The time I fell

Sure, I told Marianna that I loved you and would marry you before we officially met. I just knew (but, I also knew that I would make Matt Damon fall in love with me so I'm not sure of my accuracy...).

But, the moment that I ABSOLUTELY fell in love with you is probably not what you would expect. But, this relationship has had quite a few unexpected surprises (*gifts?) along the way.

I had just started working as an ICU RN among the wolf pack. I remember that day like no other. I remember the pit in my stomach as one she-wolf had her teeth out in full force. She never liked me...sometimes I think it is really because she liked you. But I had you and I hadn't yet realized what exactly it was I had.

I came home to you, though, we were not quite "living together." You saw the tears in my eyes and said nothing at all. You just pulled me into your arms and whispered, "everything will be alright." And my insides melted....because I believed you. That's when it happened.

Like a message from above

I recently received an email from my next clinical rotation site. It contained explicit information about what is to be expected from me in my next three months. And it was looooong and detailed. I should be terrified. I'm not. It was like a message from God, himself (or herself/itself/itselves...whatever...I'm not a hater) telling me to hold on for two more weeks.

Thanks God (Buddah/Allah/etc)-I needed that!

Befriending a wildebeast

When I was a little girl, oh..probably kindergarten-ish or so, a woman approached my mother and asked her which child was hers. My mom pointed to me. The woman smiled and said, "Oh, she is lovely and so nice to everyone." I think that was my mother's shining moment.

Fast forward twenty-ish years and I feel like I am still that girl. I know I am. I try my best to be nice to everyone. And this has rewarded me with overwhelming joy but it has also blown up in my face from time to time.

Recently, I did something I felt was very nice and I honestly had no alterior motive. I thought I was truly helping a friend out of a sticky situation.

Side note: I have always felt the need to overcompensate and be too nice-it's really a fault. I don't know why I do this. I just want you to like me...you do like me, right?

Back on track-this nice deed blew up in my face so I told said person I could not longer do said nice task. Said friend must not really be a friend because me being nice (sans thank you for nice task...ever...) has turned into me being at eye level with Satan(or George W. Bush-you pick). Like I have said before, there are two sides to every story-obviously this is my blog (MINE MINE MINE) and if you are reading this you are probably either my friend or a complete stranger. Naturally, either of those would lead you to be on my side. Strangers love me.

However, I did not feel regret for loosing this friend. I felt....RELIEF. Sweet relief. I no longer feel like I have to tip toe said person.

I lost a friend but I gained Teflon. Let it slide off baby, let it slide.

In one week

I miss those blue eyes
How you kiss me at night
I miss the way we sleep
Like there's no sunrise
Like the taste of your smile
I miss the way we breathe-Colbie Caillat

The sun streams through the windows and I fight the sleep out of my eyes. I turn to look at you, still sleeping. You're smiling in your sleep. I gently touch a soft curl on your forehead. So many emotions, mainly pure joy, surge through my being. They come to a head and my eyes overflow with tears. I quickly bat them away because I know that still after four years, "womanly" emotions still make you skiddish. You murmur something in audible and pull me in closer. And my heart is happy.

Warning: Being Bitter Gives You Wrinkles

Author note: Unfortunately for me, my learning curve involves doing things the "hard way." Luckily, I usually only get burned once until my little synapses say-"Hey lady, WTF?! That's HOT!"


While I understand that I am a 25 year old dorm dweller, I didn't understand that I would also return to the land of dorm politics. For those of you not lucky enough to experience these the first go around, let me refresh your memory:

1. Home sick and whiny.
2. Unable to leave high school and all this entails
3. New found freedom
4. Lonely in a new city
5. Dumb, dumber, and what the hell were you thinking?
6. Common sense and nonsense

While these seem like apt titles to any teen angst drama, they are currently my quarter life situation. I own up to two on the list-home sick and whiny and lonely in a new city. I feel like I got shit on by number 2. Oh dear Internet, I knew I was coming to Tampa, but I never saw a sign that said I was going back to high school politics. By this, I mean the mean girls club.

Allow me to digress for a moment, I have had plenty of experience with the mean girls club. I was a brand new nurse entering into the world of intensive care. Those girls are mean. Why? I don't know. I think it is equivalent to one part hazing, one part jealousy that the new blond nurse was also shacking up with the hot pharmacist, and one part bitterness in their own lives. Not to mention the additional flack I got for getting into CRNA school. Apparently, education is like anthrax to the mean girls club. And of course, there was always the mean girls club when I was actually in high school. But I block those memories like a bad dream.

I am now officially back in high school. Living in a little house with other girls is like being in high school. There is back stabbing, whispering, and secret meetings. Naturally, rumors are spread and claws are out.

I consider it my uphill battle towards better karma. I try not to be bitter (*see wrinkle comment above). If I have anything to be bitter about, it is having my heart torn in half and thrown all the way from Tampa to Phoenix. Currently, my IPOD mix consists of a repeating thread of Colby Callait's "I Miss Everything About You," and Heart's "All I Want To Do Is Make Love To You." Slightly masochistic, slightly soothing.

Rise above....rise above...

Hopping on the Soapbox

Dear World,

I realize that with any profession you have the good, bad, and the ugly. Of course I know the same is true for anesthesia but this is my blog and my side of the story...

I was getting ready to induce a patient for anesthesia when a tall, geekey, MDA (MD-Anesthesia), walked over and started to tell me where to put the EKG leads.

#1-I have done more EKGs (12 leads, 5 lead monitoring, 3 lead monitoring) in one month than this man will his entire life. I worked in CVICU for SIX YEARS.
#2-I am not your assistant. While I may be a student...I am an anesthetist too.

WORLD hear me-there is NO difference in the anesthesia you recieve from an MDA or an anesthetist. We are held accountable to the exact same standards of care. If anything, your anesthetist is held to HIGHER standards-we must get better GPAs in school, the admissions process is more rigorous, and we can never fail a class...ever. If this guy fails in med school, he has the oppurtunity to make the class up or slide by with a barely passing grade. Your anesthetists can never fail and must maintain better than a B average to pass...hmm...how does that make you feel? (*Author's note...I don't know this guy's past...I just know his presence stinks)

I wanted to whip him with the cord (or wrap it around his neck) but he has a limp, and I didn't want people to think I picked on the less fortunate. Because I don't...

Yesterday working with this man (whose claim to fame is "CRNAs: can't live with them or without them"...wanker...) reinforced my decision to return to an opt out state...that would be you New Mexico. I refuse to think that this journey (total of 8 years) is going to lead me to any where but independent practice. That is the goal and the idea behind this profession. I am confident in what I do and I love doing it.

The Imperfect Day

It had all the makings of a perfect day: ocean breeze, windows rolled down with the stereo blasting, and toes in the warm ocean tide. As I walked along the shores edge, talking to you on my phone, I wanted to try and crawl inside it's tiny plastic to be near you. I would do ANYTHING to be near you right now. It had all the makings of a perfect day, but my perfect day was imperfect 2,300 miles away from where I truly am ALL the time-with you.

24 year old dorm dweller

Author's note: I'm a bad blogger. But since I'm more of a blog stalker* than a blogger, I'll forgive myself and my two followers. Hopefully this number will increase as I get more interesting.

I will yet again become a dorm dweller. My first experience with dorm rooms can be traced back to yester-year 2003. A scorching August day in New Mexico, you could find me hauling a TV up the flight of stairs in Laguna deVargas to be met by a bubbley, blond, gorgeous cheerleader. I was sporting a limp pony tail and was drenched in sweat. Nice...
...I hated her. Perfect, perky, and bringing designer dorm ware to our suite. I sneered at my mismatched, hand-me-down XL twin set.

Next week I will be a bridesmaid in her wedding. She was the MOH in mine. BFF...but that's a story for a different day.

My return to the dorms is not voluntary. Instead, I feel like I have been exiled to Tampa, Florida. Florida, you say? Florida was supposed to be the fountain of youth...the tropics of the United States. But Florida is missing my wonderful husband...

Okay, I'll admit to the melodrama. Here is the story: unfortunately, Phoenix lacks CRNA training sites because the anesthesiologists are dominating the field. This is a whole other story that I will hop on the soapbox later. But for now, this is my situation and in spite of my bitter, whiny, and sometimes childlike attitude, it is reality that I will face.

The reality is actually an amazing opportunity. I will be a student at one of the largest trauma facilities in the country...the world maybe! They do the kind of surgeries you only see on those wild, wacky, out of this world shows on Discovery Health. I will be doing those kinds of surgeries! Well, not personally, because blood and guts freak me out. I will be comfortably perched behind a drape praying that the blood and guts stay internally tucked in where they belong.

Florida is VERY CRNA friendly** and it will be an amazing opportunity.

I feel like my life has done a 180. A year ago, I was homeless, jobless, and found myself in a new city. 365 days later, I'm jobless and finding myself in another new city in spite of setting some pretty deep roots in Phoenix.

I just pray that I don't accidentally send sexts to the wrong person. I'll apologize in advance now.


*I don't identify with the term "stalker." To me, this implies felony...and I don't accessorize well with steel.
**Allegedly

Crushing dreams and taking names

I'm not opposed to the crushing of all dreams, per say...just the bad ones. Unfortunately for me, those are usually my dreams. Case in point-my recent endeavour to run a half marathon. I have lied to you (*and if I don't personally know you, I'm not the best of liars but will do it from time to time). I have lied to you by letting you think I'm an uber runner. The truth, whole truth, and nothing but it-I DO enjoy to run but uber isn't a word to describe me. Unless you are talking about cupcakes. Then it fits...well....mmm..cupcakes....

Anyway (wiping drool), the REAL reason why I got into running (*besides words like "chubby" from someone who may or may not remain nameless) is because my 16-year-old-not-chubby-in-my-own-mind-self was in love with a boy. A boy who did cross country. Note: I did not join cross country to lose the chub I wasn't aware I had, but rather to spend time with said boy.

At first, it began with 10 minute jogs that left my breathless and covered in sweat. Not attractive, especially for someone trying to attract the opposite sex. But, the sweat dried up and I began to get better (*long process). The better I got, the more attention I got. Not from said boy who ended up being gay (*that's a whole other psyche ruiner), but from everyone else. My fit physique got me noticed. By other boys that were straight. So I continue to run and continue to "enjoy" it- 75% of the time...

Well, this "enjoyment" leads me to the challenge extended of a half marathon. I've done 5Ks up the yin yang and even thrown in a couple of 15Ks-so what's a couple more miles?!

Set the scene now 8 years after my cross country debut:

Morning of 1/2 marathon is a gorgeous spring in the winter Phoenix day. Thousands of people are gathered to run and thousands more are the cheerleaders. Even John McCain was there (*don't get me started)! The first few miles (6 to be exact) were what I remembered from the cross country days of my youth-easy, feet floating, enjoying the crowd. I look at my watch and am pleased with my athletic self. Cupcake who, I'm a bad ass! Well, that is until mile nine. The stomach turned (*medical professionals should read ischemic bowel) and the feet gained all the weight. I managed to drag my ass the rest of the way there. At mile 12, people cheered for me (*and or the other 24,000 participants) and told me the finish was just around the corner. Liars-I HATE you all. As I crawled to the finish (*crawled=10+ minute miles), I reached Aaron and my mom but then regained by speed as I ran to the port-o-potty (*sub 8 minute mile time, I'm sure). Needless to say, my belly would rather be full of cupcakes than ischemic for two hours.

I survived and you can't take it away from me....but I'm going to crush your dreams, right now. If words like ischemic and bowel won't scare you off from running, this will...look at the horror in my dogs face (*Author's note-I got a new dog!!! Isn't he adorable?!).

(**Author's note-I don't believe I was chubby, but I've ALWAYS believed that I have ugly feet, don't judge me)

Rugby the wonderdog

I lead a charmed life. I have an unusually attractive dog. It isn't bragging, it is a fact. People take pictures of him when we are out and about on their cell phones.

How much do you think I could pimp him out to Hollywood for?

Magic and or this big glass of wine

Fitting that it's Christmas time...

When I was a little girl, I believed in magic. From the "reindeer prints" on our snowy lawn in Montana (probably the rabid dog that later attacked my Mom) to my Dad's Santa sighting. "He had blue eyes, just like me," he cackled. Bastard.

I think my husband* believes in magic too. He thinks that magic elves clean his house and wash his clothes. (Spoiler alert-there ain't no damned elves, its ME, his wife).

While Phoenix isn't quite the winter wonderland of the movies, I can't help but feel just the slightest bit of superiority wearing shorts in December. You can kindly remind me of this superiority in July...

At any rate, magic! Yes, this is something I think I possess.

Example:
In anesthesia we call this correlational.

You waking up after anesthesia is directly proportional to my skills and or grade point average in CRNA school.

That's not magic, you say! But it is. Because as for as many times as I stare at the words in my text books, I always doubt that it is sinking in. My heart races and my hands sweat when it is time to take a test. My husband, helpfully, refers to this (test taking) as a "celebration of my knowledge." Rip off, if you ask me, because it never ends in cake.

Back on track, though, for as much as I believe my brain is a bunch of rats running in opposite directions, the words in my book magically appear at test time.

My SRNA (Student Registered Nurse Anesthetist!) friend Matt is a quiet genius. He is a laid back guy who you bowl and drink with but wouldn't necessarily peg for "Einstein." But, when that boy opens his mouth, pure insanity! I recently asked, him to what he attributes it to:

"I drink so I kill all the stupid brain cells so only the smart ones are left."

Well, cheers to you Matt! Cheers to Happy Holidays!, health, love, and my test-anxiety induced photographic memory!

But most importantly, cheers to my gorgeous, Greek God of a husband! Cheers to today, as it has been three lovely years of togetherness. I love you more and more and more....


*Author's note, I love my husband more than life and am grateful he works tirelessly so I can go back to school...and eat at the same time.

Keep those neurons firing my friends

Since this blog was intended to be a following of me in CRNA school, maybe I should blog about that, huh? Here are a few pointers for any one considering CRNA school or graduate school in general.

1. When people tell you that graduate school is hard, they probably aren't lying. I thought they were; I laughed at them. And now, I often find myself in tears because it IS hard. But, it is well worth it. Graduate school is not for the faint of heart, those who don't want a challenge, and those who do not work well under stress.

2. I didn't study as an undergrad but was sure that I could "wing it." HA!! My new stance on studying (and my test grades are directly correlated) is to get a tutor if available (these are people who passed the class with flying colors, let them lead you!), don't just fumble through your notes and read the books. What has been effective for me and 95% of my class (the other 5% is a guy who just sits in the corner...not sure how he is doing), is writing possible test questions from your notes. Ex: Red crayons are made from wax. What are red crayons made from? What color of crayons are made from wax? ETC. Don't laugh. It WORKS! On one test, I did this for every subject header, reviewed it once or so and to my own surprise, got a 100%! My husband then put up my grade on the fridge, it was GREAT!

3. School is great, advancing your career is great, but FAMILY is #1. I make time for my husband every day. Dinner is not interuptable. We also make time for something fun each week. Individuals in my class are experiencing increasing amounts of marital stress because they put school first. One guy looked at me baffled when I suggested he put down the book and take his wife on a date (*and I offered to babysit even!). When all is said and done, none of "this" is going to be worth it if you are alone during your graduation ceremony. I am going to CRNA school to improve the quality of life for my family. Definitely not because I like to study a lot.

4. Take time for yourself. Every day. Seriously. Or you WILL go crazy.

5. Your classmates are your allies. Divide up the work load. With a few friends, I divide up the notes to make practice questions with. It helps with your sanity and it works to your studying advantage. I have encountered an individual or two who just wants to get their grubby little hands on my test questions. In that instance, kindly reply that the file they are contained in is "too large to email, sorry."

6. Don't isolate yourself from your family or friends if you have moved away. Love Facebook! Don't get your feelings hurt if life moves on without you, because you are creating your own, great new life too.

7. Don't be nervous. Obviously if after a lengthy application process they picked YOU, you have got the goods!

8. Don't be discouraged if you don't get in right away. The "waiting list" is your friend. If you happen to get the latter letter, kindly write a respectful, formal thank you to the interview committee and hope for the best!

9. Good luck and feel free to message me with questions!

Nostalgia and angst from Arizona

Burque.

I started my adult life there. As soon as the dorm doors closed behind me, I was on my own in a new city. Though, as I made the trek back to Colorado, I was still overwhelmed by a sense of "home" crossing that border. The sky is blue-er in Colorado, I told (tell) myself. Sort of like the grass is greener but a more measurable fact.

However, I have recently had a change of heart. Roasting green chilies in the backyard of our Arizona house (*author's note, I did not write "home" as I still consider our old house my "home"), the smells are foreign. The green chili does not waft in the air the same way and I feel like this is a sad event.

I resisted everything about Albuquerque at first. I talked to my friends about my escape back to Colorado or any where else. Now, I sit in my beautiful Arizona house, with all the amenities in close reach, perfect sunsets and I dream about the day I can hold a Satellite cup and people watch in Nob Hill. I met and married Aaron there, started my career there, met the best of friends, and created a life for myself.

I know you can never go back but a girl can dream. Here's to you Albuquerque.

To infinity and beyond

It is often said that it is love that makes the world go round. However, without doubt, it is friendship which keeps our spinning existence on an even keel. True friendship provides so many of the essentials for a happy life-it is the foundation on which to build an enduring relationship, it is the mortar which bonds us together in harmony, and it is the calm, warm protection we sometimes need when the world outside seems cold and chaotic. True friendship holds a mirror to our foibles and failings, without destroying our sense of worthiness. True friendship nurtures our hopes, supports us in our disappointments, and encourages us to grow to our best potential.-from my wedding vows, September 5, 2008

Dear husband,

There were manic style meltdowns, bumps in the road, and rings of fire I made you jump through...

...but when the doors opened, I heard nothing and saw nothing except you at the end of the aisle. Happy one year anniversary! I love you to infinity and beyond.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love

Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other's cup, but drink not from one cup.

Give one another of your bread, but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous,but let each one of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping;

For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together yet not too near together;

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

A hobby is only fun if you have time to do it...

"A man practices the art of adventure when he breaks the chain of routine and renews his life through reading new books, traveling to new places, making new friends, taking up new hobbies and adopting new viewpoints."

Things I did over summer break:

I learned how to golf (loose association with term!)

(*gasp, read a non-anesthesia book!)

and then I read anesthesia books...it's a sickness similar in a nature to anxiety-induced sweaty hands and cupcake addiction.

All work and no fun makes Morgan a very dull girl...

I roll down the windows and let the fresh air wash over my face. Cold is a feeling I haven't felt for a while and I welcome it like an old friend. Aaron and I enjoy the fact that there is nothing we have to do, except be with each other and enjoy nature. We have accomplished so much in the past few months that the only thing we must now accomplish is building the perfect s'more.

one ninth

1. 0.1 repeater
2. the number Lambda
3. "Why pay for employed by private corporations, when you can get the same cowboy antics at one-ninth the price?"
4."Only seeing one ninth and feeling there is more to the story."
5. Halphen constant
6. "one-ninth of dreams come true"
7. "one-ninth, poignant and hopeful"
8. a simple fraction
9. The amount of CRNA school I am done with

All work and no fun makes Morgan a very dull girl

Things I like to do outside of CRNA school



1. Think about CRNA school

2. Do board review practice question with Aaron

3. See how long I can run in the heat before feeling dizzy (max 30 minutes in July)

4. Stalk all of my future places of employment

5. Gain motivation from gaswork.com

6. Paint my bathroom horrendous colors, tell everybody how "ugly" it looks, and be honestly offended when people agree (and when my grandmother gives me money to repaint)

7. Scratch Rugby's belly

8. Explore the great state of Arizona

9. Dance in my kitchen to Flo Rida

10. Day dream with my husband about our charmed life :)



Things I didn't know about CRNA school and about myself

1. It is REALLY hard and you REALLY do study for 12 hours a day. It is a full time job and a half.

2. I always thought of my self as "ambitious" but not to this extent. I get up at 5am and go to bed at 11pm. All in the name of school. And I can't not do it.

Our Life In Suburia...Part 1

Our new neighborhood in Peoria

The front of our house.

I still can't figure out why he scares people...

den

front entrance

living/dining room (table not delivered yet)

kitchen

master bedroom

master bathroom

master bedroom looking into bathroom

guest bedroom (*wink)

laundry room

I wonder what Barbie would think about CRNA school**

**When I was a little girl, Mattel made a Barbie with a pull-cord back. She said many phrases, but my favorite was, "Math is hard." She was immediately removed from the shelves...

Our new neighborhood reminds me of being a small town girl during the Colorado summers, I think, as the rain hits my face. Kids ride their bikes at night in the streets, racing through the sprinklers without a care in the world. Rugby and I venture out to explore our new territory. The breeze leaves the air fresh and I get a whiff of far off farm animals and it brings me peace. The normalcy of home life grounds me as hard as if I were to be wearing cement shoes. Lately, my mind takes me to far off places, dreams of glycolysis, memorizing innvervation patterns in the showers, and calculating vapor pressures over dinner. I find myself daily manically scrub my new counter tops, “for a sense of control,” my friend and classmate finishes my thought. She looks at me with empathetic and tired eyes. I was so non-chalant about CRNA school. Sure, it’s hard for you, but not for me. If I only knew…
…They don’t tell you how often or how easily you will cry, I think. School brought a big, burly guy in my class to tears today. He arrived to our test late and was barely let in the testing center. I felt my eyes well with sympathy tears thinking about all the hours I spent in the library, about 25 for a 45 question test. No doubt, it is a coincidence that they don’t tell you, you will probably cry…a lot. However, during the monthly “pep talks” by the dean, I hear words like “intubation,” “Swan-Ganz” and “no I have NEVER done a pudendal block” and my heart is a flutter again.

Life in Oz...

Instead of closing my eyes to take another calming deep breath, I close my eyes, breath out, and click my heels together. There is NO place like home. After 52 days in an extended stay hotel (I mean, I KNOW it says "extended stay" but gimme a break!), Aaron and I will be heading to our new home in Peoria. While, I 'liked' the other house we "bought," there is no real comparison to our new house. It is a home. And that is what we are shooting for. Aaron and I chose to build our life together in Arizona, now we can begin the next chapter!

Motivational Speech, Part 1

One of the first things you will hear as a graduate student is, "Don't worry when you fail your first test." I was told this by doctors as I left the Heart Hospital and by upper class men at Midwestern. When the doctor at the Heart Hospital told me this, one of the nurses turned to me and with an icy glare sarcastically said, "Not Morgan, she would never fail." I knew from past experience and from her tone that nothing would make her happier than for me to fall on my face. So, I spent two weekends straight in the library. I got up early and stayed up late (okay, late for me!). And I held my breath while I waited for those test results...I passed. With great scores. Moral of the story, never let anybody tell you that you will fail. Because if you believe it, they win. I have never worked this hard for anything in my life...but I have never wanted anything more. Life is looking up for the Morrow's.

:)

day 30, breakdown 2 and the letter that ruined my life..

I squeeze my eye lids together so tight that it hurts. "You make your own luck," I repeat over and over to myself trying to integrate it into my mantra list. But, as I learned today, sometimes one door closes so two doors can open (I think there is a law in physics for that too that I need to memorize by Thursday!). I imagine that I am one of those inflatable punching bags. The kind that you hit as hard as you can, but that keep popping back up no matter what.

The story:

I'm sitting in Biophysics today, surprised at how much I actually like physics. But suddenly, the small town feeling washes over me. I attribute this anxiety to the fact that today is the ABSOLUTE deadline for the bank. I have glimmers of hope rolled into threads of impending doom. So, I shoot my realtor a text message on my way to lunch.

(*actual text)

Hey Elise, has Analissa called yet? I'm getting some mega anxiety about the house. Morgan Morrow

Approximately five minutes later I get a phone call:

"Morgan, it's Elise. So, I have some bad news. The bank is refusing to handle your file because they are mad about a letter. Did you send a letter?"

Me:

"Yes, I sent an email to the advocacy department about three weeks ago but never heard back."

Elise:

"Well, they got the email and are pissed."

I'll spare you readers and paraphrase the rest of the conversation. Basically, my realtor claims an email I sent to Countrywide made them so upset, they refuse to deal with our file. My thought-seriously? How can one tiny, insignificant email tip the boat? Get my a life preserver because I off the ship.

I'm M-A-D:

1. I'm signing your paycheck realtor-why are you yelling at me?

2. An email CANNOT be the straw that broke the camel's back...what's really up? SHADY

3. See number one, SERIOUSLY!

So, Aaron and I are holding a family meeting to decide how we are going to proceed. I'm done. First, with our realtor for being so accusatory and disrespectful. Secondly, we've been dealing with this headache since February. As my nursing friends can attest,"dead meat don't beat."

Here is the email I wrote. What do you think? Was I overstepping my bounds (I already know the answer to that but reinforcement is always helpful).

Keep us in your thoughts. Through my morning runs, I have found a really CUTE neighborhood and some houses for sale. We are calling a new realtor that comes with the highest of recommendations from our new CRNA friends.

To Whom It May Concern,

I am writing this letter as a plee to help end my current situation. My husband and I moved to Glendale, AZ so I could continue my education in the health care field. We chose Arizona over our other options because we were able to buy a house here. On March 1, we made a reasonable, fair market offer on a house and on March 1, the seller accepted this offer. Since then, we have run into a variety of hurdles. Every time we have contacted our realtor for more information about our house, we hear the words "no update." My husband and I have since had to vacate our other home to move to Arizona. We are currently living in a hotel with our cat and Boxer. This is a very undesirable situation, as you could image. I have pleeded with our realtor many times to push our offer into a closing without much help. I have called Countrywide but I do not have the account number on the mortgage. I would appreciate any help I could get. This is the first house I have ever bought and I am so excited to finally have something that is my own.

The house in question is:

**********
Glendale, AZ
85310

and the seller's name is ********. I pray that this email reaches someone that can assist me to finally close on this house.

Thank you for taking the time to hear my story.

Morgan Morrow

**name/address obviously changed because I feel bad for the seller. He will foreclose his home if this doesn't go through.

Word to the wise:

Short sale=not short. Unless short means painful and long.

My realtor=would NEVER recommend her (so if you move to Phoenix-call me and I'll tell you who she is)

Day 2, breakdown 1 and other stories

Scene 2, Act 1:
Women enters dog park with unusually attractive, rare, white boxer. Boxer proceeds to sniff around the dark park, peeing on all his usual spots. Women happily sips grande non-fat latte from Starbucks, soaks up the sunshine, tries to digest the monumental task of CRNA school, and reviews yesterday in her head (see below story). Enter Doberman puppy. Puppy bites Boxer. Boxer enjoys attention and chases puppy. Puppy does not seem to mind. (*IMPORTANT AUTHOR NOTE, Boxer NEVER bit or jumped on puppy and puppy never yelped!) Enter, puppy owner. Puppy owner (in a criticizing voice with bitchy overtones) to woman sipping latte, "Why do you always bring your dog here when he acts like that?" Puzzled, woman sipping latte feels the heat rise to her face, making her tomato-like. Puppy owner gathers puppy in a hurried manner and exits. Boxer runs to labs playing fetch. Lab owner, "I don't want your dog playing with mine if he is aggressive." Woman sipping latte feels tomato face in its full effect and is now getting "small town feeling." Latte woman gathers Boxer. Exit dog park. Woman enters car. Convulsive, messy breakdown.

(The previous day)

Scene 1, Act 1:
Monday morning approaches and so approaches my excitement. It is FINALLY our "absolute deadline" imposed by the bank to come to a complete/final decision regarding our home here. I give the realtor my cell phone number, email address, and complete day schedule so she can call me the MOMENT we get the GREEN LIGHT. Five o'clock....no call...I call the realtor. Voicemail. Leave a detailed message instructing her to call me. Get a return call approximately 1 hour later:

"The bank decided to make their thirty day deadline, thirty BUSINESS days."

Mini-meltdown followed but no tears...yet...small town feeling begins.

Scene 2, Act 1.

Amidst all of our chaos, Aaron and I decide to take a break and enjoy a WNBA game. I give Rugby and good scratch while Olivia rubs up against my leg. This usually means she feels left out so I also give her a pet and we head out the door. (*Author's note-Olivia is our cat). Aaron and I get in the car and begin to head towards down town Phoenix. About two exits into the trip, I smell something out of the ordinary (or as my dad would say, "I got a wiff of jiff!"). I sniff around my clothes (we did start working out again and it's HOT here!). Nothing. I sniff around Aaron. Nothing. The smell passes. Five minutes later, I get another wiff. What the heck? I roll down the window and frantically scan the car when I look down at my leg. Olivia rubbed up against me and sharted on me. We pull of on the first exit so I can stick my whole leg in the sink at Jack-In-The-Box and scrub it. I guess she was mad that she and Rugby have to share such close quarters. Life lesson: just when you think that you have hit rock bottom, you get pooped on. It happens! So don't take yourself so serious because, it is really rather funny.

Current Scene:

1. Lightbulb clicking for CRNA school but am overwhelmed by the volume of information I am supposed to be digesting. Luckily, the CRNA Class of 2011 is made up of the most bright, supportive, and generous people I have ever met. And for a bunch of ICU nurses, not one person comes across as bitchy or competitive (and for anyone who doesn't know what the ICU RN stereotype is, they are not the nicest people!!). Side note, CRNA school currently consists of

• Journal club-Morgan will soon become a published (!!) author. Will keep you updated with that.
• Biophysics-who knew "math really ISN'T that hard Barbie!"
• Anatomy-what is this little insignificant fiber next to this big blob. Name all of these for every body part. (Eek!)
• Biochemistry-name very amino acid ever and what is does this and that.

p.s. I have a name badge that says Nurse Anesthestist (student) and I have a tee shirt...

2. While my head can now completely rotates around its axis (i.e. "Exorcist"), Aaron and I are still "patiently" waiting for an answer on our house. Although, this week we began looking for other houses and making empty threats towards the realtors. Basically, whatever house we can get into first will be our house but all arrows point to "our" house right now. Everyone that knows me knows patience is not my strong suit so this is a very large lesson in humility. We are going on week three of living in a studio with the dog and the cat...
3. I am married to the most wonderful and supportive man on the face of this planet. People in my class are already having "marital" issues regarding the time CRNA school consumes. Aaron and I are stronger. He quizzes me on my homework and is generally interested in how CRNA school works. On days he is off, I come home (or the hotel rather) to dinner and a back massage. Absence is making my heart grow fonder. And I've been gone a lot.
4. Rugby and I no longer go to the dog park. I hate the dog park. I hate the dog park people. They are just dogs! Dogs jump on each other and chase each other. And I would advise you to seek Psychiatric attention if you worry about your dog's psyche. Rugby's brain is pea sized (he jumped out of the car window in rush hour traffic mind you!). No room for thought processing greater than pooping, eating, chasing the bunnies in the arroyo, and belly rubs. Rugby and I now go to Thunderbird park to hike where we frequently get stopped by people oohing and ahhing over him. The little ham loves it.
5. The most recent deadline for the house is the 22nd. Aaron and I are making pretty substantial (but honestly hollow) threats to get something in writing. You will be the first to know what those results are.
6. Morgan+weekends Aaron works=mega cram time, this is one of those weekends so I better finish planting my face in Biochemistry.

You are now up to full speed!

What to do when you have nothing to do...

"But its a dry heat," my Dad adds helpfully to end his phone call. Great, I think as I peer down at the truck's thermometer. 91 degrees and climbing. That probably explains this nagging cough I have developed since crossing the border. For now, I say, adios New Mexico as I check out my new surrounds. The recent rains have left a blanket of lush green surroundings. The journey here has been a long, bumpy road. Literally and figuratively speaking. It's hard to make the miles blur when the moving truck can only go 60 miles per hour. All the other cars fly by and curiously peer at us, wondering why we can't do the same. Fear, safely, and general exhaustion is our answer. We drive to our house but cannot unpack our things. Bank delay. It had been too easy to obtain a new home in a desired area. And for the girl who is used to getting her way, this is a good lesson in patience. I close my eyes and remind myself, "you create your own luck."