridiculous.

Lord of the Rings: Return of the King- Pippin singing to Denethor as Faramir leads the assault on Osgiliath. The song is hauntingly beautiful and it brings the scale of a massive movie down to a personal level. It's been a long time since I've seen the movie, so I don't remember much except the ache that you feel as these men ride to their deaths. I could pick any number of moments from the trilogy (Aragorn kicking an orc helmet in anguish when he thinks Merry and Pippin have been killed, Arwen and Aragorn's reunion, Sunrise on the Battle at Helm's Deep), but this one in particular showed great acting, screenplay, score, direction, etc. For all I know about the technicalities of film-making anyway.

The Ultimate Gift- "My dream was a perfect day, and I'm just finishing it." Jason finally getting it, doing everything to bring joy to those that he loves. It helps that it included horseback riding. And Alexie Gilmore is charming as she realizes that Emily set the whole thing up for her. It makes me yearn with my whole heart to have a day like that.

Return to Me- There are so many quotes and little gems of moments to choose from. Picking up the red phone, answering it with "haven't you?" "She's not a Buick." "I will not have that name said in this house." "Is that possible?" "Potty-mouth's gonna change the bed." But the movie is stolen by Carroll O'Connor, Robert Loggia, Eddie Jones and William Bronder. Any scene with the four of them is brilliant! Especially when Angelo is screaming "He's got him in a choke hold." Love it! They play off each other so well.

Serendipity- The whole first 8 minutes or so. John Cusack being his adorable charming self and a world-champ flirt. That somebody could turn a chance encounter in a huge city into a romantic evening is encouraging to say the least. He's just so nonchalant about the whole thing, letting the night go where it may, and yet making it painfully obvious that he's trying so hard.

Ok, it's been 45 minutes but I'm getting kicked off the computer. Part two to be written at a later date. Sorry I didn't get as many in as I'd hoped. Cheers.

And NO MORE MR. NICE SPY.

A bit of superficial fluff to counteract the deeper considerations of starting a new decade:

Caution: reading this blog entry may cause you to think of me as a shallow individual.

A friend of mine has warned me that when I start dating somebody, I can just throw out any preconceived notions of what I find attractive. Inevitably, if I like dark hair, I'll fall in love with a blond. If I like outdoorsy, I'll suddenly find nerdy academic to be tragically hot. (This one I seriously doubt.) But that's okay, because the spectrum of things that attract me are so wide and random that anybody I meet is bound to at least have two or three qualities. And when I say random, I mean RANDOM. Here's a starter list (in case anyone out there is looking to find me a nice man):

Baseball tees, motorcycles, strong hands, cowboy hats (and cowboy boots, and horse sense, and western belt buckles, and a drawl), musical taste, musical talent, easy laughter, accents, Birkenstocks, Chacos, straight teeth, knowledge of literary classics, definitive favorites, ability to throw a spiral football pass, rapport with kids, a spirit of adventure (not stupidity), french blue button-downs, kitchen skills, humility, old worn t-shirts, did I mention musical talent?, leather jackets, having a dog, love of old movies, being handy, holiness, being a devoted fan (unless their team of choice is the Chargers), etc.

So there are a lot of options to choose from, and chances are if I'm attracted to him, he'll embody at least a couple of these. And then I can tolerate if all other qualities go against my preconceived preferences. Plus, let's be honest. It's the deeper characteristics- (moral conviction, honesty, compassion) that make the man anyway. The rest is icing on the cake. And I like all different kinds of icing.