News Flash!

I must interrupt this regularly scheduled program because I am bursting with news! The evil, unrelenting internet has been summoning me to blog about this, so I guess I'm just going to have to give in.....

We found a house that we love and we put an offer in on it yesterday! Woohoo!

I have been afraid to blog about it so far because I was worried that the whole thing might be jinxed. But then I thought that maybe if I told the world and asked everybody who reads this to think good thoughts/pray/talk to Xenu/will it to happen, then maybe our offer would be accepted.

I am nervous beyond belief. On the one hand, I'm worried that they won't accept our offer because there are two other offers on the table. (However, our realtor is pretty sure that ours will be the best offer because she thinks that the other two are probably from investors that are just trying to see if the seller is desperate enough to accept a lowball offer.) On the other hand, I'm nervous because if they do accept our offer, then I'll be like "Oh shit, we own this thing." Plus, it will need a ton of work before we could move in, because it's a foreclosure. And we don't know shit about shit when it comes to remodeling. So yeah, that's a little scary. I'll admit I was shaking as I was driving home yesterday.

All I know is that we've probably looked at around thirty houses so far, and this one has been the closest thing we've found to what we're looking for. I just really, really, really hope they accept our offer. So please, if you're reading this, hope/pray/talk to Xenu/wish upon a star/think good thoughts for us, and maybe, just maybe, we'll finally become proud owners of our very first home. I'll be keeping my fingers and toes crossed and wearing my lucky rabbit's foot.

A Day in the Life (cont.)

After a short walk through the town, we duck into the ski shop, stomping our boots and dusting off the fine layer of snow that we have already accumulated. The shop is chock full of bustling activity. Customers fill up every inch of every bench throughout the shop, as they are all trying to strap their boots on and get ready to brave the mountain. Employees dart in and around the customers, helping them try on boots and pick out the right skis. And in the middle of it all, Rugs, the shop owner's bear-like golden retriever, is sprawled out, taking a nap. To him, it's just another day at the shop.

As I make my way through a particularly unaccommodating group of South Americans, who are blocking the aisle and speaking boisterously in their native language, I look for the familiar faces of the ski shop boys. These veteran employees of the ski shop have over time become old friends that I look forward to visiting with every year that we return. It's too busy for chatting right now, but at least I get a head nod and a smile from one or two of them. After saying "Excuse me, " about a hundred times, I finally elbow my way through the crowd, retrieving my ski boots from the drying rack and heading toward a corner of a bench that has just opened up.

It occurs to me that it's already midmorning, and I start to get anxious that all the good snow is getting used up, so I hastily strap my ski boots on and finish getting my gear together. My favie, my dad, and my dad's close friend that always comes skiing with us are all just about ready to go, so I throw my shoes in the locker and head for the door, grabbing my powder skis on the way. Once we regroup outside, we all grab our skis and start the short walk to the base of the mountain.

My excitement builds, thinking about the ski runs that I want to tackle for the day, and I start walking as fast as I can in my bulky and awkward boots. The base of the mountain is crawling with people, and I keep a vigilant eye all around me, as I watch for others that may be haphazardly carrying their skis. One wrong move and I could easily be whacked in the head! We carefully descend several metal steps to get into the long line for the gondola, which will take us to the top of the mountain. After inching through the line for about fifteen or twenty minutes, we finally set foot into our eight person carriage, the doors close, and we begin our ascension through the snow and fog.

The ride to the top takes about ten minutes, and I watch the ant-like skiers whizzing down the mountain below me. We all laugh when a snowboarder doesn't land his jump, resulting in a total yard sale. Finally, we make it to the top, hop off the gondola, grab our skis from the rack on the gondola door, and head inside the adjacent building, where we take a quick pit stop. Then I make the final adjustments to my boots, gaiter, gloves, and goggles, and meet the others outside. We all snap into our skis, and after what has seemed like eons of getting ready time, it's finally time to ski!

We ski down the small hill to the beginning of the run we have already decided to go down first, and then off we go like dominoes, one after the other. My heart beat picks up as I speed off, gliding with ease down the slope. The foggy snow cloud continues to envelope us as we ski down towards a ski lift that is about halfway down the face of the mountain. It is so foggy, I can barely see my dad, who is already disappearing into the trees about seventy-five yards ahead. The snow and wind sting the few exposed portions of my face, but I barely notice because I am too busy enjoying the soft, fresh powder that my skis are sliding through like a hot knife through melted butter.

more skiing coming soon...

A Day in the Life

I have been working on this little narrative on and off since we got back from our ski trip.... It's not quite done yet but I've been wanting to post something, so here's what I have so far...

I wake up. My bed is warm and snuggly, and I have my sheets and blankets pulled up tight to my chin. Still half asleep, I try to fight my heavy eyelids and wipe the Grand Marnier and red wine fog from my brain. The sweet smell of brewing coffee wafts into my room from the kitchen. I hear the cheesy "Good Morning Vail" song coming from the TV in the next room, which is always set to the local Vail station in the mornings. Hearing that song lets me know that it's 8am, and I must peel myself out of bed. I wake up a little more as I finally roll out of bed and shuffle in my slippers towards the voices in the next room.

I sit by the fire drinking a fresh cup of hot coffee, just trying to absorb as much heat as possible. As I watch the daily weather report, I notice that it is currently 20 degrees and snowing. I start to get excited when the snow report comes on, saying that there are 9 inches of "fresh pow" on the slopes. Time to hurry up and get ready to tackle that powder! I slurp down my coffee with a bowl of oatmeal, eyeing the bathroom door. As soon as the person inside emerges, I throw my dishes in the dishwasher quickly, knowing that if I don't go ahead and take my turn in the bathroom, one of the other four people I'm sharing it with will jump in ahead of me. I know that if I'm not ready in time, I'll be subject to the usual playful, but still really annoying, prodding from my dad to hurry up.

I finish putting my hair in pigtails just in time to grab my gear and join the others in clearing the fresh snow off our rented SUV. As I walk outside, the refreshing cold hits my face, and I feel snowflakes melting one by one on my nose and lips. My boots are already covered in snow just from walking up the driveway to where the car is parked, and I can see the intricate shape of each tiny snowflake that has nestled itself into the folds of my jacket.

When the car is finally ready, we all pile in, hoping that we'll make it up the slippery driveway. The four wheel drive of our Durango dredges through the snow with ease, and I relax as we head toward the ski shop. I take in the sites of our magical Christmastown while the rest of my family chats about what their ski plan is for the day. With at least a foot of snow on every rooftop we pass, I am reminded of little gingerbread houses with marshmallow roofs.

Before I know it, we have already found our favorite spot in the Lionshead Village parking deck, which is at the base of one of the three main faces of the mountain. We head through the deck, across the street, and through the village towards the ski shop. Quaint shops and restaurants line the cobblestone pathway through the village. We pass rosy-faced couples, families, and singles, young and old, of all colors, shapes, and sizes. Everyone is bundled up in colorful ski apparel, as they trot excitedly over the cobblestones in their ski or snowboard boots.

to be continued....

Looking Back, Looking Forward

Just as I knew it would, the last two and a half weeks have passed in what seemed to be a blink of an eye. Here's what I've been up to: worked all night, worked all night again, slept all day, shopped, cleaned the apartment, went to a surprise dinner and Nutracker show at the Fox, which actually moved me to tears, sister from Montana came to town, shopped some more, made a bunch of gingerbread, dressed up in ugly Christmas sweaters and drank a lot with old friends, drove to Canton for my favie's family get together: exchanged presents, ate delicious steak, drove to Roswell for my dad's side of the family get together: exchanged more presents, ate a whole bunch of melt-in-your-mouth crab legs, drove to Louisville, KY to visit my mom's half of the family: exchanged even more presents, ate some yummy Christmas ham, shopped some more, returned a few gifts that didn't work out, hiked to a waterfall and back, wished we could stay longer, drove back to Atlanta, had lunch with an old friend from high school and shopped some more, looked at some houses in Roswell, didn't find any winners yet, had dinner and drank several pitchers of Sweetwater with old high school and college friends, drove to Athens, dressed up in a 70's outfit, partied down Funkle Ester style, drank a lot more and danced till my feet were about crippled, almost froze to death, had breakfast in bed, drove back to Atlanta again, took a nap, watched the Sugar Bowl in good company, did a million loads of laundry, ate a delicious home-cooked meal, and checked out mortgage lender #3.

And that pretty much brings us to the current place and time: my apartment, my couch, 7:54pm. You would think I would be a little more exhausted after all that, but in the spirit of the new year of 2008, it seems that things are just getting started. Tomorrow we leave for our annual ski trip to Vail, CO with my dad. This year I am thoroughly looking forward to sailing along fresh powder trails, whizzing down the groomed ones, and a total body ass kicking, seeing as how the last real exercise I got was sometime in September.

After we return from Vail, I'll have about a week of sore muscle and bone recovery time before starting my new adventure at Piedmont Hospital. The good news is I've worked at Piedmont before, on this very same unit, and that I am finally leaving the dark side behind, as I will be back on day shift. The bad news is the same people that I didn't get along with so well when I worked there before are still there. But I think it will be better this time around since I already know what to expect from them.

Anyway, not getting along well with people at work is the least of my worries right now. A matter that has become much more pressing is finding a house to buy. More and more I have come to realize that our first house will certainly not be our perfect dream house. I think I already knew that though. The magic of buying a first house is more about owning something really worth owning. And the only thing that will make it perfect is the fact that it will be ours together. It will be some sort of combination between what we can afford, where we can afford it, and the things that are most important to us in a house and a neighborhood. It will probably be more modest than impressive, but it will be what makes us happy. I know it's out there. We just have to find it.