Honest to Golf

The truth? Ugh, I’m no good.

I went out for the second time today with the padre. We were joined by my brother and his gf. She’s my buddy and not great either, but she definitely beat the crap out of me (we weren’t actually keeping score, but I know I did Not do good. Oh, no.).

I’m trying. Really reallyyyy trying. Golf is, um, reallyyy hard. Nobody warned me of this. I didn’t think it was super easy, but gaahhh.

My Dad is serving as my coach, it’s his natural tendency. He’s pretty darn good at this golf thing, so I’m taking the advice as it comes. But there’s just so damn much to think about. This is generally how my thoughts would read, before EACH swing (tee off, hit, chip, putt, whateeever)…..

“Watch the ball..”
“Use your hips, and rotate with your back…”
“Keep your shoulders straight….”
“Don’t swing with your hands…”
“Let your left hand pull through…”
“Keep your hands in front of the ball…”
“Left hand on top, wrap your right around”
“Visualize your swing…”
“Don’t swing too hard, let the club do the work…”
“Follow through in one line…”
“Swing down, hit the ball…not the dirt under the grass, or the air above it…”
“Aim with your feet and the rotation of your hips…”
“Push the weight off your right foot, and end with it on your left…”
“Don’t stand up while you swing, stay low, don’t lock your knees…”

Yes. I’m totally serious. I have learned that ALL of these things are what makes a golf swing good. Or great, if you’re lucky. Usually I’m not, but every once in a while I get this freak-beautiful-shot that goes into the air and sails right to where it’s supposed to be. Ah, what a feeling. Watching that stupid white round thing fly.

Don’t even get me started on the ‘putt’. It’s completely different. But I’m not too bad in that area.

I’m not giving up just yet, although I did “quit” a hole or two today. Ehhhh. Oops. I’m not proud of this, but ya know what? The course was busy and people were behind us and that stressesss me out. So, instead, I just picked up that little white ball and walked it up to the green. Things are much easier that way.

No, really though. I will keep going. I’ll get better. In the words of my very wise Padre, “You didn’t learn to play the piano by just doing scales. But you did have to start with them.” (in reference to why I need to go to a driving range so I can get used to my ’swing’). Gotcha’ Dad. You’re a good teacher, so I’ll keep practicing, and I’ll get there. I may not have your 12 handicap anytime soon…..the goal for now is just to hit the ball every time I swing. That’s not too much to ask, right? Ehhhh.

Days in the Hospital

Every day starts the same. But that’s where the ordinary stops. From there, it’s anyone’s guess….

I’ve been working in the hospital for about four weeks now, and I can easily say that each day has been dramatically different from the next. It definitely keeps things interesting, keeps me on my toes, and keeps me wondering what will happen next.

For a little update, here are some of the more “exciting” sitings–
(warning::you may be disgusted/scared/entertained/all of the above, or none of the above. just sayin’….)

• Jaundice. More commonly talked about as a condition that some babies have initially after birth. They are basically “yellow”. I never took that too literally….until I met Freddy*. He was a late admit on Friday, so I brought him a late dinner tray. He’s about 55+ years old, a little over weight, friendly, and staying on the fourth floor. Oh yah, and he’s yellow. Literally yellow. His arms, his face, the ‘whites’ of his eyes. Alllll over, he was a definite yellow.
  
• My sister’s first grade teacher. I ran into her in the hall, and she gave me a big ol’ hug. She lives in our neighborhood, so we have seen her off and on throughout the years. When Lauren and  I are together, she can tell us apart. When it’s just me, she always thinks I’m Lauren. I forget this. She talked to me for about 10 minutes, asking about school, life, my plans, blah blah blah. Then, as we’re saying ‘bye’, she smiles and says “Every time I think of you I think of your class and that cute Piggy Opera!”. Yes, they did a piggy opera, and Lauren was Momma-pig. I had a little laugh thinking of Lauren as the Momma-pig, and the fact that I will always be Lauren to people who don’t see us often. Oh well.
  
• Tuberculosis. Um, scarryyyyy. I had to put on a huge mask, ‘gown’ and gloves. I went into the room and pretty much held my breath. Which, by the way, is very hard to do while you’re trying to talk. Yup. And also when you are in there for like two minutes. Gaaasp. Good thing I had like Five tests to prove I don’t have it. Geeeeze.
• Cystic Fibrosis. This life expectancy of somebody with this disease ranges from about 25-30  yrs old. John* is a 20 yr-old with CF, spending way too much of his young life in the hospital. I screened him during my second week, and he just got discharged last Wednesday. I’m in charge of the meals on the fourth floor, and that’s where he stayed. By the end of Day 3 I had his breakfast, lunch, and dinner orders pretty much memorized. Sometimes he got tricky and threw me a curve-ball, sometimes he forgot to order his Cherry cheese-cake and I reminded him. To which he would respond “Whew, can’t believe I almost forgot! Thanks Heather, you saved my night “. Well, well, I do what I can.
  
• “OB orders.” That’s what we call a huuuuge meal. With our system, patients order what they want, when they want. We have a full menu every day. And I gotta say, it’s pretty extensive! We actually get a lot of compliments on the food. Except when people can only have Clear liquids. Anyway–sometimes people order a lot of food, and while we can only serve them one “Entree” (sorry folks, can’t feed the whole fam), they can order as manyyyyy sides/drinks/deserts as they want. And sometimes, they certainly do.When somebody  has just had a baby, they are on the “OB” floor. And let me tell you, those women can EAT! Honestly, I am kind of amazed. I knew pregnant/post-labor women crave and eat loots of different things. But, wow. I love answering the phone and taking their order!… “Grilled chicken salad, with LOTS of Ranch, two iced teas, sugar, apple pie, tomato soup, crackers, french fries, and LOTS of ketchup, a banana, a wheat roll. And can I have some potato soup too? Thanks. Oh, and vanilla pudding, and ummmm, chocolate milk.”  Yes, that looks like a typical lunch/dinner order. Like I said….Wow. 

• Death. This one was inevitable, but I couldn’t help but hope that I’d never have to actually see it. Or at least not yet, not this summer. We’ve had two or three patients die in the last few weeks, we just get a call basically saying ‘You won’t need an order from room —, because the patient is deceased.” Uh, thanks for the update? It’s just weird. But it’s normal, and it happens. A lot.
  Yesterday, I walked in on it. An older man had just passed, literally minutes before I came to his room. The nurses hadn’t put up a sign yet, the door was open, and…well….I walked in.
  I knew right away. I froze. Turned to the nurse’s desk, opened my mouth, and before I could say anything…..”Yah, he just passed a few minutes ago.” Whoa. I guess there’s a first for everything.
  

Every day is different. Some go by really fast, some involve some really chatty people, some teach me a lot more than others, and some drag on and on. Every morning there are new patients, and every morning I go see them.  And they make my day.

*Names have been changed, gotta keep the confidentiality. And because, otherwise, I’d be fired. Not good.

The spoiled Haircut-ee

After some investigating, I found a new Salon here at home that has a good reputation (among the Madre’s friends). In need of a hair cut, I decided to check it out. I will say I was a little apprehensive, as we all know that I loooved (and to remind you…had a little crush on…) the guy who cut my hair at school. But, someday I have to move on. *sigh*

I got there a little bit early, and she took me in right on time. One point for the new girl (sidenote: it’s a little weird having a girl cut your hair after finally getting used to the guy…hmmm). While she washed my hair, she gave me a head massage. Uhhh….10 points! Here I am just trying not to fall asleep before I have to get up and move to a different chair. Soooo relaxing.

I tell her exactly what I want, she gets it. She goes to work. As she does different things, she gives me a little tutorial on why and what it will do for my hair. Kinda weird, nobody has ever explained technique to me. I don’t really care, as long as I don’t look like a chainsaw was taken to my head. But okay, interesting.

Things are generally going well. She did seem like she was kind of rushing it though. The Crush used to allot an hour for every appointment. He usually “cut” for about 30, dried, and then “polished up” for about 10. She cut for about 10-15, and then drops the bomb….

“Okay, I’m done with the cut for now, so I’m just going to stick you under the dryer and switch you out with her (other woman, who is currently ‘under the dryer’) and finish up her style really quick! Is that okay?!  Then I’ll finish your style. Alright!“

Umm, was any of that a question? Do I get a choice of being shoved into that scary dryer thing?? Nope, I sure don’t. Seriously, those things kinda freak me out. And they make your head reallyyy hot! Not cool. But the next thing I know I’m sitting underneath the heat wave, with my hair slowly drying, flipping through a Glamour magazine.

One question–what is the purpose of making an appointment, when you are just being ’switched out’ anyway?! Couldn’t I just walk in and say–

“Hi I’m here! So, whenever you are ready to dry that person’s hair I’ll just slip right in. Okay?!“

Gah. The only good thing was that I was flipping through a Glamour. The new one. Sweeet.

So once my hair is dry and she’s “ready” for me again, I hop back in the chair. She starts to finish drying my hair and using that big curly brush thing (SO scared of those. I always get my hair stuck in the little ones.). She starts styling it, which I do appreciate. When a guy cuts your hair you kind of skip this step, seeing as they don’t really “style”. Or at least, my crush didn’t. But I loved him anyway and my hair somehow always looked like he had styled it. Hmmm, maybe he was sneaky about it and I didn’t even realize he was doing it. Oooh! Never thought about that. Anyway! Mid-styling, her cell phone rings.

And she ANSWERS it.

Okay, I hate when stylists are ‘fitting me in’ along with somebody else. But guess what I hate even more? When they answer their f-ing cell phones. Guess who never did either of these things?? The crush.

Ugh, I am so spoiled.

In the end, my hair looks cute, the “style” is cute, and I did get a little head massage. She was super nice, and easy to talk to (important characteristic. Otherwise I feel very awkward just sitting in silence while somebody is in charge of how I will appear when I walk out….).

I’m totally satisfied, but just a little irritated. And left wondering….will I ever find somebody as wonderful as the Crush?

Apartment Searching

Alright, all you “real worlders” (aka, non-college-ers), I might need some advice.

As mentioned below, I finally found out where I’ll be living/learning/working next year. Which is awesome, and a huge relief, and *whoa*. For the first time in my life, I have to find an apartment, live with people I don’t really “know”, in a city that I’m totally unfamiliar with. And I’m SO exciteddddd.

I’ve done all of the above, just never all at once. I’ve lived in Orlando (internship), and had no idea where I was going for about a month. I knew how to get to and from work, and to and from Target (obviously). That’s about it. But I lived there with LB, and our apartments were provided. Oh, the good life.

I’ve lived with people I don’t know, but someone I did know was always there too (see above). In fact, we lived with 6 other “someones” that we didn’t know. 8 girls, 1 apartment. Yes, I’m crazy. But it turned out to be amazing, and I still love them and it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Not to say I’d do it again, if I don’t have to, but we live and we learn.

I’ve lived in an apartment for two years (also with LB, and Sally, and Em, hi!). However, I had nothing to do with the selection process. LB said “Hey we have an extra space, want to be our roommate?”, and I said (omg, YES YES YES) “Sure! That’d be awesome!”, and then I made sure that Em could come too. And that was settled. And two years later I refuse to accept that I have to move out in three weeks. We are not talking about that. Oh, college.

Anyway. Now I have to exit this “bubble” of a town and enter the real life. I’m searching for apartments online and hoping that the picture I see isn’t cropped to avoid displaying the rotting property next door, or shot from an angle that makes the “beautiful park in front” look spacious and inviting, instead of the 10 ft square of grass that it actually is.

No, I’m not actually that pessimistic about this process. But this is definitely quite the task to take on while finishing up classes, studying for finals, and packing (which we are not thinking about). Plus, I won’t be able to go down there to actually visit any of these places, which is also hard. Because I happen to be driving across the country in the other direction. Of course. Alas, on goes the apartment search!

Any advice, throw it out there. I’m all ears! (or reading eyes)

When your Apartment Floods…

…many unpleasant and unwanted situations will result.

Yesterday morning a pipe in the ceiling above our bathroom decided to burst. This left inches of water in our living room, one bedroom, and all over the bathroom. Luckily Crazy was home to take care of things! I can safely assume that I would have freaked out, ran down to the office and yelled at somebody. She chose the more logical path, teaching me a few things about how to handle a situation like this.

First, call somebody who can do something (i.e. the Maintenance people?). Then, take some action….

-Turn OFF the Power ( I never would’ve thought to do that….) to avoid being electrocuted. Nobody wants that. Especially when you are standing in water. Ehhh, not good.

-On that note, remove all electronic things from the floor! In this situation, that happened to be LB’s computer. Normally it is sitting happily on her desk, but on this particular morning it was in the living room from the night before. Problem. No worries though, Crazy is smart, and thought of that right away! Another reason that my apartment is lucky that I’m not the one who happened to be home…..

It’s also a good idea to unplug everything, because you won’t want to be doing that later while everything is wet.

-Do NOT try to use towels to soak up the water. Inches of water will win this battle every time.

-Remove all other valuable belongings from the floor, if possible.

Fortunately for us, the only things that got damaged were a few rolls of toilet paper. Lesson learned: don’t keep TP on the floor?

-Put on some rainboots, and head on down to the office to explain that your apartment is currently Flooding. Right Now.

They will say things like, “Why? What did you do?”
You will want to say things like, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”
Please refrain. Keep your cool. People don’t want to help you if you are mean.

We are currently living in 100000% humidity, with very loud fans and very wet carpet. FYI Maintenance people: the fans are not doing anything. We can’t open the windows, because it is Zero degrees outside, therefore the wet air is circulating and driving us crazy.

The only good thing to come of this so far has been eating dinner with the “fam” (all roomies) in the “Fun Zone” (aka LB’s room), because it’s so noisy in the living room that you can’t hear yourself think.

I came home from work and dinner was waiting for me, yummm! We all fixed ourselves a steak fajita and watched “That 70’s Show”. Good stuff.

We’ve got so far to Go

Sitting here at 1:21 in the morning after a l-o-n-g day, this is all I can think:

We’ve come so far, but we’ve got so far to go.

And I will admit, I am also thinking this because it’s the title of the song thats playing right now as the “Hairspray” soundtrack tunes fill my room…

Today was just one of those days. No “breaks”, no pausing, no relaxing. Just going, going, going. Not that those days are the bad ones, they are just the ones where everything you have gotten yourself into hits you at once. It’s a head-on collision with classes, work, assignments, tests, quizzes, group meetings, computers crashing, and Life. Usually this equation adds up to stress, this day being no exception.

This is the life of a senior in college. Despite your number of classes, jobs, groups, etc. you find your routine; just as you have in every previous semester. The only difference, the big difference, is that on top of all these things you have “Next year” to think about.

Where are you going after you graduate? What do you want to do with your major? What programs will you be applying to? What does your resume look like next to those who will be competing with you? What are you doing now to get where you want to be?

Ehhhhh.

I guess this is the time in our lives where we really need to “have our shit together”. This is where we reflect on every class and job, thinking about what we learned or whether it will look like “valuable work experience”. This is when we start hoping that we did things right for the past 4 years.

It’s funny to think about what those past 4 years look like when they aren’t viewed as a transcript & resume….

To me, these four years will be immortalized by a ridiculous number of pictures, old textbooks, class notes that I’ve kept for whatever reason (which will probably never be looked at again), an abundance of useless “household” things I’ve accumulated after living in 5 different dorms/apartments, a wardrobe that changes at least twice a year (but is still full of the shirts that are only worn twice a year), and a collection of sweatpants and t-shirts sporting the PennState love.

I’m sure that list could go on for a while, but you get the “gist” of it.

I guess it just comes as a realization that this year will be stressful, it will go fast, and it will test my patience and sanity.

On the other end of the spectrum, it will treat me right. I have my roommates, my best friends, football, bar specials left and right, and of course the classic “weekends that start on Thursday”.

It’s a four year party, and we’re at the last call. Not going anywhere soon.

these boots are made for Walkin’

…or puddle Jumpin’. Depending on the boot. Yesterday I wore my new rain-boots, or “Wellies” as those good ol’ Brits call them, for the first time.

Let’s just say I’m a little behind the times. Or say that I did not adapt to the East coast weather very quickly. The first afternoon that it rained my freshman year, I looked out the window and thought:
“Well, it’s not a very far walk to my class, and I don’t feel like carrying an umbrella. I probably won’t get too wet.”
Funny thing about living in the desert; you have no idea what a real afternoon-rain is. Following a five-minute walk to class, I was soaked. And cold. And shocked. Yet another thing I had to learn (can we add this to the list? Football, check. Rain etiquette, pending check). I finally figured out that if the weather even suggests that it may rain, bring an umbrella. It took me a little bit longer to adjust to wearing shoes that are weather appropriate, and to the fact that after walking around campus, the bottoms of your jeans (or any form of pants for that matter) soak up a lot of water. It also took me even longer to adjust to the idea that it can rain for an entire day. Nonstop. Pouring. Rain. Oh, my.

That’s not how things happen in the desert. Hello, East Coast.

After countless days of not expecting the rain but getting it, bringing an umbrella but still being soaked from the shoulders down, wearing flip-flops and slipping left and right, stepping in puddles that I couldn’t see, looking out the window and not seeing the rain but walking outside and Whoa there it is, and sitting in buildings waiting for it to stop and then realizing that it’s just not going to….I have rain-boots.

I should probably mention that even after 3 years of all this business, I didn’t even buy these boots for myself. That’s how stubborn I am. I received them via the U.S. Postal service on my 21st birthday. They were a gift from my younger sister (I love you, Lauren!). She came up here for her spring break last year, and what do you know, it rained most of the time. She saw Emily’s rain-boots, wore them, loved them, even took pictures in them. We desert-folk aren’t quite used to this fashion statement. Maybe I’ll bring it back West and get it started.

I guess Lauren recognized that clearly I needed these rain-boots. Not only because of the plethora of reasons listed above, but also because this is one fashion-trend that I had to get my hands on. Thanks baby, you’re always looking out for me!

110,078

110, 078: Number of people that filled the seats of Beaver Stadium Saturday night to watch the PennState Nittany Lions defeat Notre Dame!! It was the second largest crowd in Beaver Stadium history, and I was there.

Check This Out. We are…PennState baby! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ma8eNb-I9VE

Saturday marked a lot of “firsts”. First time attending a night-game at PennState. First ALL-STADIUM White Out (and ooooh, it was beautiful). First time standing for the entirity of every quarter (until that 4th one rolled around…dangit. In my defense, flip-flops are not appropriate footwear for standing endurance on metal bleachers, nope nope). First time attempting to sing the entire Alma Mater (it’s pretty long, who wrote that?). First time buying a bottle of water without having the cap removed (maybe students have stopped throwing water bottles? Agh, let’s hope so). And to that I should add, it was the First time that I’ve seen people in the stands selling water (yesssss, no more concession stand lines!). Nice job PennState, very much appreciated.

That could probably go on for a while, I’ll stop with that.

I did leave one “first” out. It was my First home game as a senior (whoa) in Beaver Stadium! Everything about that place amazes me. The size, the capacity, the crowd, and most importantly…the PennState PRIDE. I love it!
I also love when we sing “Hey Baby” before the start of the fourth quarter. That is somewhat unrelated, but I really like that song.

I’m still learning this whole football thing, but I must say, I’ve come a long way in 4 years. As a freshman, the only things I knew/understood about football included the following:

-Touchdowns are worth 6 points. Extra kick=extra point. Bringing the total to 7.

-When someone gets tackled with the ball, it’s time for another “down”.

-There are 4 “downs” before the ball goes to the next team.

-A yellow flag means somethin’s goin down. Or somebody messed up.

Yep, that’s it. Clearly, there was a lot to be learned. Thanks in large part to my dear friend Emily, and the patience of those around me, I now fully understand the game and most of it’s happenings (don’t worry, I won’t make another list of what I know now…that’s going a little too far). More importantly, I like watching football. Hmm, didn’t see that one coming. And I feel it is appropriate to add that thanks to Emily, once again, and Larisa, I am a huge Steelers fan. We had a little scare today when we were watching them play the Browns, where was Palomalu???? Don’t worry, we found him and his crazy hair. Whew.

I don’t own a terrible towel, maybe I should get on that.

Next on the schedule, Buffalo State. Saturday at noon. Let’s Go State!
(Why are we playing Buffalo State? I do not know.)

…and i’m confused

i have spent approximately 16 minutes thus far trying to figure out this blogging business.

things accomplished in these 16 minutes=

-changing my blog name and url to heatherdc (formerly hdiac, which I used because heatherc was taken…thought it would grow on me, but it didn’t…)

-signing in and out twice on accident.

-changing my template. But I think it’s back to the original one because it looks no different to me.

gah. lots of learning left to do.