Ah Christmas. So many traditions, so many memories! As I sit here, in the midst of finally decorating my apartment, one by one my favorite Christmas memories are returning to me.
The first memory of Christmas past came to mind when I opened up my Christmas tin of decorations. I was greeted by the aroma of cinnamon. Now, to many of you this is a "warm" scent, one that reeks of Christmas and the cold weather/warm house, boughs of holly, blah blah blah. When I smell cinnamon, I gag a little, then laugh. Why? Well, it all stems back to one cold day about 14 years ago, when I was a poor child of only 9. I know that I was 9 because I was wearing my Christmas sweater with the stocking on it, and the stocking made a pocket. I don't remember ever having any other themed Christmas clothing, but I really liked that sweater.
Anyways, I digress. (Greg and Keri, stop laughing at how I tell my stories!) We were at Kooks' house making all sorts of Christmas goodies. I can't remember all of what was baked that day, but I do remember the cinnamon hard tack candy. As all good cooks will do, the recipe was being followed to create a masterful work of confectionary bliss, when a certain family member decided that the two drops of cinnamon flavoring called for was not enough. I am not 100% sure of all the events that followed, but I do know that extra flavoring was added to the mix and the house was filled with the overpowering aroma of cinnamon. I couldn't take the scent, so I kept moving around the house trying to find just one place that didn't reek of the strong scent that was plaguing my nostrils. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I went to an open window and pressed my face against the screen so that I could inhale the cold, crisp air coming from outside. Obviously I survived this traumatic event, and my mom tries to convince me that it wasn't as bad as I make it out to be. But to this day, whenever I smell cinnamon anything I can feel the metal screen pressing on my nose and an overwhelming urge to get away from the offending object. I do laugh too, because, let's face it, it's just a funny situation, and ultimately it reminds me of all the fun times I have had with my mom and my aunts.
It is freezing cold in Summerville right now, so it finally felt right to turn on some Christmas tunes. As the same old songs started playing, they sounded so nice! Finally, for the first time in over two months, something familiar that made me feel like I was "home" and not a stranger in some far away place. Heck, I don't even mind the super annoying versions of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Jingle Bells as sung by Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra, respectively. (But if I hear Dominic the Donkey, I WILL go insane!) The second song I heard tonight was a lovely piece by Kenny Loggins entitled, "Please Celebrate Me Home." Now, I wasn't particularly touched by the message or anything. On the contrary, I laugh all the way through this song, or more specifically, my version of this song. I am not a good singer by any stretch, so I never sing in front of other people if I can help it. I don't even sing in my apartment on the off chance that my neighbors should be able to hear me through the walls. But this song, I sing. Always. And like I said, it is MY version that I enjoy singing.
Once upon a time, when I was 16, I was in Medina with my mom and siblings. We were in the van (I loved the van. Kacy killed it.) driving by Farmer's Exchange when the song came on the radio. All through my life I had in mind what the song was about, but at 13, I decided that the lyrics I sang had to be incorrect. (This was the time before the Homonai's had an internet connection, so I had never thought to Google the lyrics.) Finally at 16 I knew that I had to be wrong and it was time to set the record straight. So I spoke up and said, "I know what I am about to say is wrong, but I can't help it. I know he's not singing, "We celebrate meatballs," but that's all I can hear. What is he really singing?!" Being the loving, supporting person that she is, my mom did not snicker at my comment. She gave me a "What the heck?" look and started laughing very loudly! When she stopped laughing, she explained the actual lyrics as the song continued. I accepted her explanation of the lyrics, but to this day when I hear this version of the song, I sing happily "We...celebrate meatballs. Give me a number one....." I know I am wrong, but I am content in my wrongness. (Which surprisingly, Google spell check is accepting as a word!) As a side note: It only sounds like this until the choir starts singing. They have better enunciation than Mr. Loggins, so I understand them. Also, Reuben Studdard released his version of this song, and it is horrible, because there is no imagining lyrics about meatballs when he sings because he too has relatively good enunciation.
There are many more Christmas memories that I could write about, and want to write about, but Cooper is apparently having difficulty chewing his rawhide and I need to assist him before he chokes. That reminds me of another good story about Kacy's psycho cat eating almost three feet of ribbon one time. In any case, sleep tight, and tomorrow when you wake up begin lobbying your local radio stations to replace Harry Connick Jr.'s cheesy renditions of Christmas songs with the heavenly sounds of Michael Buble's Christmas songs. Because we all know that Michael Buble is the best singer ever.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
White Elephant Exchanges....
I decided today at my office's White Elephant gift exchange that this is perhaps the least effective way to give gifts to one another. Allow me to explain.
First of all, no one ever really knows the rules of a White Elephant exchange. God bless the first person to ask, "How do we play?" because you know that upon uttering those words, that poor person will be trying to keep track of what five people around them are saying. My favorite is the person who explains the game by saying, "This is the game we played last year. Do you remember?" Ummm, no. If they asked you how you play the game, I would venture a guess that they do NOT remember. Then you have, "My family calls it Yankee Swap. So it's just like that." (By the way, I had a co-worker say to me "We call it a White Elephant exchange, but since you're from the North, you probably call it Yankee Swap." She was amazed when I told her no, I didn't.) This answer has the potential to be helpful, but often it is just like telling the person that they should remember from last year. This period of temporary insanity has the potential to take up ten minutes of your party.
In any case, one person will eventually start talking more than everyone else and louder than everyone else and be deemed "THE PERSON" to explain the game. As this person explains their particular version, the other four people will be chiming in as well. At this point, all hope of an orderly game is lost. After a lengthy and often confusing explanation, the person who asked for the explanation will attempt to silence all the talkers and say, "I think I get it. Why don't we start, and I'll just figure it out as we go." This never ends well. Keep this in mind and I'll revisit this point in a few paragraphs.
Now it's time to start the game. If you have a smart person leading the game, they will have already prepared all of the number slips needed to get the game going. If not, then there is the head count, the second head count after someone moves, and the third headcount when someone starts talking during the second head count and the counter loses track of what number they were on. Numbering the paper slips used to run the game as you go is also fun because if you're not prepared, inevitably you will end up not being able to find the paper you need or a container in which to hold all of the little slips. Also, no one ever remember to designate whether the number is a 6 or a 9. That adds some spice to the game!
Drawing the number slips is another entertaining segment of the exchange. There are the people who complain about their numbers, "I don't want to be number 1." "Ugh, I'm number 10 out of 20? I'll only be able to see half the gifts at that point." "Can I switch with someone?" Then you have the people you just want to smack upside the head. These are usually the people who sit there and try to peek at the slips to get the best number possible, or the people who will sit there and swirl the numbers around and around like they're stirring a pot, hoping their fingers will become magnets and attract the most perfect number.
Finally we reach the main attraction. It is finally time to start opening gifts. Honestly, this is my least favorite part of the game. If I am the one picking a gift, I hate looking at a pile of gifts and try to quickly decide which one to open. There are too many variables for me. What if the big present actually is a small present wrapped by someone who is trying to fool me? What if that little present is a really valuable gift card? Is the shoddily wrapped present one of those, "I forgot until about ten minutes before and so I just grabbed a candle?" I am always afraid I will get the "cool" gift too, because I know it's only a matter of time before it leaves my hands, and I hate getting all excited about a gift only to have it snatched. It also makes me nervous to watch other people open gifts too. I always want to give a gift that someone will like and not make the, "Oh, that's so...cute..." statement. Plus, my gift is always one of the last to be chosen, and that bugs me. I have tried decorating it all pretty pretty, putting it in a bag, wrapping it in a box, and even leaving it in a low-key packaging. All this effort is to no avail, it always gets picked during the final rounds.
Don't forget, that during all this gift-opening, you still have the person who isn't 100% sure what is going on. This will inevitably lead to someone breaking a rule set by the loud talker. Most times this violation will be unnoticed the first time it happens. The second time a rule is broken, it will always be noticed because there is another player whose turn is upcoming and you can be sure that they are keeping a VERY close eye on every little detail so that their chance at a "perfect" turn is not jeapordized. This will bring up another lengthy discussion about the rules. It will be discussed that participants have broken the rules multiple times already and then there will be even furthur discussion about people returning gifts, replaying a turn, etc. until one brave soul shouts out, "Let's just play by the rules from now on and forget the last few turns!" This upsets most of the people whose turns were affected by the first rule-breaker, but if you're lucky, you have a room full of people who will silently sit and suffer the indignity of it all. And if you do have someone who wants to campaign for justice? Throw eggs at them. That'll make them clam up.
Finally, after all the gifts have been stolen and restolen several times and long after you get tired of the "salesman" who keeps trying to offer up their gift (which no one else will EVER want), the final brave soul grabs the final gift on the table. At this point, the game is over. Unless you want to have an argument about (note: read to the end of the sentence as quickly as you can in a feminine tone with only one breath) how your family has always played the version where you give the first person a chance to steal because that's how my mom always wanted to play it I don't care that you didn't say this was the way to do it when you set the game up today this is how it should be played it's not fair to number 1 yes it's the rule all the time even though it is pretty convenient that I was number 1 this time. The person with the "cool" gift proudly shows off their treasure, people who have stolen from another person "joke" about the other's person's facial expressions when the gift was stolen. Generally, no matter what the outcome, it is mutally agreed upon by all to find a new way to exchange gifts next year. A smart person will always know that no matter what, this vicious cycle will continue forever and ever.
At today's game, we also had a woman who was very happy with the gift she received. Not that this is unusual to be happy with a gift, but as we were discussing what we had all brought for the exchange, through process of elimination we discovered that she had purchased that gift and placed it in the exchange with the intention of stealing it back for her own use at home. In her words, "I don't want anything I don't want, so I got something that I did want and it was my plan all along to take this." I am not entirely sure how I feel about this, but I am leaning towards not liking this...oh well. I ended up with some nice Christmas decorations that I enjoy!
Having written this, I must say...while the least effective way to exchange gifts, it may also be the most hilarious. I am looking forward to many more White Elephant Exchanges (or Chinese gift exchange, Yankee Swap, etc.) in the future.
I can't say goodnight yet, as it's still only mid-afternoon, but I will say: Drive safe and know that 'palmetto bug' is just a fancy term for cockroach. (Someone fooled me with that and I am not too pleased!)
First of all, no one ever really knows the rules of a White Elephant exchange. God bless the first person to ask, "How do we play?" because you know that upon uttering those words, that poor person will be trying to keep track of what five people around them are saying. My favorite is the person who explains the game by saying, "This is the game we played last year. Do you remember?" Ummm, no. If they asked you how you play the game, I would venture a guess that they do NOT remember. Then you have, "My family calls it Yankee Swap. So it's just like that." (By the way, I had a co-worker say to me "We call it a White Elephant exchange, but since you're from the North, you probably call it Yankee Swap." She was amazed when I told her no, I didn't.) This answer has the potential to be helpful, but often it is just like telling the person that they should remember from last year. This period of temporary insanity has the potential to take up ten minutes of your party.
In any case, one person will eventually start talking more than everyone else and louder than everyone else and be deemed "THE PERSON" to explain the game. As this person explains their particular version, the other four people will be chiming in as well. At this point, all hope of an orderly game is lost. After a lengthy and often confusing explanation, the person who asked for the explanation will attempt to silence all the talkers and say, "I think I get it. Why don't we start, and I'll just figure it out as we go." This never ends well. Keep this in mind and I'll revisit this point in a few paragraphs.
Now it's time to start the game. If you have a smart person leading the game, they will have already prepared all of the number slips needed to get the game going. If not, then there is the head count, the second head count after someone moves, and the third headcount when someone starts talking during the second head count and the counter loses track of what number they were on. Numbering the paper slips used to run the game as you go is also fun because if you're not prepared, inevitably you will end up not being able to find the paper you need or a container in which to hold all of the little slips. Also, no one ever remember to designate whether the number is a 6 or a 9. That adds some spice to the game!
Drawing the number slips is another entertaining segment of the exchange. There are the people who complain about their numbers, "I don't want to be number 1." "Ugh, I'm number 10 out of 20? I'll only be able to see half the gifts at that point." "Can I switch with someone?" Then you have the people you just want to smack upside the head. These are usually the people who sit there and try to peek at the slips to get the best number possible, or the people who will sit there and swirl the numbers around and around like they're stirring a pot, hoping their fingers will become magnets and attract the most perfect number.
Finally we reach the main attraction. It is finally time to start opening gifts. Honestly, this is my least favorite part of the game. If I am the one picking a gift, I hate looking at a pile of gifts and try to quickly decide which one to open. There are too many variables for me. What if the big present actually is a small present wrapped by someone who is trying to fool me? What if that little present is a really valuable gift card? Is the shoddily wrapped present one of those, "I forgot until about ten minutes before and so I just grabbed a candle?" I am always afraid I will get the "cool" gift too, because I know it's only a matter of time before it leaves my hands, and I hate getting all excited about a gift only to have it snatched. It also makes me nervous to watch other people open gifts too. I always want to give a gift that someone will like and not make the, "Oh, that's so...cute..." statement. Plus, my gift is always one of the last to be chosen, and that bugs me. I have tried decorating it all pretty pretty, putting it in a bag, wrapping it in a box, and even leaving it in a low-key packaging. All this effort is to no avail, it always gets picked during the final rounds.
Don't forget, that during all this gift-opening, you still have the person who isn't 100% sure what is going on. This will inevitably lead to someone breaking a rule set by the loud talker. Most times this violation will be unnoticed the first time it happens. The second time a rule is broken, it will always be noticed because there is another player whose turn is upcoming and you can be sure that they are keeping a VERY close eye on every little detail so that their chance at a "perfect" turn is not jeapordized. This will bring up another lengthy discussion about the rules. It will be discussed that participants have broken the rules multiple times already and then there will be even furthur discussion about people returning gifts, replaying a turn, etc. until one brave soul shouts out, "Let's just play by the rules from now on and forget the last few turns!" This upsets most of the people whose turns were affected by the first rule-breaker, but if you're lucky, you have a room full of people who will silently sit and suffer the indignity of it all. And if you do have someone who wants to campaign for justice? Throw eggs at them. That'll make them clam up.
Finally, after all the gifts have been stolen and restolen several times and long after you get tired of the "salesman" who keeps trying to offer up their gift (which no one else will EVER want), the final brave soul grabs the final gift on the table. At this point, the game is over. Unless you want to have an argument about (note: read to the end of the sentence as quickly as you can in a feminine tone with only one breath) how your family has always played the version where you give the first person a chance to steal because that's how my mom always wanted to play it I don't care that you didn't say this was the way to do it when you set the game up today this is how it should be played it's not fair to number 1 yes it's the rule all the time even though it is pretty convenient that I was number 1 this time. The person with the "cool" gift proudly shows off their treasure, people who have stolen from another person "joke" about the other's person's facial expressions when the gift was stolen. Generally, no matter what the outcome, it is mutally agreed upon by all to find a new way to exchange gifts next year. A smart person will always know that no matter what, this vicious cycle will continue forever and ever.
At today's game, we also had a woman who was very happy with the gift she received. Not that this is unusual to be happy with a gift, but as we were discussing what we had all brought for the exchange, through process of elimination we discovered that she had purchased that gift and placed it in the exchange with the intention of stealing it back for her own use at home. In her words, "I don't want anything I don't want, so I got something that I did want and it was my plan all along to take this." I am not entirely sure how I feel about this, but I am leaning towards not liking this...oh well. I ended up with some nice Christmas decorations that I enjoy!
Having written this, I must say...while the least effective way to exchange gifts, it may also be the most hilarious. I am looking forward to many more White Elephant Exchanges (or Chinese gift exchange, Yankee Swap, etc.) in the future.
I can't say goodnight yet, as it's still only mid-afternoon, but I will say: Drive safe and know that 'palmetto bug' is just a fancy term for cockroach. (Someone fooled me with that and I am not too pleased!)
Monday, November 29, 2010
The joys of office life...
I have my own office, and it is quite nice. I would guess that the office is probably 12'x10'. On the east wall is a window. My desk is quite large. It takes up the southeast corner of the office, and is probably extends 6 feet from the wall in one direction and 5 fin the other. It has a lot of overhead storage space and there are a number of drawers. I have a scale and height measure in my office, as well as a bulletin board and a pamphlet holder. To complete the ensemble, I have two adult chairs, one child's rocking chair, and a little play area for the kids.
Sounds like the typical office, right? It really is, but I am the one writing this entry so I will give it my own spin and make it sound like some freaky little place!!
The window lets in a lot of sunlight in the morning, which means that even with the blinds shut it gets toasty in here. I am kind of dreading what summer is going to be like in here. Sometimes in the afternoon I will open the blinds for some natural light, which allows me to have a terrific view of a fenced-in yard...that has three heating and cooling units which are constantly running.
Did I mention that directly across from my office are the two employee bathrooms? My supervisor and fellow co-workers call this the "initiation office." Everyone who starts here works out of this office first. You can only imagine the smells that waft in here on occasion. Mostly they are "covered up" with a lovely mango-scented spray. Now, I have a pretty bad sense of smell for a lot of things, which is very helpful in this situation. That being said, some dummy here thought that the mango-scented air freshener was a good idea. On the other end of my "smell spectrum" are the scents that give me instant headaches. Apparently, among these select scents is mango. Sooooo...either way I hate it when I hear people heading into the bathroom. Also know that the window in my office does not open, so there is no chance of me ever airing this place out.
I do like my desk. I like that it is super large and I have tons of space to spread all of my paperwork over the course of a day. The only problem is, the areas that would be inaccesible for the small children to reach is also inaccesible to me, since I am not allowed to turn my back to the client during the certification process (It's mean to not look at them!) This means that I can't hide the phone and it's tempting cord from the grasp of little fingers. My office was used as a spare until I got here, and it became THE office site for storage. This includes the 8 cans of chemicals in the overhead drawers. Until I made my supervisor relocate said chemicals, I had the ability to sanitize every flat surface, kill roaches (ewwww!) and scent the world with, you guessed it, mango. Also included in these bins were a few chocolate pretzel bars from Special-K. They were pretty darn good, they made for a nice snack on a few days that I forgot breakfast. I also have 800 packs of Splenda in that Special-K box. I don't know who put them there, but they had a serious coffee/fake sugar problem!
The scale and height measure in my room are each of the offices for the "just in case" situation that has never happened. I wouldn't have any issue with this, except every child that walks in this room heads right for the scale and tries to use it as a trampoline. They will look up at the height measure and will try to reach for the perpendicular metal bar used to get the final height. Looking up at the bar combined with the jerky motion of their hands and the bars penchant to stick and unstick within seconds makes this a great eye-poking hazard. As you can imagine, when the parents don't see this/heed my warning, I just want to look at them and ask, "Do you really want to have to explain to your child why the other kids are teasing him and calling him 'Cyclops?" But, since I am a professional, I don't. On the outside.
At some point the the past, someone took it upon themselves to determine what colors make people feel certain emotions like happiness, tranquility, hunger and disbelief it isn't time to go home yet, etc. Apparently, blue is a happy color. I call it "health care blue." It is everywhere: The walls are blue, the chairs are all blue, the carpet is mostly blue, I signed my travel logs in blue pen, the dividers on the WIC charts are blue, blue, blue, blue.
The lovely blue walls are being painted right now, one at a time on the weekends by "good behavior" inmates from the local jail. They are such a wonderful crew. They carefully paint around all of the artwork hanging on the wall. While this is stupid in and of itself, it really shows here in my office since they painted around a 5'x4' painting that was eventually deemed "offensive" because of the feet of the children in the painting. So now I have a 5'x4' spot that is a lighter shade of "health care blue" than the rest of the office and I noticed today that it was replaced with two 8x11 sheets of paper with the WIC foods on them. Yep, covers that spot right up! Needless to say, when I have the time, I do a lot of redecorating in here.
The play area is a nice feature, it keeps the kids busy while I am playing "800 Fairly Inane Questions" with the parents. The only problem is, the only toys in the office are the only ones that are allowed to be in the office. This includes the number puzzle that is missing number 5 and number 1 pieces but for some reason includes the letter G. For the slightly older children, we have a battery operated toy that has something to do with reading, but the batteries don't work and all the buttons are jammed from years of abuse. Needless to say, unless my clients have really active imaginations, they aren't going to have much fun in my office.
Well, it is now time to move on in my day. So until the next time, have a safe drive home and please- don't ever paint the walls of your house blue!
Sounds like the typical office, right? It really is, but I am the one writing this entry so I will give it my own spin and make it sound like some freaky little place!!
The window lets in a lot of sunlight in the morning, which means that even with the blinds shut it gets toasty in here. I am kind of dreading what summer is going to be like in here. Sometimes in the afternoon I will open the blinds for some natural light, which allows me to have a terrific view of a fenced-in yard...that has three heating and cooling units which are constantly running.
Did I mention that directly across from my office are the two employee bathrooms? My supervisor and fellow co-workers call this the "initiation office." Everyone who starts here works out of this office first. You can only imagine the smells that waft in here on occasion. Mostly they are "covered up" with a lovely mango-scented spray. Now, I have a pretty bad sense of smell for a lot of things, which is very helpful in this situation. That being said, some dummy here thought that the mango-scented air freshener was a good idea. On the other end of my "smell spectrum" are the scents that give me instant headaches. Apparently, among these select scents is mango. Sooooo...either way I hate it when I hear people heading into the bathroom. Also know that the window in my office does not open, so there is no chance of me ever airing this place out.
I do like my desk. I like that it is super large and I have tons of space to spread all of my paperwork over the course of a day. The only problem is, the areas that would be inaccesible for the small children to reach is also inaccesible to me, since I am not allowed to turn my back to the client during the certification process (It's mean to not look at them!) This means that I can't hide the phone and it's tempting cord from the grasp of little fingers. My office was used as a spare until I got here, and it became THE office site for storage. This includes the 8 cans of chemicals in the overhead drawers. Until I made my supervisor relocate said chemicals, I had the ability to sanitize every flat surface, kill roaches (ewwww!) and scent the world with, you guessed it, mango. Also included in these bins were a few chocolate pretzel bars from Special-K. They were pretty darn good, they made for a nice snack on a few days that I forgot breakfast. I also have 800 packs of Splenda in that Special-K box. I don't know who put them there, but they had a serious coffee/fake sugar problem!
The scale and height measure in my room are each of the offices for the "just in case" situation that has never happened. I wouldn't have any issue with this, except every child that walks in this room heads right for the scale and tries to use it as a trampoline. They will look up at the height measure and will try to reach for the perpendicular metal bar used to get the final height. Looking up at the bar combined with the jerky motion of their hands and the bars penchant to stick and unstick within seconds makes this a great eye-poking hazard. As you can imagine, when the parents don't see this/heed my warning, I just want to look at them and ask, "Do you really want to have to explain to your child why the other kids are teasing him and calling him 'Cyclops?" But, since I am a professional, I don't. On the outside.
At some point the the past, someone took it upon themselves to determine what colors make people feel certain emotions like happiness, tranquility, hunger and disbelief it isn't time to go home yet, etc. Apparently, blue is a happy color. I call it "health care blue." It is everywhere: The walls are blue, the chairs are all blue, the carpet is mostly blue, I signed my travel logs in blue pen, the dividers on the WIC charts are blue, blue, blue, blue.
The lovely blue walls are being painted right now, one at a time on the weekends by "good behavior" inmates from the local jail. They are such a wonderful crew. They carefully paint around all of the artwork hanging on the wall. While this is stupid in and of itself, it really shows here in my office since they painted around a 5'x4' painting that was eventually deemed "offensive" because of the feet of the children in the painting. So now I have a 5'x4' spot that is a lighter shade of "health care blue" than the rest of the office and I noticed today that it was replaced with two 8x11 sheets of paper with the WIC foods on them. Yep, covers that spot right up! Needless to say, when I have the time, I do a lot of redecorating in here.
The play area is a nice feature, it keeps the kids busy while I am playing "800 Fairly Inane Questions" with the parents. The only problem is, the only toys in the office are the only ones that are allowed to be in the office. This includes the number puzzle that is missing number 5 and number 1 pieces but for some reason includes the letter G. For the slightly older children, we have a battery operated toy that has something to do with reading, but the batteries don't work and all the buttons are jammed from years of abuse. Needless to say, unless my clients have really active imaginations, they aren't going to have much fun in my office.
Well, it is now time to move on in my day. So until the next time, have a safe drive home and please- don't ever paint the walls of your house blue!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Twas the night before Thanksgiving Eve...
...and all through the State of South Carolina it was almost 80 degrees. Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy warm temperatures just as much as the next person, especially when I'm used to being freezing cold this time of year and already sick of the gray skies. (Which, except for that one day of snow, it sounds like you Ohio people don't have too much to complain about right now!)
That being said, two very traumatic things happened to me this week. First, I was driving through downtown Summerville and since it was late enough for it to be dark out, I was able to see all the pretty Christmas lights that they have decorating all of the oak and pine trees in the city center. It was absolutely gorgeous, they really went all out. But...I opened the window a crack to hear the concert that was also starting at that time and heard Christmas music. With that window opening I was able to feel the warm breeze blowing through my car. At that moment in time it ceased to be a beautifully decorated holiday scene and turned into those times when you're driving around in July and you find that one person who STILL hasn't taken down their Christmas lights (And no, they usually cannot claim the "Christmas in July" excuse. It's freaking July, you were too lazy!)
Second, as I was driving home from church on Sunday I turned my radio to the Charleston equivalent of 102.1 and heard Christmas music. It might not have been so bad if it had been a song I like, but it wasn't. So instead of singing along to my radio like I normally do, I got that "getting into a hot, stuffy car in the middle of June" feeling. I don't know about you, but whenever I hear Christmas music during June/July I get that nasty feeling like when you climb into a hot car and it makes me not even want to think about anything Christmas at all. That was the feeling I got Sunday. So instead of being excited for the coming season like I usually am...I just wasn't.
Ironically, the song on the radio was "Do They Know It's Christmas?" I despise that song. I just do, and always have. (note: I figured there was a deeper meaning, so I read up on the background. Having read what I did, it almost seems mean to be comparing relatively affluent people with starving Ethiopians, but I am going to anyways.) Once I thought about it a little more, I started laughing to myself. Obviously people around here know what Christmas is and they celebrate it just like we do in Ohio (the term "we," including myself as an Ohioan is still appropriate. I still have an Ohio license, so that makes me a dual citizen at the very least!) But the idea of celebrating Christmas in shorts and a t-shirt made me sad. "The Reason for the Season" aside, I want to know...can Charlestonians truly enjoy the Christmas season with the lack of snow? Is the viewing of Christmas lights less pleasurable when it isn't cold outside? Does caroling produce the same amount of cheeriness when you aren't bundled up in heavy winter coats and brightly decorated scarves and gloves? This remains to be seen!! Obviously, I know the answers to the above questions is yes, no, and yes, respectively. Christmas and the surrounding season is what you make it and ultimately we are celebrating the birth of a Savior and not decoratively frozen raindrops falling from the sky or hypothermia-inducing weather.
Everything about Christmas is going to be different for me this year, and I look forward to it. It will be different knowing that there is no chance for snow. It will be different when I turn on my AC and my Christmas lights at the same time. I would say it's going to be different to see palmettos decorated with lights rather than pine trees, but here in Summerville the "pine is sacred" according to the city motto, so I don't think that will change! In any case, different isn't bad, just a chance to experience the everyday aspects of life in new ways.
Well, my life is going to be incredibly busy for the next 30.5 hours and it is time to get some work done. What I want to know is why we are obsessed with cleaning our homes before we LEAVE. Is it just because we want to be able to say our homes were completely clean for 5 days? I don't know. All I know is that I am one of those obsessed people and there is work to be done.
There are a number of you that I will be seeing while home for Thanksgiving. If I don't see you, it's not because I don't want to. It mostly has to do with the fact that I will only be home for a little while. In any case, if you don't see me at Thanksgiving, find me around Christmas. I'll be home for awhile then!
Sleep tight and don't let the foxes bite!
That being said, two very traumatic things happened to me this week. First, I was driving through downtown Summerville and since it was late enough for it to be dark out, I was able to see all the pretty Christmas lights that they have decorating all of the oak and pine trees in the city center. It was absolutely gorgeous, they really went all out. But...I opened the window a crack to hear the concert that was also starting at that time and heard Christmas music. With that window opening I was able to feel the warm breeze blowing through my car. At that moment in time it ceased to be a beautifully decorated holiday scene and turned into those times when you're driving around in July and you find that one person who STILL hasn't taken down their Christmas lights (And no, they usually cannot claim the "Christmas in July" excuse. It's freaking July, you were too lazy!)
Second, as I was driving home from church on Sunday I turned my radio to the Charleston equivalent of 102.1 and heard Christmas music. It might not have been so bad if it had been a song I like, but it wasn't. So instead of singing along to my radio like I normally do, I got that "getting into a hot, stuffy car in the middle of June" feeling. I don't know about you, but whenever I hear Christmas music during June/July I get that nasty feeling like when you climb into a hot car and it makes me not even want to think about anything Christmas at all. That was the feeling I got Sunday. So instead of being excited for the coming season like I usually am...I just wasn't.
Ironically, the song on the radio was "Do They Know It's Christmas?" I despise that song. I just do, and always have. (note: I figured there was a deeper meaning, so I read up on the background. Having read what I did, it almost seems mean to be comparing relatively affluent people with starving Ethiopians, but I am going to anyways.) Once I thought about it a little more, I started laughing to myself. Obviously people around here know what Christmas is and they celebrate it just like we do in Ohio (the term "we," including myself as an Ohioan is still appropriate. I still have an Ohio license, so that makes me a dual citizen at the very least!) But the idea of celebrating Christmas in shorts and a t-shirt made me sad. "The Reason for the Season" aside, I want to know...can Charlestonians truly enjoy the Christmas season with the lack of snow? Is the viewing of Christmas lights less pleasurable when it isn't cold outside? Does caroling produce the same amount of cheeriness when you aren't bundled up in heavy winter coats and brightly decorated scarves and gloves? This remains to be seen!! Obviously, I know the answers to the above questions is yes, no, and yes, respectively. Christmas and the surrounding season is what you make it and ultimately we are celebrating the birth of a Savior and not decoratively frozen raindrops falling from the sky or hypothermia-inducing weather.
Everything about Christmas is going to be different for me this year, and I look forward to it. It will be different knowing that there is no chance for snow. It will be different when I turn on my AC and my Christmas lights at the same time. I would say it's going to be different to see palmettos decorated with lights rather than pine trees, but here in Summerville the "pine is sacred" according to the city motto, so I don't think that will change! In any case, different isn't bad, just a chance to experience the everyday aspects of life in new ways.
Well, my life is going to be incredibly busy for the next 30.5 hours and it is time to get some work done. What I want to know is why we are obsessed with cleaning our homes before we LEAVE. Is it just because we want to be able to say our homes were completely clean for 5 days? I don't know. All I know is that I am one of those obsessed people and there is work to be done.
There are a number of you that I will be seeing while home for Thanksgiving. If I don't see you, it's not because I don't want to. It mostly has to do with the fact that I will only be home for a little while. In any case, if you don't see me at Thanksgiving, find me around Christmas. I'll be home for awhile then!
Sleep tight and don't let the foxes bite!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
They said, I said. Then and Now
Parents. We all have them. Mine are both pretty awesome. I feel very blessed that I grew up with my Mom and Dad in a loving environment. However, before I sing their praises too much and they get too proud of themselves, I want to share with you their flaw: They give advice. For as long as I remember they kept trying to pass on their old, outdated notions to me like I didn't know what I was doing. Ugh. And the worst thing, they would almost always end their "helpful comments" with a statement like, "you'll thank me when you're older and out of the house." Well, now that I am older (I am not grown up. I am too young for that!) and on my own, allow me to prove them wrong once and for all. Here are some of the absurd statements they have told me over the years, my response to them then, and how I'm doing now.
Then (Them): "Turn off the lights. When you're paying your own electricity bill, you'll thank us for telling you this."
Then (Me): "I left it on for the cat."
Now: When I'm out walking the dog at night or when I'm walking trash out to the dumpster I will kind of look around and notice that my bedroom light, the bedroom closet light, the bathroom light, the kitchen light, the hallway light, the two living room lights, the dining room light, and the entryway light are ALL on. My neighbors? One room is lit, max.
Then (Them): "A place for everything and everything in its place. Things will run so much smoother for you."
Me (Then): "Whatever."
Now: I think each morning I make it out the door only to realize that I have forgotten my purse or phone or ID badge or something else that is important and have to turn off the car and get back in the house, fight the dog at the door and search like a crazy person to find whatever I'm looking for.
Then (Them- especially my mom): "Clean up after yourself. When you're out of the house, I will tell your boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/landlord/neighbor/friend that I raised you to be a better housekeeper and not a slob like this!"
Then (Me): "I have a system. It looks messy, but I know where everything is. Besides, when it's my own place, I'll keep it looking nicer."
Now: A notice on my door that my apartment was conducting unit inspections and people would be inside my house for about five minutes led me to stay up until midnight trying to get the house clean so that they wouldn't see the giant pigsty of a house I had going.
Then (Them): "Clean up the kitchen as you go."
Me: "I don't care. I have to clean it up one way or another, why not wait until I'm all done."
Now: I currently have my meals for the next two weeks cooked up and put in the freezer, but the remnants of that meal are all over the kitchen and I don't really feel like cleaning up now that it's 10:15.
Then (Them): "Keep an eye on the animal food. Go out and buy some new food before you run out, that way it's not an emergency later."
Then (Me): "Yeah, yeah..."
Now: Twice I have had to do early morning runs to the Wal-Mart store 15 minutes from home so that I could feed my dog before I went to work.
Then (Them): "Take stuff with you when get out of the car."
Then (Me): <eye roll and heavy sigh>
Now: I think I have a rotting banana and banana muffins in the car as well as a take out cup from last week, a travel mug, a water bottle, church bulletins from the 8 Sundays I've been here, a whole bunch of training stuff from work, seashells, a broken crab shell, some pictures of friends, and my beach mat. Yeah, I try not to park next to my co-workers, ever.
So, as you can see, all their advice giving was for naught. I didn't listen to them and I turned out ok. I have a good job and I am living all by myself like a big girl.
<In a hushed tone>: I mean, if I did take their advice, life would be a lot easier, but you'll never hear ME admit that!
Well ladies and gentlemen, it is about that time where my brain shuts down and I have the vocabulary and writing style of a first grader. Plus, the 10:45 service at Crossroads always comes sooner than I expect it to. (And I'm out of dog food again, so I have to run to Wal-Mart early so that Cooper can have breakfast. Maybe it is time to take some of that advice!)
Good night and don't walk under the oak tree. (Falling acorns hurt your head.)
Then (Them): "Turn off the lights. When you're paying your own electricity bill, you'll thank us for telling you this."
Then (Me): "I left it on for the cat."
Now: When I'm out walking the dog at night or when I'm walking trash out to the dumpster I will kind of look around and notice that my bedroom light, the bedroom closet light, the bathroom light, the kitchen light, the hallway light, the two living room lights, the dining room light, and the entryway light are ALL on. My neighbors? One room is lit, max.
Then (Them): "A place for everything and everything in its place. Things will run so much smoother for you."
Me (Then): "Whatever."
Now: I think each morning I make it out the door only to realize that I have forgotten my purse or phone or ID badge or something else that is important and have to turn off the car and get back in the house, fight the dog at the door and search like a crazy person to find whatever I'm looking for.
Then (Them- especially my mom): "Clean up after yourself. When you're out of the house, I will tell your boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife/landlord/neighbor/friend that I raised you to be a better housekeeper and not a slob like this!"
Then (Me): "I have a system. It looks messy, but I know where everything is. Besides, when it's my own place, I'll keep it looking nicer."
Now: A notice on my door that my apartment was conducting unit inspections and people would be inside my house for about five minutes led me to stay up until midnight trying to get the house clean so that they wouldn't see the giant pigsty of a house I had going.
Then (Them): "Clean up the kitchen as you go."
Me: "I don't care. I have to clean it up one way or another, why not wait until I'm all done."
Now: I currently have my meals for the next two weeks cooked up and put in the freezer, but the remnants of that meal are all over the kitchen and I don't really feel like cleaning up now that it's 10:15.
Then (Them): "Keep an eye on the animal food. Go out and buy some new food before you run out, that way it's not an emergency later."
Then (Me): "Yeah, yeah..."
Now: Twice I have had to do early morning runs to the Wal-Mart store 15 minutes from home so that I could feed my dog before I went to work.
Then (Them): "Take stuff with you when get out of the car."
Then (Me): <eye roll and heavy sigh>
Now: I think I have a rotting banana and banana muffins in the car as well as a take out cup from last week, a travel mug, a water bottle, church bulletins from the 8 Sundays I've been here, a whole bunch of training stuff from work, seashells, a broken crab shell, some pictures of friends, and my beach mat. Yeah, I try not to park next to my co-workers, ever.
So, as you can see, all their advice giving was for naught. I didn't listen to them and I turned out ok. I have a good job and I am living all by myself like a big girl.
<In a hushed tone>: I mean, if I did take their advice, life would be a lot easier, but you'll never hear ME admit that!
Well ladies and gentlemen, it is about that time where my brain shuts down and I have the vocabulary and writing style of a first grader. Plus, the 10:45 service at Crossroads always comes sooner than I expect it to. (And I'm out of dog food again, so I have to run to Wal-Mart early so that Cooper can have breakfast. Maybe it is time to take some of that advice!)
Good night and don't walk under the oak tree. (Falling acorns hurt your head.)
Monday, November 1, 2010
Mental Lapses, part II
I used to pride myself on having a great memory, one that would allow me to recall anything at a moment's notice. I could sometimes recall events from up to three or four years past, to the day, and tell you what happened. There once was a time when I could tell you what happened based on what I remember about little, completely unrelated pieces of information that I remembered from that day. It was awesome.
That is no longer true. I trace it back to a day, long ago during my sophomore year of college when I was working 30 hours a week and trying to take 18 credit hours, an Anatomy and Physiology lecture and lab among them. There is a great line from The Office, after one character has just completely lost it, where another character says, "I think we broke his brain." I remember the exact day that I felt that for the first time (For trying to prove a point about how bad my memory is, that is a really bad example.).
Anyways, that brings us to the present. I felt that since I was moving to a new area where I didn't know anyone,I wouldn't have as many demands on my time and I would be able to kind of relax and with relaxation bring back my sanity. Yeah. Right. Even as my life has slowed down in many areas, my sanity still remains elusive. Allow me to illustrate:
See the post right before this one? The one with two entries about milk? I will occasionally start a new blog topic, write a little bit about what I was thinking of, and then save it and move on until I have more time to elaborate on the subject. Today's topic was going to be about Monday mental lapses, where I tell people we will give them 16 oz of milk (or two glasses) or 16 gallons of milk, all in the same breath (I was really trying to tell them 16 qts of milk). Upon realizing that I happily posted those two lines, I gave more thought to my mental lapses and decided that I could write an entire blog entry about all of the crazy and stupid things I've done in the last few days because of mental lapses. Enjoy!
I lost my cell phone, and when I finally decided I couldn't find it and gave up, I decided to locate my cell phone by calling it with my home phone. I don't have a home phone. I tried to call my cell... with my cell.
I walked away from the stove thinking I had turned the burner off because there was no flame. I have an electric oven, there should never be a flame!
I put my pot of soup on the back burner of the range, turned on the burner and walked away. When I started to smell my cast iron skillet, which I was not using, I realized that I had turned on the front burner, where the lid to my cast iron skillet was resting. Prior to this I had been checking on the soup and couldn't figure out why it wasn't warming up any faster.
I freaked out because I drove with my spare car keys. That meant I didn't have my house keys to re-enter the house. I couldn't have locked the door unless I had locked it from the outside, with the key I didn't bring with me.
I left the door unlocked!
I "retraced" my steps today through my office building, trying to find out where I had left my water bottle. Per usual, it was on top of the refrigerator, where I always leave it while I refill the ice trays. Always.
I wrote a check to myself.
I wrote a check to a business and signed it with my work credentials: "Katherine Homonai, NES."
I find it very scary that I function in society like I do without unintentionally killing anyone. I scare myself that at 23 I forget the things I do. But such is life, you need an insane person in your life to make it interesting. I hope you enjoy reading about my insanity. Sleep tight and don't let the fire ants bite.
That is no longer true. I trace it back to a day, long ago during my sophomore year of college when I was working 30 hours a week and trying to take 18 credit hours, an Anatomy and Physiology lecture and lab among them. There is a great line from The Office, after one character has just completely lost it, where another character says, "I think we broke his brain." I remember the exact day that I felt that for the first time (For trying to prove a point about how bad my memory is, that is a really bad example.).
Anyways, that brings us to the present. I felt that since I was moving to a new area where I didn't know anyone,I wouldn't have as many demands on my time and I would be able to kind of relax and with relaxation bring back my sanity. Yeah. Right. Even as my life has slowed down in many areas, my sanity still remains elusive. Allow me to illustrate:
See the post right before this one? The one with two entries about milk? I will occasionally start a new blog topic, write a little bit about what I was thinking of, and then save it and move on until I have more time to elaborate on the subject. Today's topic was going to be about Monday mental lapses, where I tell people we will give them 16 oz of milk (or two glasses) or 16 gallons of milk, all in the same breath (I was really trying to tell them 16 qts of milk). Upon realizing that I happily posted those two lines, I gave more thought to my mental lapses and decided that I could write an entire blog entry about all of the crazy and stupid things I've done in the last few days because of mental lapses. Enjoy!
I lost my cell phone, and when I finally decided I couldn't find it and gave up, I decided to locate my cell phone by calling it with my home phone. I don't have a home phone. I tried to call my cell... with my cell.
I walked away from the stove thinking I had turned the burner off because there was no flame. I have an electric oven, there should never be a flame!
I put my pot of soup on the back burner of the range, turned on the burner and walked away. When I started to smell my cast iron skillet, which I was not using, I realized that I had turned on the front burner, where the lid to my cast iron skillet was resting. Prior to this I had been checking on the soup and couldn't figure out why it wasn't warming up any faster.
I freaked out because I drove with my spare car keys. That meant I didn't have my house keys to re-enter the house. I couldn't have locked the door unless I had locked it from the outside, with the key I didn't bring with me.
I left the door unlocked!
I "retraced" my steps today through my office building, trying to find out where I had left my water bottle. Per usual, it was on top of the refrigerator, where I always leave it while I refill the ice trays. Always.
I wrote a check to myself.
I wrote a check to a business and signed it with my work credentials: "Katherine Homonai, NES."
I find it very scary that I function in society like I do without unintentionally killing anyone. I scare myself that at 23 I forget the things I do. But such is life, you need an insane person in your life to make it interesting. I hope you enjoy reading about my insanity. Sleep tight and don't let the fire ants bite.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Patience is....a virtue that is being tested, perhaps to be gained later.
Those of you who know me well know that patience is not one of the virtues that I possess. When presented with chances to be patient I tend to do a couple of things. Often, I will try to take care of the situation myself, right then and there without first thinking the entire situation out. Sometimes I panic and just sit, which is frustration-induced inaction and not to be confused with patience. If I have to depend on someone else, I will generally bug them to no end. If you don't believe this, ask my mom. She usually bears the brunt of my "bugging."
Soo, now that we know a little more about Kate, let me tell you how I am learning patience here in Charleston!
The Traffic: I told you that this was another story for another day. Today is that day! When first doing some initial research into the demographics of Charleston, I was interested to learn that the population was about the same size as Akron, as was the "metropolitan statistical area" population. So I kind of assumed that traffic in Charleston would be like traffic in Akron, which can be difficult, especially trying to take 76 in or out during rush hours, but not bad over all. Dang was I wrong! Everywhere you go there is traffic!! I've had the distinct misfortune of not working at my "home base" four miles from my house, but rather, training at locations 15-20 miles from home. There has not been a day where I haven't had to drive in bumper-to-bumper traffic. The one day, I was sitting in traffic on one road, watching people turn around in the middle of the road and head in the other direction because the road was so backed up from an accident a few miles ahead. About the time I thought about turning around and going the only other route I could think of, I turned on my radio and heard on the traffic report that there was an even bigger accident on that other road. I wasn't the only one late to the training session that day!
Find a girl named Katie Everhard and ask her how patient I am in traffic. After she's done laughing in your face (give her about ten minutes), she'll tell you that I think I deserve my own lane of traffic, far away from the traffic jams. So this has been one way of learning patience. It drives me crazy, so very crazy, but at the very least I am learning to tolerate the traffic. Last week, during my hour and fifteen minute drive home, I people watched. Five homeless guys crossed in front of, or near my car at one intersection. They just chatted with themselves, ambling about. I got to drive by the local university and watch their track team practice. Let's just say I would not put money on their shot put athletes winning any competitions anytime soon. I am learning to just sit and take my time, knowing that to hurry will probably only lead to an accident or a tension headache.
The Food: I spent a considerable amount of time planning for this move. Even before I had applied to this job I had been making lists of things I wanted/needed to buy to furnish my apartment. This led to certain "friends" asking me how my "imaginary apartment" was shaping up! I had lists for every room in the house, down to coasters and egg separators. One thing I didn't even think about was a microwave. There were a lot of things that I overlooked, and I guess I just assumed that there is a microwave in every kitchen!!! But upon arrival, no microwave. However, my Grandma did give me a toaster oven, and that has been my best friend in meal prep!! There is a certain amount of patience required with this device though.
Books have been written on how to prepare gourmet meals in microwaves, with proper temperatures and times for cooking. In theory, every meal can be terrific. My method is this: Everything cooks when you hit "one minute" and "high." Everything. So when presented with the toaster oven, I soon learned that you can't hit those two magic buttons, I actually have to put thought into the baking time and temperature and then wait! Same goes for heating items on the stove. Electric ovens are slower to warm, so I have to wait for soup and hot water too. I think Cooper thinks I'm crazy as I talk to the oven and the range, "Hurry up!" "Could you heat up some time tonight please? I'm getting a little hungry." I also have to stay near the oven when I'm using it, because I haven't totally mastered the art of the toaster oven, so I have to watch that I'm not going to burn anything. I would be devastated if I burned my cheesy potatoes! This requires quite some patience, as watching a toaster oven is about as productive as watching water boil. So now I just get all my food together, stick it on the magic tray and just stand there, patiently waiting, taking the opportunity to chill out for likely the first time that day.
The Dog: I love my dog. He's a pretty good boy, and when he does do bad things, he makes up for it in loyalty and general cuteness. But that dog tries my patience like nothing else. In the morning, I take him out, feed him, and then give him a half an hour before I take him out one last time. Yeah. The dog has now discovered that after his a.m. feeding and walk, I leave. So what used to be a ten minute walk to relieve himself has now turned into a thirty minute walk around the entire apartment community in an attempt to find the "best" place to do his business. Any attempts to hurry the process result backfire. As I tell him to "hurry up" I find that he will find other things to pay attention to. He could care less about the squirrels here, but as soon as I tell him to "hurry up," squirrels become the most interesting thing ever! Telling him to "hurry up" makes him more skittish too. One morning he got scared by a falling pinecone. The next, my neighbor on crutches. There was the day the garbage truck backfired. That was fun. Of course, we can't forget the imaginary noises that probably originate in his pea-sized brain. But, as alway, patience is required. While I would really like him to figure out that the patch of grass by my apartment is just like the one on the other side of the community, now I just walk along, listening to the mockingbirds sing, enjoying the sunshine and blue skies, and looking at the pinecones up about 50 feet in the air, wondering when one is going to drop and hit me. (This is not an irrational fear! I hear them drop all the time, and they are not small!)
So perhaps when I come back to Ohio in four weeks, you will notice that I have changed. I will no longer be asking drivers of other cars rhetorical questions like, "Did you just learn to drive yesterday?" I will take the time to heat my food properly in the microwave, not blowing up potatoes or turkey, but warming it to a delectable temperature. Stop laughing, I only said it might happen! So long,and until next time: sleep tight and don't let the little lizards bite!
Soo, now that we know a little more about Kate, let me tell you how I am learning patience here in Charleston!
The Traffic: I told you that this was another story for another day. Today is that day! When first doing some initial research into the demographics of Charleston, I was interested to learn that the population was about the same size as Akron, as was the "metropolitan statistical area" population. So I kind of assumed that traffic in Charleston would be like traffic in Akron, which can be difficult, especially trying to take 76 in or out during rush hours, but not bad over all. Dang was I wrong! Everywhere you go there is traffic!! I've had the distinct misfortune of not working at my "home base" four miles from my house, but rather, training at locations 15-20 miles from home. There has not been a day where I haven't had to drive in bumper-to-bumper traffic. The one day, I was sitting in traffic on one road, watching people turn around in the middle of the road and head in the other direction because the road was so backed up from an accident a few miles ahead. About the time I thought about turning around and going the only other route I could think of, I turned on my radio and heard on the traffic report that there was an even bigger accident on that other road. I wasn't the only one late to the training session that day!
Find a girl named Katie Everhard and ask her how patient I am in traffic. After she's done laughing in your face (give her about ten minutes), she'll tell you that I think I deserve my own lane of traffic, far away from the traffic jams. So this has been one way of learning patience. It drives me crazy, so very crazy, but at the very least I am learning to tolerate the traffic. Last week, during my hour and fifteen minute drive home, I people watched. Five homeless guys crossed in front of, or near my car at one intersection. They just chatted with themselves, ambling about. I got to drive by the local university and watch their track team practice. Let's just say I would not put money on their shot put athletes winning any competitions anytime soon. I am learning to just sit and take my time, knowing that to hurry will probably only lead to an accident or a tension headache.
The Food: I spent a considerable amount of time planning for this move. Even before I had applied to this job I had been making lists of things I wanted/needed to buy to furnish my apartment. This led to certain "friends" asking me how my "imaginary apartment" was shaping up! I had lists for every room in the house, down to coasters and egg separators. One thing I didn't even think about was a microwave. There were a lot of things that I overlooked, and I guess I just assumed that there is a microwave in every kitchen!!! But upon arrival, no microwave. However, my Grandma did give me a toaster oven, and that has been my best friend in meal prep!! There is a certain amount of patience required with this device though.
Books have been written on how to prepare gourmet meals in microwaves, with proper temperatures and times for cooking. In theory, every meal can be terrific. My method is this: Everything cooks when you hit "one minute" and "high." Everything. So when presented with the toaster oven, I soon learned that you can't hit those two magic buttons, I actually have to put thought into the baking time and temperature and then wait! Same goes for heating items on the stove. Electric ovens are slower to warm, so I have to wait for soup and hot water too. I think Cooper thinks I'm crazy as I talk to the oven and the range, "Hurry up!" "Could you heat up some time tonight please? I'm getting a little hungry." I also have to stay near the oven when I'm using it, because I haven't totally mastered the art of the toaster oven, so I have to watch that I'm not going to burn anything. I would be devastated if I burned my cheesy potatoes! This requires quite some patience, as watching a toaster oven is about as productive as watching water boil. So now I just get all my food together, stick it on the magic tray and just stand there, patiently waiting, taking the opportunity to chill out for likely the first time that day.
The Dog: I love my dog. He's a pretty good boy, and when he does do bad things, he makes up for it in loyalty and general cuteness. But that dog tries my patience like nothing else. In the morning, I take him out, feed him, and then give him a half an hour before I take him out one last time. Yeah. The dog has now discovered that after his a.m. feeding and walk, I leave. So what used to be a ten minute walk to relieve himself has now turned into a thirty minute walk around the entire apartment community in an attempt to find the "best" place to do his business. Any attempts to hurry the process result backfire. As I tell him to "hurry up" I find that he will find other things to pay attention to. He could care less about the squirrels here, but as soon as I tell him to "hurry up," squirrels become the most interesting thing ever! Telling him to "hurry up" makes him more skittish too. One morning he got scared by a falling pinecone. The next, my neighbor on crutches. There was the day the garbage truck backfired. That was fun. Of course, we can't forget the imaginary noises that probably originate in his pea-sized brain. But, as alway, patience is required. While I would really like him to figure out that the patch of grass by my apartment is just like the one on the other side of the community, now I just walk along, listening to the mockingbirds sing, enjoying the sunshine and blue skies, and looking at the pinecones up about 50 feet in the air, wondering when one is going to drop and hit me. (This is not an irrational fear! I hear them drop all the time, and they are not small!)
So perhaps when I come back to Ohio in four weeks, you will notice that I have changed. I will no longer be asking drivers of other cars rhetorical questions like, "Did you just learn to drive yesterday?" I will take the time to heat my food properly in the microwave, not blowing up potatoes or turkey, but warming it to a delectable temperature. Stop laughing, I only said it might happen! So long,and until next time: sleep tight and don't let the little lizards bite!
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
South Carolina and Ohio are not the same...
I believe this qualifies as a "duh" statement. Anyone can tell you that the two states are almost opposites of each other.
Ohio: Has lots of good qualities like nice people, some natural beauty, etc, etc. It also has four months of sky colored as what artists describe as "slate." They have the occasional blizzard, generally a three week period in January when the high temperature never reaches freezing, and the largest body of water is fed by a river that once caught on fire and is occasionally labeled by the health department as too bacteria-laden to safely swim in.
South Carolina: Beaches, palm trees, lots of beautiful historic districts, palm trees, Spanish moss, palm trees, generally warm temperatures, palm trees, sun, and palm trees (or palmettos, rather).
There are many other differences too, but they are subtle. So allow me a small amount of your time to enlighten you on these differences.
Road signs: I don't really believe they exist down here. I mean, I really don't believe they exist. If they are present at an intersection, they are either 1.) The smallest possible road sign the road crews could fit the name on and it is perched on a pole at the most secluded corner of that particular four-lane-in-each-direction-interchange or 2.) It has been hit by a car or moved by a hoodlum and the sign is thus turned in the wrong direction., essentially directing you to take the wrong road. I once took a three hour tour with my best friend through Amish country in Ohio, and the DIRT roads were at least marked with an actual name plate designating that it was County Road, or Township Road 12345, but here in Summerville, nothing. What is even better is when you have one road but it ceases to be name A at a certain point and becomes name B, and then after three miles returns to name A. It makes it really easy to get lost.
Road names: They may not have signs, but they do have names! In Ohio, we're pretty good with naming roads after the places they lead to: Avon Lake Rd, Medina Rd, Akron Rd, Wadsworth Rd, Wooster Pike, Cleveland-Massilon, etc, etc. Here in South Carolina every road, every interchange, and every bridge seems to be named after a person. And I'm not talking Rohrer Rd or Yoder Rd, I am talking full names like Glenn McConnell Road, Sam Rittenberg Blvd., Berlin G. Meyers Pkwy, Paul Cantrell Rd, Ben Sawyer Blvd, Chuck Dawley Business Road, Miles Jamison Rd, and the Don Holt bridge.
Boiled P-nuts. Yes, I spelled that correctly. I don't know what they are, but I know that they are everywhere down here and I have never heard of such a thing in Ohio. At any rate, I think if we made them in Ohio they would be called Boiled Peanuts.
Lastly: Parking. Specifically, parking at churches. At both Northside facilities and I'm sure at many other facilities, there was talk about "What if we don't have enough parking?" I think we would be lost without parking spaces, people would drive around in circles until someone in a full-sized pick up didn't pull up far enough and then blocked traffic flow completely. And judging by the population of full size pickups in Ohio, there would be many blocked areas of parking lot. Here it seems like every church, whether large or small, Baptist or Catholic, rich or poor, or whatever has a half-grass, half-gravel area where people are just free to park wherever they choose. Having experienced this a few times, I know the system works, even with the above average size of the SUV population down here. (That I don't get. Seriously, it snows once every twenty years. You have the best weather and some of the lowest electric rates in the country. Support your electric and solar powered vehicles!) People pull in where they please but they make sure that they aren't blocking anything or anyone. I know this wouldn't fly in Ohio, what with all the mud, snow, ice, etc, but it gives the area a more "rustic, intimate" setting. It's quite nice, actually!
Well anyways, that is some of what has struck me as odd and amusing during these last three-ish weeks here in the South. As you can see, a lot of it has to do with traffic, since I spend about half of my life sitting in traffic, but that's another story for another day. Sleep tight, don't let the Palmetto bugs bite!! (They are real, and they are gross)
Ohio: Has lots of good qualities like nice people, some natural beauty, etc, etc. It also has four months of sky colored as what artists describe as "slate." They have the occasional blizzard, generally a three week period in January when the high temperature never reaches freezing, and the largest body of water is fed by a river that once caught on fire and is occasionally labeled by the health department as too bacteria-laden to safely swim in.
South Carolina: Beaches, palm trees, lots of beautiful historic districts, palm trees, Spanish moss, palm trees, generally warm temperatures, palm trees, sun, and palm trees (or palmettos, rather).
There are many other differences too, but they are subtle. So allow me a small amount of your time to enlighten you on these differences.
Road signs: I don't really believe they exist down here. I mean, I really don't believe they exist. If they are present at an intersection, they are either 1.) The smallest possible road sign the road crews could fit the name on and it is perched on a pole at the most secluded corner of that particular four-lane-in-each-direction-interchange or 2.) It has been hit by a car or moved by a hoodlum and the sign is thus turned in the wrong direction., essentially directing you to take the wrong road. I once took a three hour tour with my best friend through Amish country in Ohio, and the DIRT roads were at least marked with an actual name plate designating that it was County Road, or Township Road 12345, but here in Summerville, nothing. What is even better is when you have one road but it ceases to be name A at a certain point and becomes name B, and then after three miles returns to name A. It makes it really easy to get lost.
Road names: They may not have signs, but they do have names! In Ohio, we're pretty good with naming roads after the places they lead to: Avon Lake Rd, Medina Rd, Akron Rd, Wadsworth Rd, Wooster Pike, Cleveland-Massilon, etc, etc. Here in South Carolina every road, every interchange, and every bridge seems to be named after a person. And I'm not talking Rohrer Rd or Yoder Rd, I am talking full names like Glenn McConnell Road, Sam Rittenberg Blvd., Berlin G. Meyers Pkwy, Paul Cantrell Rd, Ben Sawyer Blvd, Chuck Dawley Business Road, Miles Jamison Rd, and the Don Holt bridge.
Boiled P-nuts. Yes, I spelled that correctly. I don't know what they are, but I know that they are everywhere down here and I have never heard of such a thing in Ohio. At any rate, I think if we made them in Ohio they would be called Boiled Peanuts.
Lastly: Parking. Specifically, parking at churches. At both Northside facilities and I'm sure at many other facilities, there was talk about "What if we don't have enough parking?" I think we would be lost without parking spaces, people would drive around in circles until someone in a full-sized pick up didn't pull up far enough and then blocked traffic flow completely. And judging by the population of full size pickups in Ohio, there would be many blocked areas of parking lot. Here it seems like every church, whether large or small, Baptist or Catholic, rich or poor, or whatever has a half-grass, half-gravel area where people are just free to park wherever they choose. Having experienced this a few times, I know the system works, even with the above average size of the SUV population down here. (That I don't get. Seriously, it snows once every twenty years. You have the best weather and some of the lowest electric rates in the country. Support your electric and solar powered vehicles!) People pull in where they please but they make sure that they aren't blocking anything or anyone. I know this wouldn't fly in Ohio, what with all the mud, snow, ice, etc, but it gives the area a more "rustic, intimate" setting. It's quite nice, actually!
Well anyways, that is some of what has struck me as odd and amusing during these last three-ish weeks here in the South. As you can see, a lot of it has to do with traffic, since I spend about half of my life sitting in traffic, but that's another story for another day. Sleep tight, don't let the Palmetto bugs bite!! (They are real, and they are gross)
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