Patron Bottle Centerpieces

Maybe I've finally experienced that mental breakdown I've been entertaining for the past few months (read: years), but I feel like being positive, optimistic, and signing along with the chirping cicadas this evening.

You know it's mid-August when the cicadas kick up their evening symphony. I sit out on my deck and wonder where the heck this summer went. With all the stress of our situation, the house, Steve's job, my insanity, I think I missed a large chunk of summer. Then again, I usually quantify the success of my summer as directly proportionate to the number of hours I spend in the pool.

Which was not enough this summer, in case you were keeping count!

Anyway, I feel like I got over the hump of our stress. The last few days have been downright awful and I publicly thank Jack for holding things together long enough for me to fall apart each night. I can hold it together during the day, maintaining my polished, energetic exterior for about 12 hours. Then the facade would quickly crumble, leaving me a drippy, pathetic mess of a human. Yes, I know, I should have had greater faith and hope...but sometimes I think you have to tumble into the depths every now and then to gain a bit of perspective. I'm still uprooting those seeds of fear from my heart, but I have a feeling that's going to be a life-long pursuit (darnit! Can't I just wrap a set of pliers around that weed and yank it out?!)

Whatever the case, something in my gut of guts tells me the worst is over. I'm learning to trust my gut at work; it's yet to steer me wrong (thank you, Nexium!). So I believe my gut instinct here, that the worst is over. And it is. It just is.

For one, we received an email from our realtor (whom, from here on out, shall be called "Angel") that we should close on the house around September 1 (or Labor Day, at the latest). This means we should get to close and be rid of that stinkin' property for good soon. I love that house, it served us well for a home, but we said our goodbye's and it's time for it to serve as another's home.

Jack's job search is still progressing and we're still discerning (ugh, I hate discernment!) what his path will be. He has a four-fold path in front of him...work full-time, work and do school, do school full-time, or fly down to the Bahamas and start picking out land for our Island B&B. It will be named "The Banana Hammock" (I guess we're catering to gay men in Speedos!). And the boat you can rent while you stay at the island B&B will be called "The Ashleigh Caitlin."

That's what we were going to name our firstborn girl. I think it sounds better as a boat name, too!

Anyway, despite the fact that many things still uncertain and unsettled, Jack and I have managed to find a bit of peace.

I have a light day tomorrow, meeting-wise, and hope to make progress on the nine departmental budgets I have to prepare. I have to weed through a year's worth of expenditures to figure out the expectations for 2011. And then on Saturday, I am hosting my first physician party! It's a Margarita Mixer (haha, I kill me). The residents wanted a happy hour. I vetoed that and instead scheduled a lunch WITH margaritas served. It started out with about 10 Internal Medicine residents (from our graduate medical education program) and about 6 administrators. Sixteen was a nice number! But it has since grown to 65 attendees, including most of Administration, 35 interns/residents, about 10 attending physicians (including gastroenterology, cardiology, critical care, and pulmonology!), several professors, a few recent medical school grads, and even the dean of the medical school. The hosting restaurant is creating center pieces of constructed out of Patron bottles.

And they promised me a center piece to take home, to commemorate the first physician party I planned. Now that's a conversion topic!